1
Ivy
“Anybody ever tell you that you look like a real-life Anime girl?” He leans forward, way too close to me, so I rear back.
I should not have come here.
I should not ever have let Megan talk me into this weekend. She just accused me of overreacting, but no. No way. This was not kosher – not remotely.
Why did I ignore my instincts back at that gas station when we met up with this guy? My momma and her sister told me, my whole life: Ivy, never ever ignore your gut. And I do. All the bloody time! Why don’t I ever learn?
Megan? She’s a backstabbing witch and that’s why I have no choice but to leave without her. I’m officially done with her completely.
The sales pitch she used: two hundred bucks per person for a luxury waterfront chalet with everything included for the whole weekend. A pool. Hot tub. This place is supposed to have equal numbers guys and girls and be well-stocked with food and booze. Two to a room. We would share a room, she said, unless one of us wanted to spend the night with someone we met, then we’d discuss it. She assured me I wouldn’t be turfed out of my room when I told her that no way would I let a guy move in on me that quickly.
I have been working my butt off for weeks and have had all sorts of family drama going on between my bridezilla sister’s wedding, how my breaking up with a guy who also happens to be in her wedding is me trying to ruin her day, and my parents splitting up with Dad trying to worm his way back in after cheating on Mom, so I convinced myself that I deserved a weekend away. I needed it. I’ve been working my tail off and I deserve it.
Tired of family drama, I decided I’ll ignore them all for the weekend. I’m having a mini family vacation (a vacation from my family).
The reality when we arrived? Chalet? Not quite. Stocked? Depends on your definition of stocked. Luxury? Nope. Not even close.
The reality: A two-bedroom single-story cottage. Not quite a dump, but nothing luxurious about it and it could work for two or maybe four people but no more than that. A hot tub, yes you could say that, but it was outside and filled with leaves. Yep, there was a pool, as advertised, but it’s a small above-ground pool that is neither filled nor likely fillable as it looks like it’s been sitting there empty for a decade. Oh, and it has a giant X on the side made of what looks like several layers of duct tape so filling it would probably not be wise.
I probably wouldn’t have minded so much if everything else were as advertised. Not even close. The waterfront references? I guess… if a swampy pond on the property counts. The large living room has two pull-out couches and there’s a closet with three more air beds in it. No privacy unless you’re lucky enough to get one of the two bedrooms. And they don’t have locks on the doors. In fact, neither does the bathroom.
Uh… nope.
The fridge has some cheap off-brand hot dogs, some beer, and there are some bags of chips and boxes of cereal on the counter along with a big bag of marshmallows. All this is complete with two boxes of wine and a bottle of gut-rot whisky.
There aren’t an equal number of guys and girls here, though, and that’s the biggest problem of them all. I can rough-it for a weekend, sure, but with a bunch of strangers? Worse… a bunch of guys?
There are seven people, but Megan and I are the only girls. The guy who organized this bash scammed us. Or… Megan scammed me. And I’m totally, absolutely done with her. She can stay if she wants to, but I am gone.
I like my creature comforts, sure, but the problem here is less about the cabin and more about the other people here as well as the tone, which is overtly sexual.
She got wasted in less than an hour and talked like a sleazy horndog. Innuendoes up the wazoo! And she is right now in one of the bedrooms with two of the guys. Two! And if that’s not bad enough, she’s left me alone with the other three guys. They’ve been eyeing me like I’m prime rib and also eyeing one another likely trying to determine who is going to make a move.
One, I think, wants me for himself. The one who talked about Anime is the guy who met us at the gas station and something about him just completely creeps me out.
The other two, I’m fairly sure, are hoping I’ll be like Megan and let them both at me together. They look like they’re over in the corner whisper-negotiating.
I am not down for it. None of it. I’m about to find my way out of here. I’m just thinking it over carefully because the guy who wants me for himself? I have a sinking sick feeling that he might be the sort to try to stop me from leaving.
Don’t think I’m a jerk for leaving Megan in a cabin with five men. I tried to talk her out of it. I’d pulled her aside three separate times and she gave me the brush-off each time about my concerns. The third time… before she went to the bedroom with two of them? She was adamant that we were staying.
“What are you gonna do, have a threesome?” I rolled my eyes, totally not serious, but she smiled like a cat that got the cream.
She was having a threesome. With two strangers we met an hour ago!
“I’m not doing anything with any of those guys,” I insisted, keeping my voice low.
“So, don’t. That doesn’t mean I’m not gonna. This is a bucket list item for me, baby. See you in a few hours, or … at work Monday if you decide you have to leave.” She shrugged and turned to go.
“What happened to never leaving a sister behind?”
“You wanna join in?” Her eyebrows rose.
“No. I mean leaving me out here with three men. This whole thing is ridiculous. We don’t know these guys. We need to go.”
I followed her to the counter where she mixed another alcoholic beverage with a heavy hand. “I’m not going. Feel free to leave this sister behind.”
“Don’t think I won’t,” I warned on a whisper.
“Fine.” She shrugged. “Boz or Josh will run me back tomorrow. Or Sunday.”
She sashayed off, winking at the other guys.
“You’re not thinkin’ of goin’, are ya?” The tall and wide grizzly of a guy asks.
This is the one I think wants me to himself and he is creeping me out to the degree it’s difficult to hide that my skin is crawling.
“Naw, I’m good,” I say and sit with my cup of Sprite. I’ve poured it into a glass with ice to make the contents questionable. It’s straight Sprite that I brought myself. They don’t need to know that.
And I wait exactly seven minutes, dodging dumb questions, encouragement to consume some shots (and a hit off a bong, which I decline) with dark looks from the lone guy, longing looks from another who keeps trying to do some sort of silent communication with his buddy, and that buddy is seeming like he’s more interested in his lack of a cell signal than anything else. He seems more agitated than anything and he’s suddenly of concern to me as much as the lone guy because the way he’s going on about not having a cell signal, he seems capable of snapping and getting violent.
At the seven-minute mark, I jump up and exclaim, “Oh! Speaking of Hentai…” I have no idea what they’re talking about but it’s a segue that should and does buy their attention, particularly the creepy Anime-loving guy, giving me a minute to scram – “Right back, boys. Got something you have gotta see.” I smile brightly as they all look at me with intrigue, even the guy obsessed with his phone.