Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part One
Page 28

“Why am I kidding you?” he asked. That’s when I realized I’d not exactly kept that thought to myself.
There was no way to hide my staring, and since I couldn’t rip my eyes away from his body I decided to go with the truth, no matter how painful it was. “Seriously, THAT’S what you’ve been hiding under your LEAVE IT TO BEAVER clothes?” I asked, as he stood on the very edge of the ledge where the sunlight highlighted every bit of his perfection. He looked like one of those tattoo models on the cover of INKED magazine. Was it too much to ask that he have lopsided nipples or a beer belly?
“Like what you see, Doc?” Preppy asked, rubbing his chest, slowly sliding hands down his abs, gyrating his hips like some sort of erotic dancer. A move I’d never found attractive…until right then. Shit, there wasn’t much I’d found attractive before Conner and I started on our road trip to hell, and the first stirring of any kind of desire in over a year comes courtesy of the devil in a bow tie.
Man, I really was fucked up.
“God, no” I said, finding my voice. “I mean, what kind of person would like that?” I asked, twisting my face in disgust. “What I meant was that you’re like seriously disgusting. You should just cover…” I waved to his bare chest, “all that up,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “If we were in public, there would be people puking everywhere at the sight of you. So gross.” By the time I was done with my rant, Preppy’s smile had grown so big it was blinding.
Without warning he shoved down the waistband of his pants. I quickly turned around so he wouldn’t see the redness creeping up my neck at the thought of him without his pants on, and I kept rambling, “Do a sit up for Christ’s sake, before you go flashing your flabs all over the place.”
Preppy’s chuckle echoed over the water. “What was that, Doc?” he called out, “You want to sit on my face?”
“I am so fucking screwed.” I muttered, keeping my voice low, but he heard me anyway.
“Not yet, anyway,” he said.
“What the fuck?” I asked, turning around. “Do you have fucking sonic hearing? Or maybe sonar, like a dolphin?” Preppy was perched at the edge of the ledge, dressed only in a pair of black boxers.
With one last wag of his eyebrows in my direction, he held his nose and jumped off the rock, hugging his knees tightly to his chest. “Cannnnnnnon Baaaaaaaalllll!” he yelled, until he connected with the water, sending a huge splash raining down over me. I guess I wasn’t staying dry after all.
I was wiping the water from my eyes and realized that was a huge mistake when my eyes began to sting. “Shit!” I said, stumbling around blindly.
I heard the water dripping onto the rocks and Preppy’s feet as he padded over to me. “Here, stop,” he said, taking my face in his hands and tilting my chin up so he could inspect my eyes. “The pond is salt water, it connects underground to some of the canals around here and salt water is a bitch on the eyes. Open your eyes and blink as much as you can and as fast as you can,” he ordered, and I listened. It stung at first, but after a minute the stinging sensation eased up as a mixture of salt water and tears dripped from my eyes.
“Thanks,” I said, focusing on the man above me, his hair and beard dripping with water, droplets beading on his chest.
He kept his hands on my face. “You’re next, Doc,” he said, in a low suggestive voice. “I want you to get nice and wet.”
“Do you ever say anything that’s NOT dripping with innuendo?” I asked, pulling away from him and turning around to pull my now wet hair into a high ponytail. I heard Preppy padding back up to where he’d hung his jeans, and then the sound of his buckle as he got dressed.
I made the very big mistake of whipping around too quickly, not realizing that Preppy was standing right behind me, and again I slammed right into his hard wet chest. Even worse, when I put my hands out to cushion the impact, they landed low. TOO LOW. And right on something very large and VERY hard in the front of his pants.
He shrugged. “Probably not, but I can’t say for sure, being as I don’t really keep track of that kind of shit,” he answered, following my gaze which was still locked on the crotch of his pants and the huge bulge pushing out the fabric.
“Ummm…” I said, diverting my eyes.
Preppy laughed and reached into his waistband. Just as I was about to turn tail, thinking that I was about to come face to face with little Preppy in all his glory, he pulled out a pistol. “It’s just my gun,” he said, tucking it back in then wringing the water from his hair. “Although, the other weapon I’m packing down there is just as impressive.”
“Why do you have a gun?” I asked, without thinking of how stupid my question really was. Maybe, if he ever put his god damned shirt back on, my case of stupid would turn back off.
“Why do I have a gun?” he repeated, like it was the ridiculous question that it was. “’Cause throwing bullets by hand isn’t exactly effective.”
“You carry that all the time?” I asked, curious.
“Every day that ends in Y.”
“Why? Because you’re a criminal?”
“Really? We going there, Doc? ’Cause last time I checked, heroin wasn’t exactly legal.” He leaned in closer like he was sharing a secret, whispering, “Neither is robbing your grandmother.”
“Fuck you,” I spat, the lightness between us growing heavy in the span of a few words, like an anvil had been dropped on top of us.
“Gladly,” he responded. “But you’re just as much of a criminal as I am.”
“No. I don’t do the things you do,” I argued.
“No, but you know about the shit I do. That makes you an accessory. Keep them coming. This is fun.”
I growled, growing frustrated with both the company and the fact that I couldn’t find the break in the brush where we’d come in. I set my sights on the rocks protruding from the perch where Preppy had just jumped in the water and started climbing them. I didn’t know where they lead, but anywhere else was the only place I needed to go. “I knew this entire day would be a mistake.”
“You can’t go anywhere, Doc,” Preppy said, sounding bored.
“Oh yeah? And why the hell not?” I asked, finding my footing and pulling up. One step down. I looked up. About seventy to go.