“Why are you still in Utah?”
Sometimes this app thing where we can see exactly where each other is at any given time is as much a curse as a blessing. “We ran into a bit of a hiccup.”
“What kind of hiccup? Wait a second, are you at a motel?”
“I blew a tire and all the garages are closed until morning. I don’t want to drive another four hours on a spare and risk bending the frame on Ellie, so Lawson and I are staying here for the night.” I always name my cars.
“At a motel? With Lawson?”
“Yeah.” I approach the ancient vending machine and rummage around in my purse for coins. The selection is unsurprisingly weak.
“In separate rooms?”
“They only had one left.”
“You’re in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. How are all the rooms rented out?” Her disbelief is not unwarranted.
“There’s a wedding.” I start shoving quarters into the slot. “Look, I need whatever intel you have on this Lawson guy. He seems nice, but you know how shitty my man radar is.”
“Already looked into him. Based on Griffin’s reports, he’s a good guy. Kinda awkward, used to be a bit of a playboy, but seems to have settled down in the past couple of years. Might have asked about you at a party a while back. I don’t know if he’s relationship material, but if you’re having fun with him I can give you my sisterly approval and a green light to enjoy yourself should you end up spooning tonight.”
Griffin is a very stand-up guy, so his opinion is generally something I trust. “Okay. Thanks. Sister approval noted and appreciated. I’ll call you in the morning when we’re back on the road.”
“Sounds good. Have fun and stay safe.” She makes a kissy sound. “Love you!”
I end the call feeling good about my judgment as far as Lawson is concerned and go back to assessing my snack options. Funyuns and Cool Ranch Doritos, while delicious, are not ideal when sleeping in close quarters with a man I don’t know that well, but find attractive. Also, Cosy’s green light factors in at least a little.
I settle on a bag of plain chips and another of pretzels, even though I don’t particularly love them either. I check the dates to make sure they’re not expired before I also buy a package of Nibs and another of sour gummies. I only have enough quarters left for one bottle of Mountain Dew, but we can share.
“I come bearing gifts!” I shout as I shoulder my way through the door. And freeze because standing in the middle of the room with one foot in a pair of fresh cargo shorts is Lawson.
And he’s commando.
Free balling.
Also, he has a peen piercing.
Speed Dating
Lawson
I CHECKED TO make sure Nevah was still hitting up the vending machine before I stepped out of the bathroom. That was less than thirty seconds ago. I’m currently balanced on one leg, trying to get my foot in my shorts, but I’m wearing my flip-flops and I’m still damp post-shower, so the fabric is sticking to my skin, making the task virtually impossible.
This wouldn’t be so bad if I was, say, wearing boxer briefs. But I’m not. Because I don’t own underwear. I find them constrictive and an unnecessary expense. The only time I like my balls cupped is when a nice soft hand is fondling them. Preferably not my own.
“Holy wow.” Nevah is standing in the middle of the open doorway carrying an armload of snacks. A bottle of soda slips from her hold, bounces off her right foot, and lands on the nasty brown carpet with a thud.
“Ow! Fuck!” Nevah drops the rest of the stuff, grabs her toe, and hops around on one foot, face contorted in a mask of pain.
A family of four just happens to pass by our open door at exactly the same time. The mom gasps and covers her children’s eyes while her own lock on my swinging junk. One of them is a teenage girl who tries to pry her mom’s hand away.
I trip over my shorts and face-plant into the carpet.
“Sorry, so sorry!” Nevah shouts and slams the door in their shocked faces.
She slides down the wall, and a loud pop startles us both. Pretzels shoot across the carpet like shrapnel, and I get beaned in the forehead with a rogue piece. My cheek is currently pressed against the disgusting carpet that smells like a combination of filth and green olive juice. My legs are tangled up in my shorts, so I’m forced to flip over onto my back.
“Oh God! Get up, get up!” Nevah hobble rushes over and slides her arms under mine. I probably weigh a good sixty pounds more than she does, so I’m impressed that she manages to pull me a couple of feet toward the tent; however, the carpet has the texture of sandpaper and is highly unpleasant.
“Ahh! Stop! My balls are dragging on the carpet!” I shout. I also think I’m getting rug burn on my ass.
“Sorry! I was trying to lift you, but you’re a hell of a lot heavier than I expected.” She jumps back as I spring to my feet, still swinging free, bare ass on display. I yank my shorts up the rest of the way, making sure I’m tucked in before I zip up the fly and fasten the button.
Her hand is in front of her face, but there’s a narrow gap between two fingers and her eyes are trained on my crotch.
“What the hell just happened?”
“Probably a lot of things I could go to prison for in this town.”
Nevah snorts a laugh, which, of course, means I start laughing, too. She grabs my shoulders and sags against me, laughing so hard tears stream down her face.
“You just flashed an entire family.”
“I thought I had enough time to get dressed before you got back.”
She sucks in a ragged breath and tips her head up, eyes wide
