Surviving Us (18 page)

AS PROMISED, A COUPLE
of hours later, a small truck stops outside the cottage and Jerry from down at the beach, dressed in a big yellow poncho, comes jogging up onto the deck carting a cooler with a large brown paper bag on top of it.

“Hey, you two,” he addresses us with a polite smile. “Sorry to bother, but I’ve brought you some food and other stuff to get through the next day or so. Hopefully you won’t need most of it, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

His arrival revitalizes the panic and anxiety that had somewhat subsided thanks to Davis’ magical hands and mouth. I jump up out of the hammock we’re lying in, watching the never-ending downpour, hopeful he’ll also have an update on what’s going on.

“Is there any news on the storm?” I inquire, walking over to the stuff he’s sat down, with Davis fast on my heels. “When should we expect the worst?”

“I’m not sure, Miss Bristol,” he replies. “I’ve been busy getting these kits together with the rest of the staff, so I haven’t gotten a chance to get an update from earlier.”

I frown, not at him, just in general. “Okay, thank you for dropping all this by. I hope you have somewhere to stay safe.”

He nods at me. “I’ve got another set of goods to get from the truck. We packed them for each room, and since you’re here, I’ll leave yours too, unless you want me to take it over to your place.”

“Here is fine,” Davis pipes up, making the decision for me that I’ll be staying with him throughout the storm. “I’ll help you grab it.”

“No need for you to get wet, man,” he disputes. “I’ll be right back.”

Jerry leaves after bringing the second set of supplies, and Davis and I move inside the cottage to go through the food and supplies they’ve left and to make some lunch. Each cooler contains six bottles of water, four containers of juices, storage bags with assorted cold cuts and cheeses, and a variety of pre-cut fresh fruit. Inside the sacks is a flashlight, two extra packs of batteries, a deck of cards, a first aid kit, a small loaf of bread, and a bottle of wine. We both laugh as we pull out the final item from the collection of materials.
The Ti Kaye employees are obviously on the same page we are.

“Okay, first thing’s first,” he announces matter-of-factly. “We need to eat.”

“I won’t argue with you one bit,” I say, grabbing the bread and lunchmeat.

Together, we each build ourselves a ham and cheese sandwich with a little bit of fruit on the side. Less than five minutes later, we’ve both inhaled every last crumb of the sandwiches, our stomachs grateful to finally be fed. Once we’re finished, I put away everything we don’t use except the flashlights and batteries, which I leave out for easy access.

Without a television or internet in the rooms, and not having the luxury of the beach or other activities, Davis and I are left sitting on his bed, staring at each other as we figure out how to pass the time. Typically, we don’t have any problems talking to each other. From the time we first met, conversation between us has never been tense or awkward, even when he was being a dick. But now, with my worries and doubts about what’s going to happen with the storm, I suddenly feel insecure and vulnerable.

“You want to play some cards?” he suggests. “I can teach you how to play poker.”

“Absolutely!” I jump at the proposition, mostly to give myself something else to focus on, but partly to teach
him
how to play poker. Grabbing one of the decks from a bag, I pull the cards out of the box and begin to expertly shuffle them. “I’m assuming you want to play Texas Hold ‘Em, but I can deal Stud or Omaha too if you like?”

He chuckles at my enthusiasm. “Why do I have a feeling I’m about to get schooled?” Standing up, he walks over to open one of the bottles of wine. “Let me guess. You’re an avid sports fan
and
a world-renowned poker player,” he jokes, pouring the dark ruby liquid in two glasses, then handing me one.

I grin like the Cheshire cat and take a drink of the fruity wine, which is better-tasting than I expect. I may go back home an alcoholic after this trip. “Not exactly world-renowned, but I frequent a few home games around campus.”

“Of course you do,” he teases as he sits down across from me, “because you’re like a walking Little Miss ESPN—sports analyst, poker player . . . I bet next you’re gonna tell me you won gold in the X-games before too.”

“Where do you think I got my name from?” I ask with a sassy smirk. “ESPN’s main headquarters is located
in
Bristol, Connecticut. I was born to be their spokesperson.”

Bending forward, he steals a quick kiss from my lips. “I hope you make it there one day, Trouble. They wouldn’t know how lucky they were if you did.”

I push him away from me and shake my head laughing. “I’ll be sure to let them know you give your seal of approval, but stop trying to butter me up so I take it easy on you.” Tapping the top of the cards, I glance around. “Now what are we playing for?”

He waggles his eyebrows as his gaze sweeps over my body, still dressed only in my bikini from earlier. “Seeing we don’t have anything else, I guess we’ll have to play strip poker.”

“That’s totally not fair,” I contend. “I only have on a swimsuit.”

“I only have on two items of clothing too,” he points at his shorts and boxers. “Plus, if you’re as good as you think you are, it shouldn’t be an issue.”

With an exaggerated roll of my eyes, I concede, knowing damn well where this is going to end . . . not that I mind much. The thing with playing heads-up poker, especially if you’re not playing for real money, is you’re only as good as the cards you’re dealt, and unfortunately for me, the first two hands I deal are flat out terrible. With no more articles of clothing to lose, the card game is over as quickly as it starts, but then the real fun begins.

Davis strips out of his clothes in two seconds flat and has me pinned against the mattress, his mouth and hands seemingly touching every part of me at once. For the next couple of hours, we break-in every piece of furniture and all four walls of his cottage, alternating between teasing each other and flat-out fucking.

I’ve never experienced anything so physically demanding yet gratifying before in my life. He bends and moves me into positions I didn’t even know existed, but sure as hell won’t ever forget. At one point, we stop briefly to grab a quick snack and drink—fuel for the next rounds—but even that somehow turns into an erotic act involving us eating fruit off of each other’s body. I don’t think I’ll ever look at a pineapple ring the same way again . . . my attempt to eat it off the tip of his cock ended in the best, sweetest, most juicy blowjob in the history of the world. I’m sure of it.

Somehow, we end up back in the bed, and after a little while of the well-known face-down-ass-up position, our sticky, sweaty bodies detonate together in a final passionate explosion before we both collapse out of sheer exhaustion. The last thing I remember before slipping away into a much needed sleep is listening to our labored breathing mixed with the sound of steady rain beating down outside.

Sitting and waiting in the bathtub

Alone

So very alone

“MOMMY!!! DADDY!!!”

Wind

Rain

Wind

Everything is so noisy, I can’t even hear my own screams

I think my ears are going to bust

Loud

Loud

Louder

I cry into my knees, tighten my arms around my head

Hard

Hard

Harder

The roof is gone, all at once

Rain falls all around me

I hold on to the side of the tub

Holding

Crying

Praying

Then it all stops

Suddenly

No rain

No wind

Just dark and quiet

Lying and waiting in the bathtub

Alone

So very alone

My entire body shakes with fear as I jolt awake, gasping for air.
Breathe, Bristol, breathe.
I try to look around the room, but everything is pitch black, and loud . . . so very loud. The rain pummels the windows and roof as the wind howls a low, malicious warning.

I have no idea what time it is, and I’m too afraid to get out of bed to look. Davis is asleep next to me; I can feel his leg resting against mine. I don’t want to wake him up, but I don’t want to be alone.

They said the storm wouldn’t be that bad, but it sounds so much worse than bad. Chills run up my spine as I curl into a ball, trying to stop the shivering. But I can’t. I’m freezing and I’m sweating. My heart hammers out a cry of desperation that only my ears can hear. I’ve always thought maybe I deserve to die, but now I know I’m not ready.

Not ready at all.

I’M NOT QUITE SURE
if it’s the trembling bed, the sound of muffled sobs, or the squall-like conditions outside that wake me from my near-comatose state, but regardless, I shoot straight up in the bed, not even having remembered falling asleep, innately
knowing
Bristol needs me. There’s not a sliver of light in the room, so it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust, but once they do, I find her at the corner of the bed, naked and huddled up in a ball with her arms squeezing tightly around her knees.

“Bristol, baby,” I whisper softly, careful not to startle her as I crawl over to where she is. “I’m right here. You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

I don’t wait for her to even acknowledge me, much less give me permission to touch her. Nope, I scoop her right up into my arms and lift her into my lap, holding her small frame snugly against my chest. Stroking her long, messy hair, I rock her back and forth much like a parent soothing a child would, praying my presence does something to ease her distress.