Page 42 of The Plus Ones
“I don’t believe she snores. Really?”
I tap the voice memo on my phone. If she’s going to leave me alone in the room while she has breakfast with our friends, then I am going to share the astonishing sound of her airway tissues vibrating with them.
“Holy shit.” Chase covers his mouth and laughs. “That sounds fake.”
“If it was, then I’d better have a talk with her to clarify exactly what it is she’s supposed to be faking while we’re here.”
“So…you’re totally turned-off now, then?”
I sigh. “No.”
“Because I gotta warn you. We’re all hanging out at the pool.”
“And?”
“And she’s wearing a bikini and you need to keep it together.”
I look down at my half-eaten breakfast and place my fork on the plate. “I think I’m done.”
“I’m serious. You need to mentally prepare yourself. I mean, Matt and I have our gorgeous wives to look at, but you should probably stare directly at the sun or something.”
I laugh. “Okay.” I pat him on the back. “If you’re trying to talk it up so I’ll be disappointed, I think you’ve done an admirable job.”
Chase shakes his head and puts his sunglasses on. “I do not envy you. You are in for a world of pain, my friend. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
When we arrive poolside, Aimee and Bernie are dangling their feet into the water and Matt and all twenty of his abs are lying out on a chaise lounge. Fucking asshole. Where’s the dad bod? He squints up at me. “Hey, man. Nice of you to join us.”
“Yo, Keats!” Bernie lifts her chin at me. “We were just about to come get you.”
“Roxy said you had a hard time getting to sleep last night,” Aimee says.
“Did she? I don’t suppose she mentionedwhythat was...” I am momentarily distracted by the stunning view of the bougainvillea and the beach and the sea and the sailboats and the sky, but all of a sudden, I wish I had taken Chase’s advice about staring directly into the sun.
A slim figure cuts through the center of the crystal-clear water in the infinity pool, and then everything that isn’t that slim figure just fades away.
There’s that Phoebe Cates pool scene inFast Times at Ridgemont Highthat I jerked off to a thousand times between the ages of twelve and twelve and a half, and then there’s this Roxy Carter pool scene that I will be jerking it to for the rest of my godforsaken life.
She ascends the steps at the side of the pool, glistening wet and carefully adjusting the top and bottom of her black bikini to ensure that nothing that isn’t supposed to be exposed to the good people of Antigua and its tourists are showing, but it hardly matters because whatisexposed is the most gorgeous toned but curvy body I have ever seen in the flesh. And I’ve dated women who look good for a living. But there’s just something about Roxy Carter that screams sex to me.
I mean, Roxy Carter herself may be screaming “I’m not having sex with you” to me over and over again, but methinks the lady doth protest too much, and also I can’t hear what anyone’s saying because all I hear is “Moving in Stereo” by The Cars and every cell in my body is mutteringfuuuuuuuckand covering its lap with a textbook.
And that’s just when I’m getting the view of her backside. When she turns and starts walking in my direction, I realize that my sunglasses have actually started to fog up a little. So I remove them, and I do not bother to hide that I am staring at her magnificent perky tits in that triangle bikini top, because it’s her fault that my brain is barely functioning this morning and my reaction time is a little slow and because I do not want to stop staring.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” she says as she walks right past me to pick up the towel that’s lying on the chaise lounge right next to me.
I would kill myself right now if I was guaranteed to be immediately reincarnated as that towel. “Uh-huh.”
“You get breakfast?”
“I did. Thank you for your concern.”
“You should go for a swim—in half an hour, of course. The water’s amazing.”
“Of course. I intend to.”
“You just gonna stand there like a narc?” she asks while obnoxiously toweling off every inch of her amazing body.
“Actually…” I say as I pull my phone out from my pocket, “I’m going to stand here and listen to this.” I tap the voice memo and point the speaker in her direction. Because this phone and that recording are the only things keeping me from dropping to my knees and begging her to marry me right now.
