Page 52 of The Lovers
It gets some grunts of stirring, and one of them calls out for five more minutes, but it doesn’t do the job here like it did on Cash. I try it a couple more times, but even with it not right up close to my own ear, my head is starting to ache. When I look back at Julia, I see she’s got her hands covering her ears and a pained expression on her face. I stand, pocketing the phone again.
“We need a new plan,” I say, walking back toward her as she drops her hands from her ears. She considers the room, eyes drifting over each sleeping form, warm and cozy in the already deepening morning heat. For November, even in the desert, the weather today is warm, bringing sweat to all clothing-covered crevices.
“Shock,” she says, her face twisting, features brightening with the beginning of an idea.
“Wake them up with a start,” I add on.
“It’s beyond warm temps in here,” she continues. “It’s downright toasty.”
We look at each other in unison. “Debate team trip.” The words said in sync set off a chain reaction of laughter.
Junior year, our debate team made it to the state competition in Sacramento. The whole team drove up on a bus and stayed overnight at a Holiday Inn right off the Five freeway. Julia and I were both on the team, alternates for the main players, sure, but that didn’t matter for this trip. Everyone was invited. The night before the final match, some of the seniors—mostly boys and, you guessed it, Karen MacMillan and her posse—got wasted and didn’t show up for breakfast. Our coach, Mr. Dudley, used the showerheads in the bathrooms to shock them awake. They all got slaps on the wrist for conduct, and a couple of the boys were given suspensions for supplying the booze that got everyone drunk, but Coach Dudley’s method worked to rouse them awake enough to participate in the match.
“There has to be a water hose on the property somewhere,” I say, now that our laughter has died back.
“It’s wholly unprofessional to spray my clients with a water hose to wake them up,” she replies. She’s second-guessing her instinct, a trait I’m noticing more and more—another trait that is so unlike the girl I used to know.
“Julia.” I savor the taste of her name on my tongue. Our eyes lock. “I dare you to find a water hose and spray these dudes awake with it.”
My mouth goes dry as she stares at me, contemplating thedare, clearly weighing out her options. She wasn’t reckless, not ever, but shewassure every time she decided to act, always relying on her gut to lead the way. I feel it with a pang, the desire to remind her that she can trust herself. She doesn’t need someone to dare her to do what she already knows she desires.
“Triple. Dog. Dare.” I raise my brow in a challenge.
“Let’s go,” she says, and I see the decision snap into place as a wave of certainty washes over her from crown to toes.
We shoot back through the tent flap and blinkingly look around for a hose. Nothing right up next to the tent, or the surrounding tents, but not too far off we spot a watering trough like you’d expect to see in a real Old West town for horses to get a drink after a long day carrying humans and cargo through the desert. As we near, I can tell by the remnants of a few unopened beer bottles that its use in Bachelor Town was for storing libations. Rolled up on the side of the trough is a green water hose that appears to be connected to a water source below. Julia grabs the hose, uncurling it so she has a good grip, before turning the nozzle to test if it actually works.
The hose quickly tenses up in her hands, and after a few seconds, a slow stream of water begins to pour out through the end. She grins. “I’ll unroll it back toward the tent. Can you go ahead of me to secure the flap open?”
“Sure thing.” I run ahead to follow her instructions. There are ties attached to both corners of the tent flap, so I roll the first up to its corresponding loop, securing the corner back. I repeat the motion on the other side, finishing just as she reaches the tent and shakes out a kink that’s formed while unrolling the hose. Her eyes meet mine as she gets into position, bright with excitement. She lets a sharp puff of air out through her nostrils.
“I’ll turn up the pressure.” On my way past her, the instinct to brush her arm with the tips of my fingers is almost too strong to resist. Her skin is warm tan; the faint hairs on her arm are soft. I count down as I walk, trying to focus on anything but all these feelings.
Julia isn’t the only woman I’ve had an intoxicating crush on, but she’s been the only one who ever felt worth risking it all for. I fucked it up before, even with the heady desire to give her my all, and I can’t do that to her again. This time, if I take the leap, I have to be sure I’m willing to go all in.
I curl my fingers around the nozzle and twist until it won’t go any farther. I can see the water pressure turning the slack hose tight on its way to the end. I chase the water all the way back to Julia, reaching the entrance to the tent just as she lifts the hose, placing her finger into the flow to make it spray. She takes aim at the groom’s exposed, taut torso. Spray from the hose splashes out over the body of one of the other guys, who is sleeping in a beanie, a pair of boxers, and nothing else on top of a sleeping bag.
The drops hit his stomach just as the harder pressure smacks against Sean.
The groom’s eyes slice open, startled, as his guttural scream fills the tent. He shoots to his feet, stepping on the beanie guy, which sends him upright and directly into the flow of the water hose. Julia turns the spray on his chest for a second, before moving it around the tent. In a flurry of water and wails, the bachelors wake, jumping in panic to avoid the continued onslaught from the water weapon. I’m hiding behind her as the mayhem unfolds, but all I can think about is how close I’m standing to her body.
My eyes rake down her form, coursing over her hair tugged into a tight, low ponytail. They slip over her curves, noticing theway her button-down blouse hits the waistline of her jeans, how the minty color pops against her skin. I imagine wrapping my fingers around her waist and tugging her against me. Pressing my whole body into the length of hers, leaning my nose into the crown of her head to smell her.
Making her mine in every single sense of the word, no remorse, no holding back.
Chapter Twenty
Julia
They’re going to riot over this, but I don’t care. This isn’t the way perfect planner Julia Kelley handles unforeseen bumps on the road to her clients’ marital bliss. This is wild, reckless, former teenage rebel Julia Kelley.
How I’ve missed her.
“Holy balls, Julia, what the fuck did you do this for?” Sean sideswipes the spray of the hose on his way over to me.
“You and your bros are an hour late to the brunch picnic site. Millie may be a saint but she’s not going to let a full no-show slide.” I lower the hose. “I can’t let this derail your rehearsal dinner or, worse, the actual wedding.”
He rakes his fingers through his sandy brown hair, eyes widening in horror.
