At a glance I can see that the trash bags are quite high up on a shelf in the shack. I’m short, so asking Mr. Smiley dimples guy to help me get one would be the perfect excuse to start a conversation. A conversation that could lead to a bit of fun maybe, if I play my cards right. I can usually get a kiss from any guy I want, to be completely honest there usually isn’t much conversation needed. Perhaps hooking up in a shack at a volunteering event is just what I need to make this weekend a little bit more interesting.
“Hi, excuse me”, I say, while lightly touching his arm. As I suspected, he seems strong, even though he has a lean build I can clearly feel the muscles.
He looks at me and flashes those dimples, a bit shyly it seems. Figures, I usually do have that effect on people. I like that I have that effect on people. Being pretty makes some things easier, I admit.
“Yes?”, he says.
“Could you get me a new bag as well? I was actually waiting for someone to come help me, since they’re so high up.”, I say as I look up at him from under my eyelashes. I give him a coy smile. It always works. Guys love an excuse to help a pretty girl, especially a pretty girl with a pretty smile. And no surprise, I can see him blush a bit as he quickly goes to get me a bag, but almost trips over his own feet in his hurry. I almost laugh out loud, but I restrain myself. Instead I try to hide a smirk.
While he has his back turned I close the door to the shack. Now it’s just me and him here, wouldn’t want anyone else bursting in. He hands me the bag and I thank him, while I deliberately touch his hands. His hands are warm, but not sweaty. They’re quite big. I like that.
“So, what’s your name?”, I ask him, “I’m Audrey”.
“Wyatt, my name’s Wyatt”, he says a bit awkwardly.
“So, Wyatt…are you in a hurry to get back or would you wanna take a break with me?”, I look him right in the eyes when I ask him, he blushes and can’t quite keep eye contact with me. I smile.
“A break?”, he clears his throat, “A break would be nice, yeah”.
I don’t waste any time, I lock the door for privacy and drop the trash bag he gave me on the floor. He looks a bit shocked that I’m being so bold, and as I walk up to him and put my hands on his forearms, he gulps. I look him in the eyes.
“Can I kiss you?”, I ask. Consent is sexy and just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can go around kissing guys without asking, if the roles were reversed and a guy locked me in a shed and kissed me without asking it would be scary.
“Yes”, Wyatt breathes out. We are so close. I slowly get closer, looking at his eyes and then at his lips. My hands move up along his arms to his shoulders, I’m almost on my tiptoes. Short girl problems.
Eyes closed, we finally kiss. The kiss deepens. My hands are in his hair, he’s a good kisser. I don’t think he knew what to do with his hands at first, but now he puts them on my waist, on the small of my back. We are a tangle of arms moving all over each other. We are so close, bodies touching, he holds me tight. We move a few steps back towards the shelf in our frenzy of kissing and his back is now against it.
My mind goes blank. Usually hooking up is fun and exciting, sure, but I haven’t felt like this before. It’s like we fit so well together and it feels so right. I don’t know how much time passes, but eventually someone tries to open the door only to discover that it’s locked. We quickly fix our clothes and smooth down our hair, still looking a bit disheveled, as one does after hooking up.
I pick up the bag I dropped on the floor earlier and open the door, hurriedly walking out with my head turned, hiding behind my hair, so that the person on the other side won’t see my face. I suspect I’ve been away for too long and that my dad won’t be happy about it, but I can’t find it in me to care. I make my way to my car, screw the lecture I know I’ll get from my dad, I can’t be in any pictures looking the way I look anyway. The mirror in my car confirms it, I look exactly like someone who just made out in a shack on a beach, tousled hair and lips about to be swollen from kissing.
To minimize the damage I shoot my dad a text saying I’m feeling a bit under the weather and that I think I’m going to head home to get some rest. It’s a bullshit excuse and I know he won’t believe me, but it’s worth a try. Wyatt’s kiss still lingers in my mind as I drive home, I absentmindedly touch my lips. Too bad I probably won’t see him again, but oh well, I’ll find better guys to kiss anyway, I think to myself. But in the back of my mind, I’m not quite sure if I will…