Page 12 of The Cabin

He sits up. “Okay, what’s something you want to do now? That you haven’t done?”

“Okay, um, something I’ve always wanted to do…” I pause to think for a minute, tapping my finger on my chin dramatically. “Get a tattoo,” I say, knocking back my almost empty glass. Grayson reaches over to fill it. That is probably not the best idea but I am too warm and fuzzy to care.

“You don’t have any?” he asks, giving me a once over. I feel every single spot his eyes land on.

“Nope. I have a couple ideas but I haven’t been brave enough.”

“What were the ideas?” I’m taken aback for a second by just how invested he seems in the conversation. Especially a conversation that is about me. It doesn’t seem like something he’s just doing because he’s supposed to, it feels like he is actually interested in what I’m saying.

I don’t realize how personal I find the question until I’m nibbling my lip, thinking about how much I want to share. “I really want a sun…” I hedge. That feels safe.

“Because of your name?” I nod. “Where would you get it?”

“I’ve gone back and forth a million times. I think maybe in between my shoulder blades. Maybe a little higher, closer to my neck.” I rub the spot absentmindedly. “What about you?” I add, laying my head in my hand, propped up by my elbow on the back of the couch.

“Probably a Care Bear.” His grin is goofy. See? It’s not that easy of a question, is it? I send a flat look in his direction as he continues. “I’m serious! Care Bears are very sentimental to me.” I probably shouldn’t roll my eyes when I’m this tipsy. I’m getting kind of dizzy. “When I was younger I used to wear a Care Bear onesie to school every day.” He looks so serious, but he’s got to be messing with me.

He must read the doubt on my face because he adds, “Cross my heart,” as he mimes the motion.

I am now hysterically laughing, tears streaming down my face, shaking my head in disbelief. “There is absolutely no way!” I cackle, feet slapping the couch in emphasis. Dramatic much? Get a hold of yourself, Sol.

“I’m telling you! I wore it every single day,” he insists, running a hand across his stubbled jawline.

“Yeah right! You’re trying to tell me that you, Mr. Big, Strong, and Sexy used to wear a Care Bear onesie to school every single day?”

“I’ll prove it to you!” He jumps up to grab his phone from a nearby side table. After a few moments of scrolling, he shoves it towards my face proudly, our fingers brushing as I grab the phone to get a better look. I lose my shit.

“Oh my god, how old were you? I thought you were talking about elementary school!”

“I dunno, like fifteen? How old are you in eleventh grade?” His shoulders almost reach his ears in a shrug.

“Eleventh grade! You’ve got to be kidding me. Did everyone make fun of you?”

“I wasn’t, sorry, what did you call it? Mr. ‘Big, Strong, and Sexy,’ back then. So, yeah. They did.” He uses air quotes around the title.

“I did not call you big, strong, and… whatever…” My eyes go wide. Did I say that? Oh fuck, I’ve had way too much to drink.

“And sexy, yeah, you did.” He has the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen plastered across his face.

“Oh, fuck. I’m sorry. Blame it on the wine!” I cry, shoving my glass away and burying my face in my hands.

“Don’t worry, I was thinking way worse in the shower today.” My stomach does backflips. I look up to see his eyes have darkened again. I can’t seem to make myself look away. His gaze travels down to my lips, and as if on instinct, I feel the need to wet them. My tongue runs along my lower lip slowly, and my eyes finally leave his face to focus on his hands gripping the couch. Like he’s trying to restrain himself from touching anything. Or anyone.

Before I can truly begin to overanalyze what’s happening, I feel a buzzing on my leg.

I’m slow to react, fumbling to grab his phone from where I had dropped it. “Your, um, phone is ringing…” I shake my head to try to clear it. Wait a second. “What the hell! You get service up here?” I yell, looking down at his ringing cell phone in my hand. The name Natalie pops up and I throw it in his direction.

“It’s uh, hit or miss.” You can tell he was just as hypnotized by the moment as I was. He tries to laugh, but it dies in his throat. His face falls, and he shoves the phone between the cushions, letting out a big sigh. The evening’s energy pops like a balloon.

“I can, uh, go so you can take that…” I start to look for my shoes.

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s just my wife.” My heart stops. Hiswhat? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.Hijo de puta.I have been wine drunk, on a couch, with someone else’s husband. I ate a romantic steak dinner with someone else’s husband. I called someone else’s husband sexy! Oh my god, I am no better than that woman Brian had in my bed.Trampa, trampa, trampa.

I can feel my face heat about a million degrees, the tears already pooling, ready to drip down my face. Oh fuck. I cannot start crying here. I find my shoes and shove them on as quickly as possible, half stumbling, half running to the door. I just hope I don’t trip on my way back to the cabin. One bruised ankle is injury enough. And I certainly won’t be coming back up here for any medical attention.

“Sol, wait! You don’t have to go.” I can hear him following me out onto the porch. I don’t look back as I call, “Thank you so much for dinner. It was super lovely. Good luck with the renovations!” I’m moving way too quickly, the wine having done a number on my equilibrium, but I just don’t care.

A thought hits me and I stop dead in my tracks. You know what? No. I will not take responsibility for another piece of shit man being a piece of shit. I didn’t fucking know he had a wife. He wasn’t wearing a ring. I wasn’t checking out other naked people while legally bound to another human. I didn’t invite someone over on what very much seemed like a date while I hid out in a cabin in the middle of the woods, ignoring phone calls from my significant other.

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