“Fudging slippery squares of evil. I could have just died,” he says breathlessly.
“Bubble. Are you okay?” I stare into his forest-green eyes, the scent of strawberries surrounding us, and that’s when I realize Bubble is naked.
“So youdoknow my name.”
His hair is sticking up in all directions and beads of water run down his skin.
Don’t look. Don’t look.
But I do because the steam must have gone to my head.
All I know is that Bubble is…well, thank god, not totally naked. The towel he probably had around his waist is now in his hands covering his…his…fuck…
Bubble is slim with a curved waist that is almost feminine, if it wasn’t for the trail of light-brown hair leading from his belly button and disappearing under the towel.
He doesn’t have any hair on his chest, just two very perky pink nipples.
My mouth goes dry. I know I need to say something, but somehow my brain has cut all communication with my mouth, and I can’t utter a single word.
“Like what you see, Coach?” he asks in a teasing voice, and that’s when I realize I’ve been staring longer than appropriate for a work colleague. Especially when said work colleague is basically naked. Or for a straight man to stare at a gay man.
I grab my bag and run out of the room, not stopping until I’m inside my car.
Even the cold outside does nothing to soothe the weird ache in my belly. And why is my dick so fucking hard?
I’m not attracted to men. I’ve always been with Mel, and I loved her and enjoyed having sex with her.
I grip my steering wheel hard. What the hell is happening to me?
Could it be the move to Connecticut? Maybe it’s all this change. It’s just a physiological reaction. Maybe I’ve been without sex for so long now that my body reacts to any naked adult.
I look in the rearview mirror and meet my own eyes. “Okay, change of plans. We go home, shower, and pack. Tomorrow, we do the grocery shopping and head over to the cabin. We need to get away from Windsor sooner than I thought. And the proof is that you’re sitting in your car talking to yourself like you’re someone else.”
Fuck my life.
6
BUBBLE
The driveto Stillwater is pretty easy, even with the recent snow. Props to LA-born-and-raised Bubble for not crashing the car or killing an elderly person or animal along the way.
There’s a woodland road to get to the cabin, as marked on the map, the navigation system, and the notes Mr. and Mrs. Crawford gave me.
I stop the car, but I’m sure I’m in the wrong place.
“Fudgesickles. I hope I’m not on the wrong side of the lake.” I unfold the big map I brought and lay it over the steering wheel. At least it’s nice and toasty inside the car.
With my finger, I trace the road I took from Windsor toward Stillwater and then out toward the lake.
I seem to be in the right place, but this cabin…well…it’s much more than I expected.
When Mr. and Mrs. Crawford mentioned a cabin by the lake, I imagined something small and cozy, surrounded by trees. The kind of stuff fairytales are made of.
But this is more than just a little Hansel and Gretel-type cozy cabin in the woods.
“Well, only one way to find out if this is the real deal.” I put my beanie on my head and scramble to put my coat on because I’m not stupid enough to go out there in just a sweater, no matter how close that front door is.
I turn off the car and brave the cold outside. This is the moment of truth.
