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To top it off, her two besties had been bursting at the seams all through dinner when she and Brock made a damn appearance together after reaching said rock bottom. Sally and her staff did the best they could to make up for the ruined ride, which was obviously cut short by the rain. The food was excellent and one of the staff members, a woman who was about twenty-five, brought out her guitar and played songs she’d written herself. She was amazing and had the voice of an angel.
It would have been a great time if it hadn’t been for the fact that Mandy and Jaz kept sending her looks. Looks that said they wanted all the juicy details in all their grizzly gore. They squirmed all the way home in the truck and as soon as they burst into the hotel room, June knew their hour and a half to get ready for the show was going to be spent trying to withstand their onslaught of trying to pry details from her that she didn’t want to share.
“Oh my god, you have to tell us where you went. You disappeared for like, an hour!” Jaz started in as soon as the door shut behind them.
June sighed. She walked into the room, flung her jacket and sweater off onto the bed and began to rummage in her suitcase for something that was minimally wrinkled. She wanted classy, not slutty. She’d packed for Vegas though, and not many of her dresses went longer than thigh length.
“Do you have anything I can borrow for the show? None of these dresses are right and I can’t exactly wear jeans.”
“No!” Jaz nearly screamed. “You have to answer my question!”
Mandy was much smoother. “You can borrow one of my dresses,” she said coyly. “If you tell us what happened with you and Mr. Hottie Pants.”
“Oh. My. God. You did not just call him that.” June groaned. This was going to be so much worse than she thought.
“Oh, I did, and I’ll do it again,” Mandy said far too proudly.
“He is a Hottie Pants,” Jaz insisted. Like god, did you see his ass in those jeans? It was even better when they were wet. Good enough to lick.”
“Oh, for god sakes.”
“His ass probably has its own hashtag,” Mandy said dreamily.
“You went to have a shower at Sally’s house. She told us that. But did you have one together?” Jaz pressed for details like it was a matter of life or death that she get them. She had that far-away look in her eyes, the sparkle a single woman gets when their ovaries have just spontaneously combusted. Or their panties caught on fire. Mandy and Jaz both had that panty burning look on their face. The smoke coming out of their pants practically filled up the room.
“If you had a shower with him, you might as well just stay married,” Mandy said in a tone that was completely matter of fact. “You’ll be ruined for anyone else after that experience.”
“Did he have butt dimples?” Jaz chimed in. “Please tell me he had butt dimples. With an ass like that, he had to.”
June barely managed to repress a groan. The truth was, she knew Mandy was right. She did feel ruined for anyone else. Brock’s ass did indeed deserve its own hashtag. His body was in another zip code altogether. Her only regret was that she’d been so shy and shocked at the beginning of the shower, she really hadn’t taken the time to take him all in. By the time they got warmed up, her brain wasn’t exactly functioning correctly. She was so preoccupied with covering herself up after, trying to muster up the will to regret what she’d just done, she hadn’t taken a visual either.
All in all, she hadn’t taken the time to properly worship Brock, to take mental snap shots that she could go over later, when she was alone and burning up. Unfortunately, that was the only part she could bring herself to have regrets about.
“So… are you going to tell us?” Jaz stood, hands clasped in front of her, eagerly waiting. Mandy leaned in, hanging on every single word.
“Geez, you guys are a broken record.” There wasn’t as much heat behind her words as June would have liked.
“We can’t help it. We want details. We have to live through you. We’re never going to be able to find a man like that for ourselves.”
“Yeah, the best date I had last year was like a four out of ten and that guy is off the charts. As in, like, a hundred.”
“A million.”
“A billion.”
“Infinity.”
“Oh my god.” June threw her hands up in the air. “I can’t take this.” She pulled a straightener out of her suitcase and stalked to the bathroom. She plugged it in and turned it on, ready to tackle the disaster of her hair. “We don’t have that much time to get ready. You guys better get dressed.”
