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Kate’s shoulders begin to move up and down, her laughter echoing against the sound of the waves crashing. Her continuous laugh begins to anger me. What kind of a sick joke is this?
“I got my period,” she stumbles out in between her laughter. “The blood is from my vagina, not a crab. Your dick’s fine.”
It takes a moment for it to click. Her period? Oh my God. This is embarrassing.
“Holy shit.” I fall back onto the sand, covering my face with my hands until I burst out laughing along with her. She drops beside me, the both of us naked in a fit of hysterics, unable to catch a breath of air.
“I thought it was a crab.” I laugh through my words.
“I thought I was pregnant,” she admits, chuckling as if i
t’s a joke.
I stop laughing, catching my breath as her words sink in. “You thought you were pregnant? Baby, I’m good, but not that good.”
She punches my chest softly and picks up the empty bottle of tequila, throwing it behind us, only to remove another bottle of something from her bag.
“If you thought you were pregnant, why did you drink tequila?” I question her more seriously. I’m not one to judge, but alcohol and pregnancy don’t exactly mix.
“Because I didn’t want to be. Because I’m an idiot. Because of many things I just don’t want to feel right now,” she says in one breath.
I place my arm around her shoulder and bring her closer to me. “We are so fucked up. Look at us. We’re naked and—” A tingling sensation runs up my thigh. “Was that you? There has to be crabs somewhere. Oh fuck, and scorpions.”
Kate ignores my panic attack, staring back at the moon with doleful eyes, her lips trembling slightly.
“Who do you think is more fucked up?” she wonders out loud. “Me or you?”
“Me... no, wait. Maybe you.”
We continue to lie there, quietly drinking the bottle of vodka that Kate pulled out of her bag, pretending the world around us doesn’t exist. At some point during a rendition of Lean On Me, I stop singing for a moment with a clearer head, despite the alcohol running through my veins.
“Then let’s call this a successful night. You’re not pregnant and my dick is still intact.”
“Intact, yes.” She laughs, following with an obnoxious snort. “Just... afraid to come to the party.”
It’s impossible to hide my embarrassment. I’m not one to be red-faced, but I can feel my cheeks burning despite the cold air. All I can do at a time like this is laugh at myself. “Do you know how fucking freezing that water is?”
“So, that was just all to impress me? Mr. Tough Guy, who can handle the shriveling cold water?” She chuckles loudly.
“Shriveling is an understatement. I take it back... this night is awful. It couldn’t get any worse.”
And right when I say the words a torches flash over our eyes.
“You’re under arrest for indecent exposure in a public area.”
Oh fuck.
Chapter Six
When I turned thirteen, my mom gave me the talk. The one that involved girls, how my body would go through changes, and how sometimes I might want to act on my physical feelings by having sex with a girl. Given Mom’s own teenage turmoil, she wasn’t leaving it up to some uninterested teacher to inform me about the birds and bees.
Mom didn’t hold back, teaching me everything from how easily a girl could get pregnant to how readily you could catch a disease. At the time, I was embarrassed and confused by the whole spiel. It only began to click around the age of sixteen when girls suddenly became interested in me.
Out of all the bad things I could do, Mom warned me that getting a girl pregnant shouldn’t be one of them.
When I turned twenty-one and officially became a man of legal age able to go to clubs and drink, Mom gave me another talk. The one about how easily I could fall into the wrong crowd, how life can sometimes be overwhelming, and how, when that happens, we occasionally try our best to forget our worries by doing something stupid. Something illegal.
“Noah, I raised you well. Promise me, and I mean double promise me, that I’ll never see your face in a mugshot.”
