Page 37 of Was I Ever Free

We manage to snag two rooms facing the pool on the first floor. We’re lucky, the receptionist tells us, as it’s their last two adjoining rooms. A quick glance at Lucy and I can tell she’d much prefer if the winds of fortune would have blown in quite a different direction. Who am I kidding, a feral part of me was hoping the fucking same. At the very least, it would limit the excuses I’m starting to repeat to myself.

An hour later, I’m busy catching up on work that’s been left on the wayside ever since this little road trip started almost two weeks ago. I’m on the phone with Byzantine when Lucy pops her head in the door, wearing nothing but her black one-piece bathing suit and shorts that match.

I hang up on Byzantine, not bothering to say goodbye.

She’s holding tightly to her folded towel with both arms over her chest. I could tell yesterday that she was nervous about showing so much skin, and today is no different. Funny how she didn’t act that way when she was standing naked in front of me. Quite the opposite actually. And that makes me want to take full advantage of that little piece of valuable information. Like telling her to strip for me everyday until this road trip’s inevitable end.

“Are you busy?” she asks, a little shyly.

Yes. “No.”

Her smile is immediate and infectious. “I was thinking we could sit by the pool while the sun is still out,” she says, pointing her thumb over her shoulder.

“I’ll meet you out there,” I answer.

She nods eagerly, eyes twinkling like fucking galaxies. Turning on her heels, her braids swing over her shoulders, and I’m left staring at where she was just standing wondering how the hell I got here.

19

We have been at Casa Kismet for two days now. It feels nice to just do nothing for a little while. It’s mid-morning, and I’m sitting on my now favorite plastic deck chair near the corner of the pool. The sun is already hot, sweat prickling on my forehead, so I reach over for my sunglasses and baseball cap on the table beside me.

That’s when I spot her. Blonde hair loose down her back, the rays bouncing off the strands like wild bursts of light, a face and body full of freckles, and the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Today, she is wearing a white macrame top, frayed jean shorts that ride far up her hips, and bedazzled black wedge sandals. The way she walks around the property reminds me of Lenix; pure confidence and, according to what I have gathered from others, undeniable sex appeal.

Not that I would really know what that looks like… all I know is that it’s instinctual and that I couldn’t possibly have any. Not if I stay stuck in my suffocating shell of insecurity and inexperience, that’s for sure.

For the past two days, I have locked myself in the bathroom at night pretending to shower but instead, I have been watching porno on my phone. I figured it would be a quick way to get familiar with all the things I know nothing about. Instead, I have more questions than when I started my covert investigation. Not to say that it didn’t leave me heated and a little flustered. I tried masturbating like how Bastian showed me, but nothing compares to that time… to him watching… to him instructing me.

I lurch myself out of my wandering thoughts when I realize she is heading my way. I sit a little straighter chewing at the inside of my cheek while I watch her strut closer and closer, my notebook clutched tight on my lap.

“Hi, I’m Bridget!” she says, a bright white smile beaming like the sun itself while she stands in front of my chair, leaning closer to give me her hand to shake, bangles clinking together on her wrist with the movement.

I almost forget to speak, but then quickly clear my throat, reaching over to take her hand in mine. “Lucy,” I say with, what I hope is, an equally bright white smile.

“Awesome, now we’re friends,” she says with a giggle as she plops herself in the chair beside me. “Where are you from Lucy?”

I slightly shift my body to face her, still clinging to my notebook for something to hold while I answer her. “California… You?”

She turns to me, sliding her large pink sunglasses down her nose. Her eyes have a mischievous glint to them, her fresh red-painted lips curling into a grin as she chews on gum.

“That’s a secret,” she answers with a wink. Leaning back into her chair, she stretches her arms over her head, crossing one freckled and tanned leg over the other. Her top rides up with the movement, revealing a pierced belly button. “I actually own this place.” My eyebrows arch in surprise but I say nothing, letting her continue, “Well, my boyfriend Ritchie owns it, but I helped him decorate, it was my idea to paint the pool pink,” she says with another effervescent giggle. I nod, not quite knowing what to say but not wanting the conversation to end. Luckily, she does not seem deterred and continues to speak. “So you’re just passing through? I’ve seen you around with that silent blond guy, is he your boyfriend?”

This time I do answer. “Oh, uh, no,” I say, laughing nervously. “He is just a, um… a friend I guess? We are on a cross-country road trip together.”

“You guess?” she says with another giggle. “Oh, I justknowthere’s a story behind that.”

My stomach sinks thinking she is going to ask me more questions about Bastian, but instead, she moves right along and points to the notebook I am still holding.

“You write?”

I look down as a reflex and then back up at her. “No, it is more like a…” I trail off suddenly feeling embarrassed, but something about Bridget tells me she will not make me feel silly if I do tell her, even if I myself feel silly divulging it. “Bucket list,” I reveal with a small sheepish smile. A term I learned while doing hours of research for exactly that—I just did not know that’s what people called it.

“Oh my god, how fun!” she exclaims while twisting in her seat, placing her feet back on the ground, and facing me. “Can I see?”

I try to hide my mortification at the thought, my knuckles unconsciously whitening around the notebook, but Bridget immediately picks up on my reaction and laughs. “Oops,” she says while bringing her hand over her mouth, eyes crinkling, freckled shoulders shaking. “That’s invasive, sorry. You don’t have to show me.”

“No, um, it is—it’s not that…” I answer, looking down at the notebook again as if studying it. How can I tell her that after my little porno investigation, this bucket list now includes a fewsexualitems too? “I can tell you a few?” I finally say, hoping it is a reasonable alternative than to hand it over.

“Sure,” she says, flipping her long hair from one shoulder to the other, her facial expression open and inviting.

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