Page 22 of Riding the Pine

My face is on fire, my skin is hot and the pulsing in my brain has returned.

“What?” Apollo calls attention to what can only be horror painted on my face.

I shake my head.

“If you’re gonna hurl you better move your ass.” Artemis has a mixture of irritation and caution tangled together in his tone.

“I don’t think he’s gonna hurl.” Apollo regards me with a curiosity that says he might be able to peer inside my brain like he can with his brother, too. Fuck, I sure as hell hope he can’t.

I purse my lips together and keep shaking my head though the monkeys are starting to raise their cymbals again like they’re ready to party.

Shit. Athena de la Peña saw me naked. Like, all-the-way naked. I mean, I’m not worried about my body. Despite the occasional binge-drinking session and entire XL pizza all to myself, I stay in good shape. Upside to being an athlete is I don’t have much chance to sloth out and let myself overeat too often. The amount of gym time, ice time and game time keeps us pretty busy.

Though, I do have a sweet tooth… or three.

I’m more concerned with the fact she may have thought it was some kind of drunken striptease, like I was hitting on her.

I groan.

Fuck,wasit a drunken striptease? I have no idea because I’m only remembering fragments, not full picture reruns of what actually happened. But it probably could have been. I’m down for pretty much anything at the best of times, never mind when I’ve had a drink… or a lot of drinks.

Shit. I highly doubt she consented to have my schlong assault her pretty eyes while trying to usher me to bed. Did I just… strip?

Christ. My stomach lurches again. Did I helicopter my cock at her?

Did I make jokes about my full moon as I climbed into bed?

Jesus, did she have to like… literally manhandle me into bed?

I have so many questions, and precisely zero answers. Her twin brothers are staring at me with varying degrees of concern and intensity in their eyes waiting for an answer. If I say their sister saw me naked—unsolicited full body nakedness is way worse than sending an accidental dick pic—there’s a 94% chance I’ll instantly be unalived by both of them, at the same time.

What the hell do I do? Do I message her? What the fuck do I say?Hey, Bright Eyes, just wanted to make sure you know last night wasn’t some kind of erotic dancing come on?

Under normal circumstances, I’d ask the guys how to handle the rare dating-situation nightmare I find myself in. I don’t know how to dothat, the talking-to-girls-and-not-being-a-total-idiot-around-them thing.

But this? This is way worse. Aside from almost kissing her in the car a couple years ago, I’ve made a very concerted effort not to throw myself at her or put her in a compromising position of having to say ‘no’ to me. I’ve done so fucking well. And the first week at college I just whipped out my dick.

Never mind her brothers wanting to kill me, there’s every chance she’ll dismember my member the next time I see her.

As if by magic, one of the older players opens our front door, and she’s there in all her goddess glory. She’s gorgeous, as always. She’s wearing skin-tight yoga pants that seem to be having an impact on my closing-over throat.

Are yoga pants always that tight? Did they make the pants around her body while she stood there? I have questions, mostly because I have embarrassment, shame, disgust, and did I mention embarrassment?

She’s walking toward us, but I can’t meet her eyes, I’m terrified that all I’ll see is disgust, anger, or worse, disappointment.

She comes straight over to the couch and hands me a bottle of blue Powerade. I look up, daring to lock my gaze with hers. Her expressive, brown eyes are swimming with concern. “Ice?”

I hop to my feet. “Sure. I’ll get it.”

She nods, waving a bulging, plastic Target back at me. “I brought a couple things.” She pauses, glancing at her brothers with an assessing, caustic stare. “Either of you go too hard last night and need rescuing?”

They both shake their heads, and it’s Artemis who speaks up. “We had non-alcoholic beer and left it at that.” There’s no accusation or judgement in his voice but I feel it all the same. Shame spreading through my limbs like melted butter. I need to do better. I need tobebetter.

I can’t take the chance that I’ll get kicked out of this college for being an unsociable asshole. Athena stares at them both for a long moment, flicks her eyes to me then back to them, like she’s silently berating them for not stepping in and stopping me from getting myself into a state.

No matter what she thinks, or even says to them, they aren’t responsible for me. I should have done better by myself. I chalk last night up to just another reason why I’m not good enough to be with her. I should know better. She’s always so well kept, so poised, so professional.

I’ve never seen her drunk, or out of control, hell, I’ve never even seen her with out-of-control hair after sleeping on it for a night. She’s always…perfect. And she deserves perfection in return.

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