“Serena’s here, though. He’ll probably keep it on,” Graham says.
Serena leans against the table, straightening her back. The corner of her mouth twitches when Graham’s eyes jump to her boobs for a split second, like they have a mind of their own. “This thing you have for me really isn’t healthy, Graham. At some point, you have to accept I’m out of your league.”
Before they can keep at it, a guy walks in carrying two huge bags of ice, one on each shoulder. Damn, he’s tall. Probably six foot four at least, with light brown curly hair that he blows out of his eyes. “Stop going after my woman, dude. You know I have dibs.”
“Oh my god.” Zara covers her face with her hand momentarily. “You can’t call dibs on a person.”
I open the freezer and step back so he can put the ice inside. After he closes the door, he regards me, and a smile leaps across his face. “Well, hi.” He glances up at the guys then back to me. “What’s your name?”
“Kelly. You must be Marty.”
His eyes roam down my body and back up. It’s more playful than creepy. “Did my good looks give me away?”
“No, but I’ve been warned that you hit on everything with boobs, so I put two and two together.”
Laughter echoes around the room, and Graham points to an oversized Jenga game set up on the table against the wall. “Jell-O shot Jenga?”
Marty pops open his beer and pulls off his shirt. “Let’s do it.”
The next few hours are more fun than I expected. The guys are a lot of fun, and I love the way they go back and forth with my friends. It’s clear they’re all close. It doesn’t seem like a bad group to be a part of.
I meet a few other people throughout the night, but no guys who stand out. Oh well, there’s no hurry. This is what I wanted. To have a life of my own. Some fun.
I’m a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, and it doesn’t take long for the shots to catch up with me. I stick to beer after that, but I’m still nowhere near sober when someone suggests we go for a swim. It’s after midnight and a lot of the other people have left. There’s still a small group in the living room playing video games.
“Where are we going to swim at midnight?” I ask.
“We have a pool here,” Owen says.
“That closed about four hours ago,” Graham points out from his spot on the couch, his eyes never leaving the TV screen.
“Shut up, Dad!” Owen grins at Marty, who nods.
“I can pick that lock no problem.”
Break into the pool for a midnight swim? My mind races with the thought and something occurs to me. This feels like a line. One that the old obedient, careful Kelly wouldn’t cross. Which is probably why I want to stomp across it. Or, you know, it’s the alcohol. Either way. I glance at the girls. “I’m in.”
“Holy shit, we have corrupted her,” Serena squeals, hugging me. “Let’s go.”
I notice they’re leaving their purses and bags, so I hand Serena my phone and stuff from my pockets to keep in her purse.
The night is hot and sticky, the late summer humidity hanging in the air. Graham stays behind at the apartment, while Owen, Marty, and a few others from the party creep down the darkened street with me and the girls.
“We don’t have our swimsuits,” I hiss, suddenly remembering.
“Skinny dipping,” Marty sings.
“No way,” Remee argues. “I’m keeping underwear on.”
I’m glad I wore a dark bra and boyshort panties. The thought of stripping down to them in front of everyone should make me panic but instead I feel a surge of excitement.
The pool sits at one end of the apartment complex, surrounded by a shoulder high chain link fence. A few light poles surround it, but the domes are dark. They must only be used during the evening and turned off at closing.
We’re half hidden in shadows as Marty tries to pick the lock on the gate. It doesn’t take him long to get it unlocked.
“How do you know how to do that?” I ask as we enter.
One side of his mouth darts up. “You impressed?”
“More curious if you’re a criminal.”
“My dad is a locksmith.” He leans down and his next words are close to my ear. “And this is breaking and entering, so technically, you’re also a criminal now.”
Wouldn’t Dad be proud? “I guess we can add indecent exposure to that charge,” I giggle, catching up with the girls who are already stripping down.
“Not one of us thought to grab a towel,” Remee says, tossing her shirt aside.
“We don’t need towels!” Marty exclaims and pulls off his shorts with a flourish.
Okay, that’s a penis.
Just be cool. It’s not going to attack you. It’s just sitting there looking all penis-y. Act natural. Like penises get whipped out around you every day. Like you’re so used to seeing random genitals that you’re positively bored with it.
Oh look, ho hum, a penis.
Do they all lean to the left like that? Or can guys control it? Can they just flex and move them side to side like a windshield wiper?
“I think I broke her,” Marty says, and I realize I’m just frozen in place, staring at it.
My cheeks heat as much from the laughter as from the actual unexpected dick sighting. “Shut up. I was thinking it’s gross you don’t wear underwear.”
Owen keeps his boxer briefs on, and the girls wear their bras and panties like I do. Serena’s is thin and white. It may as well be non-existent once she jumps in the water and surfaces. She doesn’t seem to care.
My plan was to inch into the water down the steps, but Owen isn’t having it. Before I can get to the second step, he scoops me up and charges in until we’re both soaked.
“Ah,” I gasp. “Asshole! It’s cold!”
What a way to sober up.
I stand up and swipe the water out of my eyes, my whole body shivering. Better to get in the deep end. I’ll adjust to the temperature quicker if I swim underwater a little. Diving down, I open my eyes, and start swimming. It’s nice under here. And it’s kind of a unique experience. I’ve never swam drunk before, especially at night in a dark pool. It’s eerie and exhilarating.
Everyone swims to the deep end and Owen gets out, flashing a smile at us as he heads to the diving board. He stands on the edge and does a back flip into the water. Not to be outdone by him, Marty climbs out and heads for the diving board—holy hell, where did his penis go?
Oh god. I said that out loud.
Everyone heard it too, except for him, judging by the uproarious laughter around me.
“What?” Marty asks, pausing at the end of the diving board.
“Nothing!” Serena calls sweetly. “Poor little scared turtle.”
Marty’s face is pure confusion.
Owen holds onto the edge of the pool and looks up at him. “Don’t listen to them, man. Everyone knows they shrink in cold water.”
Marty glances down and the outrage in his expression makes everyone lose it laughing again.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t…know that happened.” God, this is mortifying and now I’ve probably made him feel bad or given him a complex. Dropping my voice a little, I turn to Serena. “It’s like a mouse darting back into its hole. Do they always do that?”