Page 15 of Lilies in Autumn

Ava stands to her full height, which can’t be more than five feet, and starts to brush the dirt from her body. Her hands roam over her knees, her softly curved stomach, and her large chest. Her body, framed in the dim light from the back porch, is a road map of curves and dips and valleys; her thick thighs are strong yet feminine, a testament to the perfect female form. She looks like a woman, not a girl, and her body reminds me of a goddess, Venus or Aphrodite, and whoever the fuck else stands for sex and lust and desire.

What’s more surprising is that I enjoy talking with her. I can’t remember the last time I was content to just sit and talk with a woman without the overwhelming need to stuff my cock in their mouth just to shut them up. But Ava, she’s special. She’s funny, clumsy as fuck, but quirky and different. Watching her, listening to her, has knocked me on my ass, and I don’t think I want to get up. I’m not sure what to make of that, but I know that I need more.

Ava interrupts my thoughts with a loud clearing of her throat. “Well, as fun as this was, I’m going to get going. It was great meeting you. Have a good night.” Before I can voice my protest, she spins and practically runs for the porch’s sliding door, quickly disappearing inside the house.

Not for the first time since I met her, I can’t help but wonder,What the fuck just happened?

Ava

God, if you can hear me, please strike me dead and deliver this mortification from my body. There is no way, absolutely no way, that I can survive this level of embarrassment and continue functioning at this prostitution ring impersonating a frat party.

There. Is. No. Way.

Not only did I fall on my goddamn face in front of a human Hercules, but I then ran away from him as though he was the serial killer I accused him of being. I can’t imagine what’s going through his beautiful head right now.

I pause as soon as I enter the house, reliving my fall and remembering how my body pancaked the cool grass. Oh, sweet baby Jesus in the manger, please tell me that he didn’t see the control top underwear I have under this dress. That’s just what I need, not only to die of embarrassment from busting my ass while sitting on the most attractive man—because he is no boy—but to also be labeled as the fat girl that needs a girdle just to wear a dress.

God, if you’re still there, please open the earth and swallow me whole.

I shake my head and continue the trek through the house, looking for CeCe and working on my excuse for the grass stain I currently have on my left knee. I had no idea that one could get a grass stain on their actual skin, but here we are. I wonder if she’ll believe that I was attacked by garden gnomes on my way to go smoke. I don’t smoke, but it seems safer than telling her the truth. For some reason, telling her that I was scrambling off the blonde Viking’s lap before I dry-humped him doesn’t sound great. We’ll see which excuse I’ll use in the heat of the moment.

I walk through the kitchen, living room, and dining room but still can’t find my ginger friend. I start to turn to retrace my path when I hear her voice yell over the music pouring out of the speakers. “So help me, I will knee you in your dick and make sure that you will never be able to procreate.”

Oh, good, an altercation is sure to draw more attention to us.

I follow CeCe’s voice and stop short at the scene in front of me. CeCe sits on the couch with Dante, gaming controllers in both of their hands, while they play what looks like an intense game of Mario Kart. I laugh because the poor guy doesn’t stand a chance—in fifth grade, we spent every day of summer break playing Nintendo, Xbox, and PlayStation. According to all tween movies, boys loved girls that played video games, so we made sure that we dominated every game we could get our hands on before we entered middle school.

We were both still virgins, so those movies lied.

CeCe’s talent was getting inside her opponents’ heads. I’ve watched as she made adults cry with her taunts and insults; telling a grown man that his mother never loved him and that he should just give up, while playing Mortal Kombat at the boardwalk arcade, was a scene I’ll never forget.

“Jesus, Red, I didn’t realize you were so ruthless. It’s fucking hot.” Dante stares at CeCe, practically drooling at the mouth, sending his character over the track’s bounds.

“Eat a bag of dicks, pretty boy. Get your head in the game. You’re making it too easy to beat your ass.” CeCe doesn’t look away from the TV as she trash-talks him. He shifts on the couch, not so subtly adjusting himself. I should probably intervene before he has an orgasm from her degradation.

“Wow, C, I leave you alone for an hour and you’ve become a video game dominatrix. That escalated quickly.”

Dante moans, “Fuck. Red, are you a domme? Will you be my mistress?”

That finally has her looking his way. “Ew. No.” She glances over to me and then looks back at her character’s position before whipping her head back to me. I groan; she noticed the fucking knee.

“Ava, what the fuck is on your face? Is that dirt?”

Oh, so it’s more than just my knee? I touch my face and examine my dirt-covered hand. Great.

“A house plant attacked me.”

Dante stifles a laugh while CeCe raises one perfectly waxed red eyebrow. “I haven’t seen any houseplants here.”

“Oh, they were hidden in a corner where no one goes, very secluded. Great for oxygen circulation, you know.” I should probably stop talking about houseplants now. “Anyway, are you ready to head out? I think I have a piece of twig, from the house plant, stuck in my hair. I’ll let one of the sisters know we’re leaving. Okay, great, see you at the front door in five minutes. Bye!” I race out before she has the opportunity to deny me.

I make it to the front door without any more mishaps, grateful for small miracles. The sister manning the front door must realize that I am in fucking shambles because she looks at me with a pitying smile and tells me that a sober driver will be pulling up in a few minutes to take me back to the dorms. I count down the seconds until I’m back in my room, reliving the greatest and worst moments of my night, both witnessed by the blonde Viking, Greyson. God, even his name is hot.

“Come on, CeCe,” I mutter under my breath. Willing her to materialize so that I can get the hell out of this house as soon as possible.

“Chill out, I’m right here.” I turn around and thank God my incantation worked.

“Good, you’re here. A driver will be here in a few.” We wait in silence, CeCe studying me while I look everywhere but at her. I do not doubt that she’ll interrogate me the moment she has the chance, but I can’t do that here, where anyone can overhear my embarrassment. I’d rather it stay between me, Thor, and the hard ground where I made my landing, but I know I owe CeCe an explanation for the dirt covering most of my body. Where the hell is this driver?

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