Hot Springs Horror #NaNoWriMo2020

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When I returned to the springs, heaving boat-loads of White Claws in all kinds of crazy flavors, the girls were in their own worlds. Jenny was swaying to and fro to some unheard beat, her head tipped back, her mouth partly open as if to gather snowflakes falling from the sky. I imagined her with a crown of flowers on her curls, a joint in one hand, a can of her fancy ale in the other.

Millie swirled about, splashing all over the place, her energy contagious and her smile intoxicating. She continued to spill her current beverage into the water, and dunked her head below the surface before shooting up and chugging the alcohol. Whenever she wasn't moving, she went on and on about a date she had planned—with a girl.

"It would be my first date with a chick," said Millie, reaching for one of the fresh cans of booze I'd brought over.

I slipped into the steamy substance and breathed in the vapors, letting my ass sink into the muddy bank once more. "Are you nervous?" I was semi-lucid, compared to her; she'd been blurting out how drunk she already was, which made Jenny and I chortle—this was a normal occurrence with Millie.

"Not so much about the date part," she swigged down a few large gulps of a mango White Claw, "but the sex, yes, that I'm nervous about."

Jenny sighed, stopping her oscillations to grab another beverage from atop the platform. "So you've never," she chose a lime flavor, "done it with a girl?"

I watched them both, so jealous of their ease with their sexuality. I was one hundred percent straight—or so I'd convinced myself, as the idea of being naked in front of another woman petrified me. Having sex with a man sufficed for me, though most days even that was an issue.

"No, I haven't." Millie tripped over something at the bottom of the spring and giggled as she emptied part of her drink into the water. "Oops, I'm too drunk to move around."

Jenny cackled, and I sipped on my watermelon White Claw. "Any pointers for her, Jenny? Since you're basically an expert?"

We'd both heard stories of Jenny's exploits. Though I had, technically, slept with more people than either of my friends, she had the most daunting and explorative adventures. She also had some of the best anecdotes and had come up with most creative places to have sex. I was so vanilla in comparison, and more so now that I didn't even want to think about sex.

With a toothy grin, she sat up straight, exposing her nipples to the late evening air. I averted my eyes; not because I was disgusted, but because I wasn't drunk enough to catch peeks of my friends in their nudity yet.

"Nah, she'll do fine." Her face suddenly turned serious—one of her signature traits—as she gawked at Millie. "She's a good kisser, and I think she'll manage down there."

"Whoa," I almost spat out my drink, "you two kissed? When? Where the fuck was I?"

Both giggled, though Jenny's stern expression didn't fade. "You were... busy in your relationship, Rose. We did a lot of crazy shit with our other friends, but we never invited you because... well... him."

Him was Quentin. My judgmental, snooty, insulting, manipulative ex-boyfriend who kept me hostage for six years. I'd loved him at first, until his true colors showed, and it was too late for me to escape. I was in too deep, unable to believe I could live without him... until he'd insulted me one time too many and forced my hand.

"Yeah..." I winced and peeked at my blurry reflection in the water. "He definitely made me miss out on a lot of fun."

"But it wasn't your thing, anyway," said Millie, flurrying over to snatch yet another can of booze. "You're... not into the sort of stupid stuff we do. And that's fine!" She opened her beverage, swallowed some of it, then spat it out. "Ew, I don't like this one!"