1.2 The Chronicles of Us - Rewound & Retold

Chapter thrity-two

We head back to the bonfire. Unfortunately, I'm still only wearing my soaked and cum-stained boxers. I feel like an absolute douche walking around without clothes, but fuck it. Wet jeans rank high on my list of things I hate. Right above flip-flops.

That dry/wet-fuck we did was nice—obviously—but what happened before really makes my chest glow. I'm talking about the girlfriend thing. True, the word still makes my skin itch, yet I feel sorta proud. Like I'm finally beginning to figure shit out. Maybe I'm just a slow learner.

I peek at Ellie and squeeze her fingers between mine. She has her lips pressed together as if she's trying to contain a mega smile. It's not really working. The corners of her mouth are curved into her cheeks. It's damn cute.

This girl is with me.

Exclusively, with me.

What a fantastic gift.

Frank walks up to us. "Hey, lovebirds, where have you been?"

Time for everyone to know that Ellie and I are together for realsies. Per usual, I go about it the wrong way and shout, "Goddammit! Can't I have a private moment with my girlfriend without you people being on my case."

Some weird and amused glances are thrown our way. Whatever. I made it clear. The mighty Tex has fallen.

Frank gives me a pat on the back, smiling genuinely. "Well done, dude. Didn't think you had it in you."

I don't know why I'm such an awkward fucker, but I am. Having a girlfriend is a good thing, a normal thing. At the same time, I feel terribly exposed. Like I cracked my chest open and allowed them all a peek at my fucked up heart.

"Yeah ... I mean, can't run from it forever, right?" I laugh, trying to come across as unaffected. I'm not pulling it off, though. I sound like an angsty teenager.

Charlotte tows Ellie away to, undoubtably, question her about us. Fine with me. I don't wanna be part of their squealing. Now that she's occupied, I can step away for a moment.

"I'm gonna go change," I say to Frank. "Be right back."

"Finally." He snickers, shoulders shaking. "Your tiny package is making me sad. I might throw you fundraiser to get you an enlargement."

I scowl heavily. "Fuck you. My package is huge."

When Frank laughs and says something that sounds a lot like 'shrimp-dick', I grab my dry boxers and walk away. I know he's just fucking with me, but my member is not deserving of being the punchline of his dumb jokes.

After thirty or so steps, I halt and look around. Another thing I hate about the beach, there are no bushes to hind behind. To change clothes, of course. Not to be a creep.

Fuck it.

I drop my boxers and hope they're all watching the actual full moon instead of my pale ass. Just when I pull my jeans up, I hear a soft chuckle. It's not Ellie. If it were her, my dick would've twitched. He's like an antenna, always tuned in on her frequency.

I turn a quarter and jump a little. A spiteful banshee smirks at me, arms crossed and brow sky-high. "Jesus Christ! You scared the shit outta me. Can't you see I'm dressing myself. Go away."

Vicky steps closer, circling me like a damn vulture. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

Uhg.

"And never will again."

"Are you sure about that? You used to like aaall of this." She moves her hands up her waist and then cups her tits, pushing them together.

Funny, not a single beat in the downstairs department. Objectively speaking, she has nice tits—real and round—but I've got no desire to touch them. In fact, looking at them makes me feel uncomfortable.