Chocoholics: Love And Lists Part 12

s.h.i.+t. He already knows. Time to distract him.

"Hey there, handsome. I could use a little help pumping myself back up," I tell him in my best Marilyn Monroe voice.

Gavin looks at me quizzically. "Are you getting sick? You're voice sounds funny."

f.u.c.king Rocco.

Clearing my throat, I turn away from him and walk up to the front tire. "I don't know what happened. I was driving home when all of a sudden I had a hard time steering. My car was swerving all over the place. I was so scared."

Gavin glances down at the tire, then back up at me and doesn't say a word.

Son of a b.i.t.c.h! Do cars lose control when they get a flat tire?? I should have googled it.

"Aww, you're okay now. It's totally normal. Cars always do that with a flat tire," Gavin tells me.

Oh thank G.o.d.

"So, do you want a lift home or something?" he asks.

"Uh, I kind of thought you could just change the tire," I tell him.

Gavin nods his head. "Right, right. Change the tire. I can totally do that."

He turns and walks around me, opening up the door to the backseat and sticking his head in.

"What are you doing?"

Pulling his head back out, he turns and looks at me. "Changing the tire."

"I think the stuff's in the trunk," I tell him in confusion.

He laughs awkwardly and slams the door closed. "Oh, yeah. I totally knew that. I was just checking to make sure you didn't do any damage ... to the ... backseat and stuff."

While he quickly walks to the trunk, I reach in through the driver's side window and hit the trunk release b.u.t.ton. Moving to the back of the car, I see him standing there just staring into the trunk.

"Everything is under that floor mat," I tell him, pointing to the middle of the trunk.

"I know. I was just ... um ... a.s.sessing the situation. Thinking about my plan of attack," he replies, reaching into the trunk and flipping back the mat.

I watch as he leans in and grabs the tire iron, flipping it up in the air casually as he turns and smiles at me. He reaches his arm out to catch it as it comes back down, but instead of catching it, he smacks his hand against it and the thing goes flying out into the middle of the road. His smile falls and he races over to quickly pick it up.

With his head down and the tire iron clutched tightly to his chest, he walks right by me and up to the tire. I'm pretty sure he's trying to look cool, and I am not about to call him out on it since I stuck a f.u.c.king butcher knife into my tire to get him here.

Squatting down on his knees next to the tire, he attaches one end of the iron to a nut and starts to turn it.

"Um, you need to jack the car up first," I remind him.

"I know that. I always loosen the screws first."

"They're called lug nuts."

"Well, where I come from, we call them screws."

"We both come from Ohio. I'm pretty sure they call them lug nuts everywhere," I say with a laugh.

"Are you trying to tell me how to change a tire? I know how to change a tire," he complains with a huff, grunting as he puts all of his muscle into trying to loosen the nut.

Oh my G.o.d. He doesn't know how to change a tire.

"You don't know how to change a tire," I mutter.

s.h.i.+t! Rocco is going to kill me. This is so not going to make Gavin feel like a man. I need to shut the f.u.c.k up.

Gavin drops the tire iron to the ground with a clang and stands up, stalking over to me.

"I totally know how to change a tire," he argues, as we stand toe-to-toe.

"Fine. What's the part on the tire where the air goes?" I question.

He purses his lips and stares down at me. "It's an air-tube-put-inner-thing."

It's kind of cute that he's trying to act like he knows what he's talking about. But it's also a little irritating. I have a flat tire and he was supposed to be the big man and fix it for me so he could feel better about what happened the other night. My dad taught me when I was five how to change a tire.

"Actually, it's a valve stem," I tell him with a smile.

"Whatever! It has nothing to do with changing the actual tire so who cares?!" he complains.

"I can't believe you don't know how to change a tire. You're a guy and you have a p.e.n.i.s. You should have been born knowing how to change a tire!"

Gavin puts his hands on his hips and glares at me. "Yeah, well you're a girl and you have a v.a.g.i.n.a. Does that mean you can waltz over to that field over there, squat down, and pop out a baby?"

The way we're arguing reminds me of when we were little. We haven't done this in a long time. It always p.i.s.sed me off when I was young. Now it turns me on. Gavin is so hot standing here in front of me on the side of a deserted road. My eyes move away from his, and I find myself staring at his lips.

I open my mouth to fire off a smart-a.s.s reply to his v.a.g.i.n.a comment when I'm suddenly pulled up against him and his mouth crashes down to mine.

Maybe this whole flat tire thing actually worked.

Gavin ends the kiss before I'm ready for it to be finished and pulls away from me. He opens up the back seat of the car and jerks his head. "Get in."

I don't even hesitate. I have no idea why I'm getting in the back seat of my car, and I don't care as long as it involves more kissing. Quickly crawling into the car, I turn around to find Gavin getting in beside me. I grab onto the front of his s.h.i.+rt as he slams the door closed behind him and pull him against me, our mouths colliding so hard that our teeth clank together.

"Ouch!"

G.o.d dammit! Once again I'm putting him in pain. At least it wasn't his p.e.n.i.s this time.

Moving back slowly this time, I press my lips to his. His tongue eases its way inside my mouth, and I can't stop the groan when I feel it slide against my own. One of his arms wraps around my waist and he slides my b.u.t.t across the seat, leaning his body against mine to get me to lie back. All of this happens really quickly, though, and my head smacks against the window.

"f.u.c.king h.e.l.l!" I shout, reaching up to rub the back of my head.

"s.h.i.+t! I'm sorry, are you okay?" he asks in a panic.

"I'm fine. Totally fine," I rea.s.sure him. I don't care if I have a head wound that is spraying blood all over the interior of my car; we aren't stopping.

Scooting myself lower onto the seat this time, Gavin turns his body and moves between my legs, b.u.mping his own head on the ceiling.

Seriously? Can we catch a f.u.c.king break here?

Twisting and turning our bodies to try and get into a comfortable position, there's a bunch of swearing, more body parts smacking into various pieces of the car's interior, and the windows are starting to fog up from our exertion. This is so not as hot as it is in the movies. Why the f.u.c.k are back seats so small?

After ten minutes of us scrambling around, we're finally both on our sides facing each other, my back pressed up against the seat.

"I should turn on some music or something," Gavin tells me as he starts to move away from me.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him back to me. "Don't even think about moving or it will take us another hour to find comfortable positions."

Gavin laughs, moving his hand up to brush a strand of hair out of my eye.

"Are we going to talk about last week?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I really don't want to talk right now. You should just take your pants off."

Gavin stares at me blankly for a minute and I wonder if maybe that was too much. Before I can tell him I was just kidding so it's not awkward, he quickly reaches down and undoes his jeans, sliding them right off of his body and then ripping his s.h.i.+rt off of his head in five seconds flat, tossing everything onto the floor next to us. I feel like it's only fair that I do the same. I pull my s.h.i.+rt off and lift my hips, s.h.i.+mmying out of my skirt and kicking it up to the front seat.

"Oh my G.o.d. You're naked," Gavin whispers in awe.

At least I think it's awe. It could be shock. Or fear. f.u.c.k, I hope it's not fear.

"Do you want me to put my clothes back on?"

"Don't you dare put your clothes back on. This is the best day EVER," he replies. He places his palm flat on my chest and runs it down the front of my body. I swallow nervously as he touches me. Gavin has never touched me like this. NO ONE has ever touched me like this. He's right. This is the best day ever.

Leaning up, I press my lips to his. He immediately deepens the kiss and pulls me underneath him. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I pull him against me and holy f.u.c.k is he hard. He's hard because of me. I mean, I know it happened before, but I was touching his p.e.n.i.s. If a feather touched his p.e.n.i.s he'd probably get hard. I haven't even touched him yet. He wants me and I want him and this is totally going to happen right now. I don't care if we're in the back seat of a f.u.c.king Honda.

Okay, I totally care that we're in the back seat of my s.h.i.+tty car. This is like the worst cliche in history. Girl loses virginity in the back seat. What if someone drives by? What if someone looks in the window? Gavin is still kissing me and his hands are pus.h.i.+ng down my underwear and all I can think about is someone staring in the window. I stopped next to a cornfield. Are the Children of the Corn gathering around the car getting ready to kill us?! He who walks behind the rows!

"Did you just call me Malachai?" Gavin asks, pulling his head away from me.

It's never a good idea to call a guy by another man's name when you're about to have s.e.x, even if it's a homicidal maniac dressed like an Amish kid.

"Ha! What? No! I said, 'May I lick..I," I fumble.

"If you want to lick yourself, go right ahead." He laughs. "That might be kind of hot."

Pus.h.i.+ng all thoughts of Malachai staring at us with a b.l.o.o.d.y sickle in his hand, I help Gavin remove his boxer briefs, and then he helps me slide my underwear off. I quickly pull his body back down to mine.

This time when he kisses me, I stop thinking. All I do is feel. His hands run over every inch of my body he can reach, and before I know it, I feel his fingers sliding between my legs. While his tongue tangles with mine and his fingers ghost over my c.l.i.t, I sigh into his mouth and try not to think about the fact that I've never gotten a Brazilian. I keep everything nice and tidy down there, so it's not like he's going to get his fingers tangled or anything, but maybe I should have taken my mother up on her offer to go with her when she went to her appointment the other day. Something about going somewhere with my mother where we're both naked from the waist down, spread-eagle on a table, and letting a stranger paw around down there with hot wax didn't sound appealing. Go figure.

Oh sweet Jesus his fingers ...

Working for a s.e.x toy manufacturer has definitely given him some skills. He uses just the right amount of pressure as his fingers gently circle my c.l.i.t, and I can't stop the sounds escaping from my mouth as he slowly pushes one inside me.

My best friend is diddling me. This is totally happening!

"f.u.c.k, you feel amazing," Gavin whispers against my lips as he holds his finger still inside of me and moves his thumb back and forth right where I need him.

Keep talking. Holy h.e.l.l, keep talking.

"You're so wet and soft and it's so cool you don't shave or wax."

Wait, what? That's not hot.

"Did you just say I'm hairy?" I question on a gasp as he adds a second finger to the first.

I have a hairy wildebeest v.a.g.i.n.a. That's what he's saying, isn't it?

"What?! No! That's not what I meant!" he quickly adds as his fingers continue sliding in and out of me.

This feels good. f.u.c.k no, this feels AMAZING. But all I can think about right now is that he thinks my v.a.g.i.n.a feels like an English sheepdog. All that hair falling down over the top of its eyes so it can't see where it's going. You know, if my v.a.g.i.n.a had eyes. It could be a scary movie: If the v.a.g.i.n.a had Eyes. Rogue v.a.g.i.n.as p.i.s.sed off because they're so hairy, hiding in abandoned houses, waiting to bring down their wrath on unsuspecting townspeople. Wait, didn't Big Bird have a dog like that named Barkley on Sesame Street? Gavin is going to start calling my v.a.g.i.n.a Barkley.

I'm so preoccupied with my sheepdog v.a.g.i.n.a that I don't immediately notice Gavin is reaching his one arm down to the floor; the arm that isn't busy reaching into the horror story that is my v.a.g.i.n.a. He fumbles around for a few seconds before coming back with a condom in his hand.

"I swear I don't always carry these around with me. Aunt Jenny gave them to me a few weeks ago and they've been in my wallet ever since," he rea.s.sures me as he sees me staring at the little foil packet in his hand.

"I'm fine. It's totally fine. Of course you should carry condoms. You need those for s.e.x. The s.e.x that you have. The s.e.x that everyone has," I ramble.

Everyone but me. Oh s.h.i.+t, I should really come clean and tell him I've never done this before. I don't have time to confess that little white lie, though, because he's back to kissing me again and putting on the condom at the same time. This is happening.

He positions himself at my opening, and since his nimble fingers got me nice and wet before Barkley made an appearance, he starts to slide right in like it's no big deal. This is really happening and it's a big deal and oh my holy f.u.c.k JESUS MOTHER OF FIRE BURNING h.e.l.l THIS HURTS!

My thighs clamp down like vises on his hips, and I squeeze my eyes closed as he pushes the rest of the way inside me.

Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, f.u.c.king holy s.h.i.+t ouch.

"Holy s.h.i.+t. What the f.u.c.k? Oh my G.o.d. Charlotte, why the h.e.l.l didn't you say something?!" Gavin curses as he holds himself still and winces like he's the one in pain. f.u.c.k YOUR MOTHER! The only pain being had right now is by me and my v.a.g.i.n.a.

"Oh s.h.i.+t, oh s.h.i.+t, oh s.h.i.+t, oh my G.o.d I'm sorry. Are you okay? WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SOMETHING?!" Gavin shouts.

"Telling you I'm a virgin is not exactly romantic," I fire back.

"G.o.d dammit! The only reason I even had s.e.x with Sh.e.l.ly in high school was because I thought you had s.e.x with DJ! f.u.c.k! Your dad is going to kill me!" he complains.

"Can we NOT talk about my father right now?" I shout.

"We can't talk about your father, we can't talk about you being a virgin, what the f.u.c.k CAN we talk about?!" he yells.

"Are we really going to argue about this right now when your p.e.n.i.s is inside of me?!" I scream back.

We lie there, breathing heavy and staring at one another, until Gavin's shoulders droop and he leans his forehead down against mine.