“I tried breaking up with her; she showed up on my lawn in the rain, mascara running down her cheeks, crying and screaming for me to take her back before collapsing. I ended up taking her back because that shit was embarrassing, and I just wanted her to stop; plus, I figured it was only a couple of weeks before I would be leaving for Illinois, so I could suck it up. I just refused to have sex with her or give her affection; we were best friends again, and she could say we were dating if it made her feel better. She got so bad that I stayed out all night and got drunk so my parents would ground me for the rest of the summer. Every chore I had to do for those two weeks was pure bliss.”
“Oh, my god.” Quinn was appalled. “I'm so sorry you had to go through that! What happened to her?”
“She went to Texas, found a new boyfriend, got married, and had at least seven kids. Ginny has her on social media, and every now and then, she'll mention Amanda has popped another one out. Apparently, her husband looks exhausted.”
Quinn giggled. “At least she didn't switch universities to stay with you.”
“She tried, but she wasn't accepted.” He rolled her eyes. “I was going to a school dedicated to the arts. She could barely draw a straight line with a ruler.”
“Wow.” Quinn shook her head. “Although, I do get the obsession.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him.
“Uh-huh.” Tenn grinned, his cheeks turning pink. “Sure... your turn.”
“Hmm. There are so many to pick from...” Quinn trailed off as she decided which one to tell him. “Have you ever heard of a mud fetish?”
“You mean like mud wrestling?” Tenn furrowed his brow, looking confused. “I wasn’t aware that it was a fetish.”
“No, I mean like rolling around and having sex in the mud like pigs,” Quinn explained, chuckling at his expression. “This guy asked me if I'd be into that on the first date. I told him no; it sounded like an infection waiting to happen. He sends girls pictures of himself covered in mud that he “collects from farmer's fields” and stores in his bathtub.”
“No! Come on! That's not a thing!” Tenn’s eyes widened, and he looked a little ill.
“Oh, it is. I have the screenshots. He gets posted to social media groups occasionally; one of the students was laughing and showing me one day. It's been over ten years, and he's still into it.” Quinn nodded. “What’s with the look?”
“Mud from farmer's fields!” Tenn shuddered. “He's aware that it isn't just dirt, right?”
“I have no idea.” Quinn laughed as she realized he wasn’t disgusted by the fetish but by where he was getting his mud. “I just want to be clear; he's not getting posted to these groups to be made fun of for the mud thing; he's a prolific dick pic sender. The university girls have pages where they post guys who should be steered clear of. Most of them are middle-aged guys trying to get a college girlfriend, guys who send dick pics, or guys who harass them for sex. I'm not trying to kink shame. I have a few of them myself; it's when those kinks are pushed on you that it becomes a problem. He was very open about it and kept insisting I should give it a try; even after I ended the date, he texted me for three days before I finally blocked him.”
“Oh, yeah, no, kinks are fine, but they shouldn’t be pushed on you,” Tenn nodded in agreement, then grinned. “You have kinks?”
“I have a lot of childhood trauma; of course I have kinks.” She looked over at him with a smile. “And before you ask, no, they are not food-related, although whipped cream can be fun.”
“I bet I can guess.” He folded his arms and looked her over with a smirk.
“If you know about my childhood, I'm sure you could.” Quinn rolled her eyes playfully and came to a stop in a lineup.
“I'm not going to guess right now, but I'm pretty sure I could.” He looked around in surprise. “What are we doing at a ferry?”
“We're going to get on the ferry.” Quinn laughed. “We're going to Martha's Vineyard.”
“Really?” He put the seat up and stretched. “A day at the beach sounds like fun.”
“Yep, the next ferry leaves in twenty minutes.” She pulled ahead, pulled a pass out of the center console and handed it to the attendant.
“You have a pass?” He looked at her in surprise. “They’re only available to residents.”
“I know someone.” She chuckled, took the pass back and drove to her place in line for the ferry.
“Okay.” He shrugged, seeming to decide to go with things and not ask too many questions. “Can I know the plan for Martha's Vineyard yet?”
“I told you. We'll relax, enjoy the sun, eat good food, and go to war.” She giggled. “When you plan a date, you can be cryptic too.”
“Is this a date?” He grinned and leaned closer to her. “Cause that means I get a kiss at the end.”
“Kissing on the first date?” she teased, leaning in, half hoping the kiss would happen now.
Tenn reached up and brushed her hair back from her face. “I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment I walked into the room, and you asked me if I was looking for anything in particular. I know we said to wait, but I'm struggling with that.” He admitted as he settled back in his seat. The way he was looking at her gave her butterflies like she had never experienced before.
“Oh, thank god.” Quinn slumped in relief. “Me too. It makes it easier to know it's not just me.”