Page 88 of The Naughty List

He laughs. “When have you ever let us down?”

“How about that time that we got hammered and you had to throw me over your shoulder and carry me into the house even though I was puking down your back?”

He laughs at the memory. “That wasn’t your proudest moment, but neither of us were let down then either.”

“I don’t know. I seem to remember a very long, boring conversation with my mother the next day as she forced me to eat the world’s greasiest bacon and eggs.”

He laughs again and it makes my stomach muscles tighten as need for him floods my entire body. “Actually, I’m pretty proud of you for that. You beat the town drunk at a shots contest. You’re my hero. Have I told you that lately?” he teases as his laughter fills my ears.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, not feeling like a hero to anyone. “I didn’t accomplish anything that night but getting wasted, dancing on a table, losing my bra somehow, and then puking down your back as you carried me to the house. You shouldn’t have picked me up over your shoulder like that. All that pressure on my stomach forced all the alcohol up.”

He chuckles. “You lost your bra because you weren’t just dancing on that table. You were stripping, or at least attempting to. And I had to pick you up like that. You refused to come in the house.”

I gasp. “You never told me that!”

“What? That you refused to come in the house?”

“No, that I was stripping!”

He laughs. “How else would you have lost your bra? You actually tried to recreate that scene in Flashdance,” he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a fit of laughter.

“I don’t know. I thought I was about to get lucky with some cute guy or something,” I say, but actually, in my messed-up, drunk-out-of-my-mind head, I thought that maybe Carson and I let things get out of hand. That he was the one who took my bra off and I thought that maybe he kept it as a little souvenir.

He laughs harder. “If you think I would’ve let you go off with some guy when you were that wasted, you have another thing coming.”

My face heats up with embarrassment when I think about how everyone was at that party my senior year and how they’ve all now seen me topless. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I tried. I did. It was just a little too late. I walked outside by the pool. There was music going and a big crowd gathered around the table. So I walked closer and that’s when I saw what everyone was looking at and cheering for. You! You were up there dancing and your shirt was coming off. Then as I was squeezing my way through the crowd to get to you, you saw me, smirked, and started to take your bra off under your shirt, shouting, ‘I’m Jennifer Beals!’ It’s like you were trying to make me lose my mind. You got it off and swung it around your head, then threw it into the crowd. I grabbed you and your bra that you flung on the table shortly after and pulled you out of there.”

I shake my head at myself with my eyes closed. Now that he mentions it, the memory resurfaces.

I’m on the table, dancing to the music as a crowd grows around me. I’m drunk out of my mind. My vision is blurring and everything seems to be blending together, but I feel like a superstar up on this table with everyone crowding around me. They’re all hooting and hollering and cheering me on.

“Take it off!” someone in the crowd yells and I think, why not?

My hands find the bottom of my shirt and start to pull it off then decide to take my bra off instead. The cheers grow louder as I let the material drop from between my fingers. It falls to my feet on top of the table. I sway my hips from side to side and wiggle my shoulders to make my breasts jiggle. Even more cheers.

Well, I wanted to get Carson’s attention. I guess this is one way to do it.

As I dance, I think about how this is something I would never do before. And I mean NEVER!! But ever since Carson left for college a few years ago, a space has been growing between us that was never there before. He’s moved on without me. Forgot me. He’s got some snobby girlfriend now and I’m jealous in every way possible. Luckily for me, he came home to visit his family and she was too busy to come. I have to make him see that I’m the girl he’s supposed to be with. Not her.

“Strip, honey!” someone yells.

Carson comes into view and I see his blue eyes flash angrily to the side at whoever told me to strip. But hey, maybe if I show some skin, he will get a little jealous and realize his true feelings. This is my chance to show him I’m not that nice girl he’s always known. I’m a woman now, with needs. I reach behind me and unclasp my bra. The straps fall from my shoulders and Carson’s eyes land on mine. I can read the message he’s sending me.

Don’t you fucking dare.

But I don’t listen and he knows that about me. The bra falls and I catch it in one hand by the strap. I spin it around with my hand and let go. It goes flying into the crowd. In the same instant, I feel like I’m falling. But then I look up and see that I haven’t fallen. I’m in his arms. My chest pressed to his as he carries me through the crowd and out the back of the privacy fence. He presses my back against the wood and our eyes lock. His are so heated it looks like fire burning within them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, low, quiet.

I wet my lips. “Having fun,” I reply.

“You think it’s fun to show your body to every drunk guy that begs to see it?”

Wait? He doesn’t like it? Usually, from what I can remember right now, he would have been one of those drunk guys out there cheering a girl on. Then he would have pulled her down and taken her up to a room so he could enjoy her himself. I’ve seen it happen! Why isn’t he doing it now? What’s so different with me?

“No, I just…”

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