Page 17 of Dibs
“When I find you, I am going to tickle you,” I announce, putting my hands over my eyes and hearing her slip into the first-floor primary bedroom. Apparently, we’ve moved on to Hide and Seek.
“I’ll huff and puff and...” I wheeze from inhaling too much weed. “Something or other that goes after that in the kids’ book?” Quietly, I squeeze through the door and see a Beck-sized lump beneath the blankets of her bed.
I jump on top of her without giving her my full weight, and I find her sides through the blanket and dig my fingertips in, tickling her until she cries, “Uncle! Uncle!”
When I flip the blanket down, Beck’s got tears streaming down her red face, and she holds up her pointer finger with feigned seriousness. “No more! No more or I’ll pee my pants! And you’re supposed to blow my house down, but instead, all you did was huff and puff.”
Beck stands and starts walking sideways to the bathroom, but I don’t ask questions. I curl up on the bed while she uses the bathroom, and then she emerges from her ex’s closet with a pair of his swimming trunks.
“How about we go sit in my ex’s hot tub out back?” Beck gives a shoulder shimmy. She taps her chin like she’s deep in thought. “Wait, did I already ask you if you wanted to get in the hot tub? Why am I the one deep in thought?”
I tap my chin, or at least I think it’s my chin, but it could be my jaw, who knows? I’m stoned out of my mind, and at this point, I have to wonder if one of us could manage to drown in the four-foot hot tub.
“Fine.” I pluck the swimming trunks out of her hands and glance at the size. They’re a little snug when I put them on, and when Beck sees me, her eyes widen, and her mouth falls open.
“What?” I demand.
“Well, I can sort of see the outline of your dick?”
“And you couldn’t keep a shirt on around me at the wedding, so now we’re even. Come on, let’s go.” I roll my eyes.
Pushing open the back door, each of us slinging a towel over one shoulder, Beck tries her best to open the top of the hot tub. Eventually, I help her, but she doesn’t notice my hand, so she declares that she’s Shera (whoever that is) and falls into the bubbling water with a splash.
It’s chilly today, the perfect temperature for this, so I follow her in and sink onto the ledge, the water covering me up to my collarbone. Beck is still going on and on about how strong she is, and she flexes her biceps to prove it before she leans in and kisses each one—they’re pretty impressive.
Beck giggles uproariously as she sits down beside me. “Or maybe She-Man? I dunno, but it feels great to laugh like this. I can’t remember the last time I felt this light. Must have been all that tickling.”
“Definitely not all the weed.” I raise my eyebrow.
“Maybe finishing it wasn’t the greatest idea we’ve ever had.” Beck tilts her head from side to side. “The whole world is moving.”
“That’s because you’re moving your head,” I point out, but she insists, and I don’t put up an argument. When she immediately starts singing the old-school bologna brand theme song of our youth, she misspells “Oscar” as “Ocsar,” and I jump in to correct her. She takes a break just to argue with me, so I join in and sing it her decidedly wrong way.
“New song!” Beck launches into REO Speedwagon’s “Keep on Loving You.” She stands up in the water and sings passionately into an invisible microphone, really shouting the lyrics out, though I’m confused over her song choice.
I fully expected a little “Shake It Off” by her lord and savior, Taylor Swift, but I don’t mind. I try singing along with her off-key voice, but she keeps holding the notes too long—it’s still adorable. When Beck’s not expecting it, I tickle her sides in her pink bikini and fight the urge to untie her top. This medicinal shit has lowered my inhibitions. Beck falls into my arms, giggling, and then curls up in my lap. Her giggles run dry, and she rests her face against my shoulder.
I’ve spent ten years wondering how she would feel in my arms like this, and I know this isn’t the right moment. Beck’shigh as a kite and grieving the loss of a long-term relationship, so I cradle her there and start to sing, “Shake It Off,” albeit reluctantly.
Beck’s face lights up. She stands back up and starts shaking her hips as she joins in. She’s never looked more beautiful than she does right now, in the fading daylight with rose-and-violet decorated skies behind her. The Rockies stand tall in the background as she sings. I want to do something stupid, like yank her into me and see how her lips taste, but that’s not what she needs right now.
Eventually, we both turn so pruney that we stumble out of the hot tub. The day has turned into night, the waning gibbous moon bright overhead, and we stop to look up in the backyard for a few minutes. Beck puts her hands up in the air and spins in the grass, perhaps worshiping the moon. I don’t ask her to qualify her behavior.
Her body shudders with shivers as she runs into the house, and when I follow her, I hear the shower running in the primary bathroom. My towel is soaked, so I tap on the door and ask if I can come grab a fresh towel.
“Of course,” Beck yells a little too loudly.
When I open the door, I don’t mean to look at her naked body behind the plain glass door, beneath the rain shower head. But damn myself, I do. Then, I stare a second too long, the sight of her stunning me into silence. Now my mind’s blank and the towel I came in here for is completely forgotten, replaced with the vision of her wet body glistening in the shower just feet away from mine.
She’s got her back to me, her round, tight ass on display for a moment before the shower’s steam conceals it, and I gulp, my dick hardening in these stupid, too-tight trunks. Shaking my head as if to clear it, I finally grab a towel and flee, closing the door behind me to give Beck some privacy—because apparently,I’m a pervy guy who can’t turn away from his best friend’s incredible ass.
I dress quickly, feeling stone-cold sober now. When I’m about to walk out the front door, Beck, clad only in a purple robe, calls out and asks me where I’m going. Water clings to her skin, and I long to lick the droplets away and taste her, and that’s why I need to go.
“Got a couple of things I still need to accomplish at home,” I lie.
“Oh.” Her face falls. “Okay. Well, thanks for the fun day. I really needed it.”
And I need to go home and take the coldest shower known to man.
