Page 92 of Hot Mess Express
“Who said I’m not enjoyin’ it?” I pick out a crispy fried bit out of the basket, all the actual fries eaten. “Just doesn’t mean we’re, like, an item now or anything. Not likethem, at least.”
“Why not like them?”
“I dunno.” I crunch on the bits while picking out another.
Bridger scoots closer to me on the bench and puts his arm on the chair behind my back. “What do we need to do differently to be more like them? Want me to bend you over my knee and spank the shit outta you?”
I nearly choke. “The fuck got into you, Bridge? You never talk like this.”
“Your foot’s bouncing in place.”
I stop my foot. “Was doin’ it since before you took your turn.”
“You nervous about something?” He comes in even closer. “Is it because you’re wondering how it’ll feel? To have my hand slap that ass of yours with all my strength? I’ve got a lot of reasons to spank you, y’know. You’ve been a pretty bad boy since we met.”
“You’re demented,” I mumble as I slurp on my Coke.
“One spank for every reason. And add up everything you’ve done to me over this past week? You’d be lucky to have anyassleft when I’m through.”
“You seem pretty obsessed with spankin’ me. Maybe you’re the weirdo here.”
“I haven’t forgotten when you copped a feel in that Tackler Monster costume. Yep,” he says when I set down my Coke a bit too hard. “I think you’re enjoying all of this more than you’ll ever admit out loud. I make you nervous. For the first time in your life.”
“Maybe I make you nervous, too.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I turn to him. His face is surprisingly close. “For the first time inyourlife, you’re breaking all your rules for a guy you just met seven tiny days ago.”
Bridger’s face loses all its smugness.
It’s replaced with something real. Something softer, like all of his walls just crashed down, we’re no longer playing around, and he’s fully attentive to my every damned word.
“I think you like me,” I go on. Despite how confident I sound, my heart is pounding something fierce. “You’re talkin’ a big game, but it scares the shit outta you, what’s goin’ on with us. Crackin’ jokes about spankin’ me silly, but the joke’s on you. Youlikeme.” I get close enough to kiss him, the breath of my wordsbrushing his lips. “And you don’t got a lick of an idea what to do about it.”
Bridger’s eyes melt in front of me.
I guess that did the trick.
“Dude!” shouts Pete, spreading his arms at us. “You guys just missed Juniper’s first strike!”
We break from each other, looking up to find Juni doing a little victory dance, arms flailing in the air, with Pete glaring at us like we’ve done him the worst offense. When Juni crashes into him to claim a spontaneous victory kiss, all of Pete’s anger fades, and the two become lovebirds again, making out on their stage, while Bridger and I watch, blank-faced, lost in our own feelings.
None of the words I said at the bowling alley are on our minds a few hours later when we hit the club for the second night in a row. There’s no damned drama at all as the four of us let loose on the dance floor. The day has glued us together, and now it’s all of us who crack each other up, laughing like we can’t help ourselves, inventing new dance moves, and being ridiculous. It feels like the four of us have been best friends our whole lives.
Every time the song changes, Juni shouts that it’s her favorite one. Pete picks up on the pattern and starts doing the same, every single song, and it becomes their inside joke. I learn pretty quickly that Bridger is a terrible dancer, but instead of making fun of him, I keep tugging on his arms and getting him out of his own head. He resists me a few times, laughing it off or shaking his head, but I grab hold of him, bring him close, and point at my eyes—“Just look at me,” I order him, “and nothin’ else. Just me. You and I. Let it all go, Bridge. Don’t hold nothin’ back when you’re with me.”
Those words seem to resonate the deepest.
Don’t hold back with me.
The four of us make it safely back to the motel after midnight. For a little while, the adjoining door between our rooms is left open, and all four of us are enjoying drinks in one room, chatting about all the fun shit that went down at the club, including a guy who apparently hit on Pete at the bar—which gave Pete one of the biggest confidence boosts of his life apparently, as he had never “properly been hit on by a real gay dude at a real gay nightclub”, and now he’s happy to cross that off his list. Then we relocate to the other room and eat up everything Juni just got after emptying out half of the vending machine.
It’s nearly two in the morning when Pete notices a text that was sent to him hours ago. “Just Cody telling us not to rush back in the morning for church, to enjoy our night out.” He hiccups as he drops his phone on the bed, then draws a cross over his chest for some reason. “Thank God for having a priest for a husband.”
“Reverend,” corrects Juni, “and if we’re not gonna head back early in the morning, then maybe we can watch that movie I told you about earlier.”
Pete’s eyes grow big. “Uh, yeah,” he agrees in a funny voice. “That movie. You and I. Are gonna watch. Tonight.”
