Tyson stares me down. “Okay. Do your thing, Lainey. Have fun.”
“Oh, I will,” I say. “Don’t you worry.”
Tyson stalks off as Hannah says, “Lainey, please come out to the pool with us. Gus—you should come, too.”
“Nah. We’re good here,” I say.
Hannah stares at me for a few more seconds, in full angst mode. “Okay. Just please be careful,” she says.
“Will do,” I say.
As Hannah turns to follow Tyson, I look at Gus. He gives me a yikes expression.
“Don’t worry about them,” I say. “What do you say we get out of here?”
“And go to the pool?” he asks.
I shake my head and tell him I have something better in mind.
—
A few minutes later, after I pay for our drinks, I am leading Gus through the lobby, over to the elevator, and up to our room. As we walk in, Gus glances around.
“Wow,” he says. “This is so nice.”
“Yeah,” I say as he stares down at a pair of Tyson’s sneakers on the floor outside the bathroom.
He looks back up at me, concerned. “You’re sharing a room with your friends?”
I nod.
“So they could come back any second—”
“That’s what these things are for,” I say, latching the security lock, then walking over to the bed. I sit down and immediately start unbuttoning my blouse, then take it off. He follows me like a puppy, watching as I remove my bra, then my jeans.
I’m down to my thong when Gus finally sits down and starts kissing me. He’s a bit awkward, but he has nice lips. We make out for a few minutes, then I start unbuttoning his shirt. A few charged seconds later, we are both completely naked. I pull him on top of me.
He is rock hard, but still hesitates. “I don’t have any…uh…protection.”
“That’s okay. I’m on the pill. And I’ve been recently tested. All good. You?” I ask—which is always the full extent of my inquiry.
“Oh. Yes. All good here, too,” he says with a nervous laugh.
“Awesome,” I say, kissing him again, ready to get the show on the road.
He pulls away, then says, “And you’re…not too drunk to consent?”
“No, Gus,” I say, thinking that if he keeps it up, I’ll be too bored to consent. “I’m all set.”
Chapter 10
Tyson
“You think we should go check on Lainey?” Hannah asks as we sit poolside on chaise lounges. Mine is under the shade of an umbrella, while hers is angled toward the sun.
“Nah. She’s a big girl,” I say, sipping my margarita. I’m not one to drink during the day, but after the morning we’ve had, the tequila hits just right. “She’s got a higher tolerance than both of us combined.”
“I’m not talking about her tolerance,” Hannah says.
“You mean Dog Guy?” I say—which is how Lainey will undoubtedly refer to him from now on, though Dog Boy might be more accurate. “Lainey could eat him alive.”
“Yeah. But I mean…I’m just worried about her mental state generally.”
“She’ll figure it out,” I say. “She always does.”
“Maybe so. But I think she’s really struggling.”
“I know,” I say. “But I find it hard to muster much sympathy for her. That shit at her sister’s house was so unnecessary. She went in there looking for a fight.”
“I think that was a defense mechanism. She was scared—”
“Oh, please,” I say. “Lainey’s never scared.”
“Maybe not scared scared. But she was definitely afraid of rejection. She wanted to hurt them before they could hurt her.”
I swipe my thumb along the salted rim of my plastic cup, then lick it off. “Well, she pulled that off in spades.”
“I just wanted to help her,” Hannah says. “But coming down here was clearly a bad idea.”
