Three Stries

No sex? Was that a thing you could do after you sleep with someone?

I stared unbelievingly at Shane, unsure how I should move forward.

"Okay," I spoke slowly. "Just out of curiosity, what made you come to this conclusion?"

"Because I like you and I want things to work. Whatever we did before wasn't working. If we're going to do this, I want to do it right."

"And 'doing it right' means...no sex?" I spoke slowly, trying to under fully understand what was happening. He nodded with a cute little smile that made my insides muddy. "You like me so much that you don't want to have sex with me?" I looked at him suspiciously.

"Exactly! I'm glad we're on the same page," he chuckled, faking a little too much excitement.

"Sure, same page," I drawled. "Different books, but same page."

I was joking. Kind of.

He resumed pervious position; lying back in the water. His auburn hair floated freely around him. His eyes were closed and he had a relaxed smile on his face. He'd be a fabulous assassin. I could picture it clearly. Shane strolling into someone's home with a grenade in his hand. Casually pulling the pin with his teeth before spitting it off to the side like watermelon seeds. Tossing the grenade into the lap of the unsuspecting victim as if he were tossing beer or a soda to a friend, then walking off after wishing them a good day. The explosion behind him wouldn't phase him at all. Nope, he might adjust his hat from the blowback, other then that, he'd walk home and fall asleep as if he hadn't just caused mass destruction.

I might've been being a little dramatic but Shane had just said he didn't want to have sex with me. And he said it like he was telling me he wasn't going to eat my spaghetti squash casserole—and I made really good spaghetti squash casserole. I didn't know what to think. I didn't want drop the topic because my mind was brimming with thoughts and questions, but until I could collect them and sort them into neat little piles, I needed to keep my mouth shut.

I decided to let it go, for now. Instead, I looked around for the first time since Shane and I had hopped in the pool. The DONNAS, AARP, and Drew were splashing around while Aaron and Kurt stood back and watched, in horror, while their grandfather's behaved like teenagers. It was obvious they didn't view their older counterparts as anything other than—their older counterparts. I thought the older men were a hoot, but they weren't my grandparents. My grandparents were old and gross. Them, sex? Never. I guess there was a part of me that understood the psychological warfare they were experiencing.

While Aaron and Kurt stood on the sideline with horror-stricken faces, I tried not to think about sex while lazily pushing Shane around the pool.

Shane looked good, felt good, and I enjoyed having a reason to touch his butt and thighs without him freaking out. I was respectful, of course, knowing his history and all. There wasn't a fiber in me that wanted to make the same mistake again, but that didn't stop me from enjoying the position.

I stared at his pink shorts and smiled. I was sure there was a rule,

somewhere

, that said redheads don't wear pink and, for that reason alone, I loved that he wore pink. I also loved that they were short, especially on his long, muscular legs. Saying they were "

mid-thigh

" was being generous, not that I was complaining.

I loved his details: his perfect man's nose, which was solid and masculine, yet sleek with soft lines; and his perfectly average chest hair that led to a fine dusting of belly hair, which I loved to rub with my fingers.

Speaking of fingers, he had great hands. I have long, lanky fingers while Shane's were larger and thicker. It was obvious he was a recovering nail biter—they just had "

that look

." He wore his nails short and semi manicured. He'd still have benefited greatly from a nice spa day, not that he'd ever do it, regardless, he had nice hands.

I was lost in his details while my hands roamed from his lower back, across his butt, and down his thigh before repeating the same pattern, over and over, when he broke me from my study.

"What was three?" He was still floating with his eyes closed so he couldn't see the confused look on my face. Three? He must've sensed it or maybe it was the lack of response that tipped him off. "You said three things. Nick and Nelly, my lady shorts, and?"

I felt his legs squeeze my hips, like a boa constrictor, as he used my body as leverage to lift his upper half out of the water until he was facing me. He ran his hands through his wet hair while I happily supported his weight by cupping his booty. The only time I'd be able to carry that Yeti was with the magic of buoyancy, while waist deep in a pool.

I thought back to the conversation and came up empty.

"I honestly don't remember. You threw me with the no sex thing."

He looked at me and I could tell he was wondering if I was okay with it or not. It was a legitimate question. How did I feel? I wasn't sure. I wanted to have sex with him—to feel that connection. Plus, sex with him was just plain amazing. Though it would likely only be a few weeks, the thought that he'd forego sex in an attempt to give our relationship a real shot was...

fucking sexy

, which made me want to have sex with him even more.

"We're boyfriends, though, right? Just, taking it slow?" I asked.

He nodded with a happy smile, although it was a borderline smirk, I didn't care. I smiled and slowly nodded—

yeah, it's cool. My boyfriend respected me so much, we weren't going to touch penises for a while

. It was going to be a tough couple of weeks, but that's the price you pay for love.

Love

. The word almost made me cringe. Not the word itself, but the fact I'd gone all "Nicholas Sparks" and confessed my love during post breakup sex, or was it pre-make up sex? It wasn't that I'd regretted it, I just doubted I actually had any clue what love was.

Even if I did love him, was that the appropriate time to say it?

Probably not

. He did say it back, so there was that. We hadn't talked about it since, so there was also that. I didn't have any plans to bring it up—

hell no

—because I was okay with letting it lay by the wayside for a bit. It was something that needed to marinate a bit more. If he wanted to bring it up, then sure, lets talk about it, however, I was in no rush.

I wondered if he loved me. I didn't have a preference one way or another, although I'd hoped he was leaning toward that direction. He was, after all, giving up sex in lieu of a healthy relationship. If that wasn't love, it was damn close. My '

to be, not to be'

inner love monologue was interrupted when Kurt announced that dinner was ready.

Shane tried to disengage himself, but I held firm. I wasn't dumb, I knew it was going to be a long time before I had him wrapped around me again so I wasn't in any hurry to let go.

"Just let me get us to the stairs," I pleaded.

Shane rolled his eyes, but allowed me to float him toward the shallow end. It was a gradual incline so, with each step I took, the water level became shallower. Again, he tried to let go when I was navel deep, but I wouldn't let him go. I wondered if I was strong enough to actually walk him out of the water, but I doubted it. I was strong, but not

that

strong.

"I'm going to carry you out," I teased as I tightened my grip on his thighs.

He was getting heavier with each step as the ratio of Shave vs. buoyancy changed. We were at that awkward stage where he was almost completely out of the water, but the water did the scientific, gravitational cling thing where the weight suddenly

doubles

as the water tries to suck you back down. Shane probably weighed two hundred forty pounds, but as I tried to take that last step—the one between him slightly in the water and totally out—he felt like a solid

four-hundred

pounds.

He felt my knees quake under the weighted pressure and laughed.

"Are you sure you've got this?"

I groaned as I tried to keep him attached to my waist while water cascaded off of us.

"Yeah, but it'd help if you'd

try

a little harder to stay on."

Shane's thighs tightened around my body, but it was too late—he'd slipped and was too low on my hips. I found myself starting to waddle as my stance became wider in an attempt to stop him from sliding off. I was leaning forward slightly as Shane clung to me like a koala bear, although, he looked more like a

grizzly bear

on a

baby pine tree

. I felt Shane's chest vibrating with laughter as I tried my hardest to inch forward.

"Give up. You'll never make it," he laughed.

At that point, he was probably working harder to not fall of me than I was to move us out of the water. My response was interrupted by poolside cheers and whistles of encouragement.

"

You can do it, Gordy

!

Move that brickhouse

!

Lift with your legs. You've got this

!"

"You're too low!" I cried. My fingers were digging into his ass as I tried to hold him up.

I couldn't help but laugh and I knew we looked ridiculous, but I wasn't willing to end it, yet. Shane stared at me, his hair was slicked back, and his brown eyes laced with laughter. Seeing him happy and laughing did nothing to alleviate my own laughter.

"I need you higher, on my waist. I'm going to bounce you up like a baby, but I need your help. On the count of three, got it? One—"

Shane slipped down a little more. I was bent almost completely forward with his back hovering over the water, his ass was barely propped on my knees, my fingers losing traction as they barely had a grip behind his knees.

"Two—"

He was laughing so hard the grip around my neck loosened. I couldn't recall

ever

seeing Shane so carefree and I felt my heart quicken at the sight. The sideline continued cheering as I watched Shane drop his head back, which caused the tips of his shaggy hair to float in the water.

"No, no, no! I can't. I'm not ready," he laughed.

"Three!"

I tried to hike him up, but he was nothing more than a two hundred forty-pound bag of dead weight. It was like trying to pick up a tree stump that was still rooted in the ground. Everything went to hell and we both fell into the water; me on top of Shane. When we came up for air, we were both laughing hysterically while the sideline continued to cheer.

"Let me show you how it's done."

The water level wasn't deep—less than three feet. Shane squatted while he wrapped my legs around his waist. Before I had a chance to do anything, he'd effortlessly lifted me out of the water and walked us toward the ladder. Once we got there, he told me to hold on to him. At that point he completely let go of me, it was my arms and legs holding us together as he grabbed the metal rail and lifted us out of the pool. The crowd was going crazy at his brute strength and manliness. I was going crazy, too, for the same reasons

and more

.

To show off a little more, he carried me to, then through, the buffet line. It was awkward, but we managed. I kept a tight grip on him with my legs and arms while he prepared one giant plate of food for us to share.

I tried to crawl off of him when he sat on the deck chair, but he bumped his legs up, the way you do when a child is on your lap, which knocked me back. At first, I thought it was a fluke so I tried again, and he bumped his legs, again. I looked at him to see what was up, but he was talking to Aaron.

He might've been in deep conversation, but I didn't miss the smirk on his face or the look in his eyes that said he was watching me from his peripheral vision. When I tried to get up a third time, he grabbed the waistband of my swim shorts and held me on his lap. At least, that time, he acknowledged the situation with a wink so I stayed.

Oliver stood and raised his drink. "I want to make a toast. To old friends!" I looked around at my friends, and also to the AARP, who were genuinely happy to be there. "To new friends, fresh starts, and new beginnings!" I looked at Kurt, Aaron, and Drew and smiled. I flushed when I felt Shane's hand squeeze my waist with acknowledgement. I also saw a brief exchange, not only between Mickey and Sammy, but also Drew and Nick. No doubt, our group was full of strange couplings, which included Shane and myself. He wasn't my typical type and I knew,

for a fact

, I wasn't his. That, plus all our drama.

As we all ate, Shane and I shared the giant plate of food as I sat awkwardly higher than everyone else, but no one cared. I was filled with something akin to pure happiness as I watched my friends eat, drink, and laugh.

Nelly and Drew were teasing each other while Shane's fingers rubbed lazy circles on my hips.

It was heaven

. Not only the touching, but the whole scene. I smiled, brought the drink to my lips, and frowned when there was nothing there. I looked at Shane's drink and realized his was also low so I reached for his glass and asked if he wanted a refill. He nodded.

After fixing myself a cran-vodka, I reached into the fridge for a fresh beer for my beau. I smiled and chewed my lip. Shane was my beau and, for the first time, I had a very good feeling about it. We both had a lot of work ahead of us, but things felt, calmer.

"Are you ready to

stop avoiding

us

?"

I was startled by the sound of Thomas' voice. I almost dropped the beer as I bit my lip as I jumped in surprise

.

I rubbed my swollen lip with my tongue as I pressed the cold beer bottle to my wounded flesh.

"I'm not avoiding you," I lied.

The disbelief was clear on the faces of both Thomas and Jack, in fact, they appeared to be more than a little

unimpressed

by my fib. They shared a few murmurs and side glances of annoyance, which made me nervous. Okay, maybe I had been avoiding them,

a little

.

I didn't have the courage to face them after the reunion. It wasn't that I thought they'd hate me, I knew they wouldn't, but I'd told them every little detail about what had happened between Shane and me—the hate he spewed, the one-night stand, all of the sex and pervy shit, how much I liked him, and how much I hated him—only to find out he's Thomas' grandson.

DAKS are their grandsons and nephew. It was so embarrassing. They might not have hated me, but the love of family, especially a close-knit family such as theirs, far outweighed

whatever

it was

that our friendship contained. Especially if they'd known just how shitty I was to Shane.

"So, you just disappeared because it seemed like a good idea?"

I turned to face them as I licked the dribble of metallic from my lip wound before replacing the cold beverage against my tender, pulsing skin. They were waiting for my response and I knew, by the look on their faces, anything less than the truth wasn't going to be taken lightly.

"Shane is your grandson."

Thomas looked at me like,

duh

.

"It's all so embarrassing and complicated. After everything that had gone down between Shane and me, I couldn't hang out with you guys. Not only was I embarrassed, and Lord knows I was. You're Shane's family. That's

weird.

And I can't go crying and complaining to you about your own flesh and blood."

"We're not petty. We can see when our own is in the wrong."

"But he wasn't the only one. I definitely gave Shane a run for his money when it came to that pissing contest. I was extremely disrespectful, and hurtful, in my own right. If you knew—"

Thomas had walked to me and pulled me into a powerful embrace.

"So, what you're saying is, we not only have to kick

their asses

, but

yours too

?"

He pushed me back and when I looked at him, he was smiling. He glanced at Jack and shook his head.

"What the hell is wrong with this generation?"

"It's the ripped jeans. When people can't have enough sense to buy a pair of solid blue jeans, how can we expect them to make solid life choices? Holes in their jeans equals holes in their common sense." Jack winked when I rolled my eyes at his stereotypical old man response.

"Ah, yes. Kids these days with their baggy jeans. No respect, I tell you. They wouldn't know good decisions if it hit them in their balls," I mocked.

They both chuckled and nodded their heads with agreement as if I'd been totally serious. I didn't want to bring up the fact that I was ninety-nine percent sure their friend was fucking someone younger than their grandsons. I wouldn't called that a bad decision, but I doubted it would've been considered a sound choice, either.

"Are you going to fill us in on the details?"

I pouted. I didn't want to, but

somehow

, for a couple of old men, their demeanor was surprisingly demanding. Much to my own regret, I started to sing like a songbird.

If I'd expected any sort of sympathy or compassion, I was sorely misled. There were no signs of the obligatory "

it's okay

" responses that I'd received from the rest of the DONNAS. No, all I received was looks of disappointment that was so intense, I felt like a puppy trying not to pee itself from shame. All deserved, of course.

"Maybe you're perfect for Shane after all. I can see the Christmas card now (he read the invisible headline on his hand), 'Happy holidays. Yours truly, two dumbasses'," Thomas commented.

He dropped his hand and rolled his eyes as Jack gently pushed him off to the side and stepped forward.

Jack. The psychologist. Terrifying

!

"Do you

really

think, after everything you guys have been through, you can make this work?"

"Yeah, I

really

do."

"What makes this time different?"

Uh, uh.

I wasn't sure telling him we'd had a good talk and things

felt

different was an acceptable answer. It was true, but if someone else had tried to feed me that line, I would've scooped the bullshit up and shoved it back into their mouths.

"Well, I, uh," I mumbled. "This time, I'm aware of my faults. I'm not trying to blame Shane for everything, including my issues. I can't speak for Shane, but

I know

he knows where he falls short, and he's working on that. I know things won't be perfect. I can

almost

promise you that we'll make a mess of everything, but I think, under the mountain of our fuck ups, there's something there. We're going to take it slow. We both have stuff we need to work out as individuals,

and as a couple

, but I think we can do it.

I want to do it

!"

Jack watched me carefully, and after I was done, he took a minute to absorb my words before he nodded.

"Okay. You'll come to the park,

twice a month

, and we'll chat—just you and I—and bring coffee."

"Therapy?" I asked with wide eyes.

His shrug was sign language for, 'yeah, and

what the fuck are you going to do about it?

'

"I think you could use a sound person to talk to in order to help sort the deep-rooted trust issues you have stemming from adolescence. And, if you want things to work on with Shane. You're going to need all of the tools I can give you."

"How do you like your coffee?" I smiled brightly, yet full of terror.

*** *** *** ***

AARP had politely instructed us to step inside the house so they could have a private conversation with their kin. We stood and watched DAKS as they stood in a row with their heads hung low while AARP scolded them.

"What do you think they're saying?" Nick asked, not expecting an answer.

As it turned out, I wasn't the only one who'd been avoiding them. The older men had a way of not saying much, but their delivery was

powerfully terrifying

. If the look of obedience that each of the younger men held was any indication, they felt it, too.