Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 01

"My uncle keeps the fridge fully stocked, too," he said, kicking the door of the appliance. "Didn't even think to ask about that."

"You mean we'd have had nothing to eat if he hadn't?" she asked, blinking meaningfully at him. Not that he seemed like the sort to pick up on subtle body language.

Curt shrugged, laughed awkwardly, and scratched the back of his head. "Not that long a drive down to the nearest mini-mart."

For goodness' sake.

"Plenty of beer, though!" he said.

As if to underscore the point, Zach walked in behind her at that point, carrying the Coors Light. Kristen followed behind him, trailing a rolling suitcase behind her.

"Fuck yeah!" Zach said. "And they're already cold, after that drive."

"Toss me one then, bro," Curt said.

And, of course, Zach did. Because the time it would have taken him to put the cardboard box down on the counter first would have been unbearable. The two of them had swallowed a few mouthfuls each before they set the first glass bottle inside the vegetable bin.

"I'm gonna go get changed," Kristen announced, giving Yvette a meaningful look.

"Um, right. And I've got to, ah, powder my nose."

The guys paid them no mind. Why would they? There was beer there, and they'd hardly drank any of it. By time-honored tradition, the talking to girls part of the ritual came later.

So she followed Kristen down the hall and up the stairs without another word.

"You take this one," Kristen said, pointing to the nearest bedroom. "I'll take the other."

The other. "You said we'd all have our own room," Yvette said.

Kristen shrugged. "Must've misheard him."

Right. "Well, I hope he's not above sleeping on a couch."

"I wanna show you something," Kristen said with a gleam in her eye. Yvette could almost think the girl was going to make a pass at her. "Go put your stuff down first though."

The promise of something worth hiding from the boys did not keep her from taking a moment to inspect the room. It was every bit as gorgeous as the rest of the cabin. The color scheme was the same as in every other room, but there was a red lamp on the nightstand that really popped. And the scented candles sitting atop the dresser filled the air with a pleasant smell even though they weren't burning. Butter cream, perhaps. The bed was huge. Whether she chose to share it with Zach or not, she'd have plenty of room.

Looking out the window was a little disorienting, but not as bad as she'd feared. At least not when she stood this close to the doorway, far away from the glass. When the sun went down, she'd have to make a point of finding herself exactly where she stood now.

Yvette put her bags down, shrugged her jacket off, tossed it on the bed, and then sat down beside it to pull her boots off. She was tempted to unpack, maybe even check her makeup, but Kristen had looked about ready to pee her pants as it was. So after quickly adjusting her bra where no one could see, which she'd been waiting to do for hours, she hit the light, closed the door, and padded down the hall to the other bedroom.

"First," Kristen said, more or less the instant she walked in, "eh? Eh?" The bottle in her hands hadn't even come into view before she started prompting Yvette for a reaction.

"Um, cool?" Yvette said. "What is it?"

"Polish vodka. Over ninety-five percent alcohol. This shit'll fuck you up."

Great. "Where'd you get it?" she asked. "That's not legal in the US, is it?"

"Not most places," Kristen said, still effusive. "My brother picked up a few bottles over the summer. I've been holding onto this ever since."

"Hmm."

Apparently, it finally dawned on her that Yvette did not share her enthusiasm. She looked crestfallen. "Fine. You don't get any. Too expensive to waste on non-believers."

"Fine with me."

"You don't drink either?"

Either? Did she think Yvette a virgin? Because of the conversation they had in the car earlier? Geez, if she only knew. She'd put a few figurative notches in her lipstick case since the start of the semester too. She'd just been more discrete about it than Kristen.

Not least because one of her conquests had been her chem professor.

"Just not sure how drunk I want tonight," Yvette replied. "If you'd busted that out last Wednesday, after my Calc exam, I'd have been all about it."

"So we just need to make you do some math, then you do shots."

She rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't expect you to take advantage of me after I pass out. Those two, I'm not so sure about," she said, pointing in the general direction of the kitchen. She thought. "You wanna see me good and drunk? Let's have a girls' night in sometime."

"Whatever," Kristen said. "What I really wanted to show you is this," she said, pulling out something silky and lacy and slutty and gorgeous. A romper, maybe? Or a teddy? She didn't really know her lingerie too well. What girl their age did? "He's going to take one look at me and die of a heart attack."

"You know what they say," Yvette replied casually. "No sex like that with a fresh corpse. Rigor mortis is better than Viagara."

"They say that?" Kristen asked. "Eww."

Yvette had no idea where she'd heard that. If she ever had. It had just come out. She blamed the other Yvette. The one who probably would handcuff Zach to the bed at some point and ride him so hard he'd be lucky if she didn't break it off.

"On second thought, maybe I'll take the couch," Yvette said, content to leave the whole necrophilia thing lying there forgotten in the snow. "You tend to get pretty loud."

"Do not!" Kristen protested. "You bitch." Then, after all but three seconds of Yvette staring flatly at her, she wilted. "Okay, I totally do. But you slept through it that one time."

"Right. That one time."

"Granted, he wasn't very good," Kristen added, as if she hadn't heard Yvette.

"So," Yvette said. "You gonna put that on now?"

"What? No! You gotta build up to these things."

"Well, you said you were going to get changed."

Kristen dropped the lingerie back into the suitcase, scooped up a case of breath mints, and let fly. It didn't come anywhere near Yvette. "Not into that," she said. And with that, she slipped her wool sweater up over her head.

Yvette turned away. It wasn't like she'd never seen the girl in nothing but a bra, which might or might not be where this was going, but she still hadn't quite gotten comfortable with her roommate's attitudes towards undressing in front of one another. When it was finally safe to look, she found Kristen wearing a tight long-sleeved T and a cute cardigan. The ensemble was relatively warm and incredibly flattering. Yvette tried not to envy her friend's narrow waist and toned abs, but failed.

Sometimes, she wished she could snap her fingers and be thinner and prettier. She hated knowing that if she could pick one supernatural power, she wouldn't go for telepathy or invisibility or the ability to fly or any of the more obvious answers, but rather the power to change her appearance. Nonetheless, that absolutely was what she'd choose.

Kristen looked her over. "You staying in that?"

"What's wrong with this?" she asked.

Okay, maybe she had a few too many layers on. But it was still cold inside the cabin. Maybe after they got a fire going, she might worry about emphasizing her curves.

Her friend shrugged. "Nothing. You look nice."

Translation---you look like a fat pig, but at least you match.

#

"Look what we found," Curt said as the girls walked into the living room.

"C'mon, put it away," Zach muttered under his breath.

At least, Yvette thought he did. There was a look of exasperation mixed with resignation on his face. Like he didn't approve of his friend's behavior, but knew better than to make any real effort to alter it because he'd failed so many times in the past.

That was interesting. There might be hope for him yet.

A different girl might have been turned off by Zach's defeatist attitude, but she found it very relatable. No one seemed to understand how draining that sort of thing was for introverts like her. And, it would seem, Zach. How simply being around people, even those they liked, could be hard work. She'd no sooner hold it against Zach that he offered a weak objection than she would judge someone who refused to stand in front of a runaway train.

"What's that?" Kristen asked, slipping past Yvette. She carried her bottle of vodka casually in one hand. "Really? A board game? I thought maybe we'd play something fun."

Yvette had been so busy reappraising Zach that she hadn't even bothered to look where Curt had pointed. Laid out atop the white coffee table was a board made to look like it was covered with blood splatters, a pair of black dice, and a deck of cards with skulls and crossbones patterned on the backs. There was a DVD case sitting by the box that looked like it might somehow be part of the game.

The rush of excitement that she felt was entirely normal. A byproduct of her wish that she was there with her parents, board game aficionados both, instead of a bunch of hormonal youths who were more interested in killing brain cells than getting some mileage out of them. Wasn't yet another sign that she was excessively morbid or anything. And any skinny little blondes who thought otherwise could go suck a duck.

Besides, the game was obviously going to be really cheesy. Way too over the top to take seriously. If she laughed her way through it, she wouldn't look as weird as she had when she'd reacted the same way to one of the final Saw flick back in high school.

"And by `fun' you mean...?" Curt said with a grin.

Smooth, Cassanova. Real smooth.

"I dunno. Like a drinking game?" Kristen said with feigned innocence. As if anyone didn't think she meant strip poker. Or Truth or Dare. Or some other juvenile shit that ought to be banned from college campuses the world over. "I brought reinforcements," she added, placing the bottle down with the label facing Curt. Coincidentally, of course.

Yvette quietly took a seat on the couch behind Zach, who sat on the floor reading the instructions for the game with a scowl on his face.

"Whoa. One-ninety-two proof? Seriously?" he looked up at Kristen with newfound respect. No, not respect. Men like Curt weren't capable of that. More like surprise that she might be just a little bit more than an object for his sexual gratification, seeing as she was capable of bringing him euphoria through another channel. "You fucking rule."

"Got any shot glasses?" Kristen asked, beaming proudly.

Look how cool I am, I got some super illegal contraband. Bask in my glory.

Yvette poked one of Zach's broad shoulders, and maybe sorta took note of how hard the body she felt underneath appeared to be. "So how's this game work?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Trying to figure that out."

"Lemme check," Curt told Kristen, which was apparently an invitation. The two blondes headed into the kitchen together, raising the average IQ in the living room by a few points.

"Looks like we take turns rolling the dice and advancing-"

"I'm familiar with the genre," Yvette cut in, smiling. "Any special wrinkles?"

Zach frowned. Or tried to. The expression quickly turned into a self-deprecating chuckle that kinda made Yvette want to jump his bones right then and there. Or at least get some of that sexy beard of his between her lips. He seemed like he might be okay with that.

"Right," he said. "Doesn't look like it. The space you land on determines whether you draw a card or not. And that tells us what scene to play from the DVD."

"And that's it?" she asked.

Candy Land had more room for strategy than that.

"Think so. There's a whole bunch of other sections, but they all seem to be referring to optional rules. Might be best to keep it simple the first time, huh?"

"With those two? Definitely."

"Yeah, well. We love 'em anyway," he said with a grin, earning him a few more brownie points. Or perhaps get-me-out-of-my-panties points.

Was it actually possible for teeth to be that white and sparkling? Outside of TV commercials? Dang. That just wasn't fair. How was she supposed to keep Bad Yvette in her cage when he went around flashing those beauties at her?

If he wasn't so damn hot, she wouldn't find every little thing he said, every facial expression he made, so charming. There was enough blood flowing to her prefrontal cortex for her to realize this. But he was. And the part of her she was finding harder and harder to control with each passing month was keenly aware of it.

There'd been a time when Yvette was a good girl. Quiet, well-behaved, and every bit as nerdy as her friends thought. Before the black nail polish, numerous piercings in all the obvious places, and flowery tattoo spread across her upper chest, all of which she'd adopted by way of camouflage. Or so she'd told herself. Her first kiss had come at sixteen, and she'd lost her virginity two years later, the night of her senior prom. But that had awakened something inside her. And whatever it was, it was getting stronger.

At first, she hadn't gone too crazy. There were a lot of guys, some of whom she didn't know, but she was learning now that most girls her age could say the same. But as summer had gone on, she'd gotten increasingly raunchy. Just before going away to school, she'd attended her father's company picnic, and ended up letting his boss and five of his coworkers run a train on her. She still wasn't sure whether he knew about it or not, since he was the type of man who'd sooner pretend not to see something than talk about it.

She still hated heavy metal. Her iTunes library was full of dance and pop music, and the plays column showed embarrassing numbers next too every One Direction song. But it was getting harder and harder to tell where Yvette ended and the disguise began.

"How'd you meet Curt, anyway?" she asked. "You said something about a former roommate earlier. The two of you didn't live together last year?"

"No, just since August," he admitted as he planted his butt on the table so he could sit facing her. When he looked directly at her, she saw how breathtaking his eyes really were. He was like Alexis Bledel's character in that crappy Sin City movie. His eyes were the only source of color in a world of black and white. Except they weren't nearly as light shade as miss Gilmore's. They were bright and intense and colorful and reminded her of glaciers. "We took a History class together. I wrote a paper for him."

Yvette smacked him. "You did not!"

He shrugged. "There ware worse ways to earn a hundred bucks."

"But not many that'll get you kicked out of school quicker."

"Only if someone tells on me," he said, staring hard at her with affected menace.

Yvette giggled as she held up her hands in protest. "Not me."

"Anyway," he said, removing the hoodie that was fast becoming unnecessary thanks to the roaring fire off to his left. The torso he thereby revealed was two or three different kinds of perfect. A thick tuft of chest hair stuck up through the collar of his T-shirt and the size of his hard muscles was apparent. As she'd figured, they were big but not too big. He was just the size Yvette liked. "He did better on it than even I expected. Better than I did on the one I turned in for myself, in fact."

"Serves you right," Yvette said, smiling.

She was really starting to feel it. Her pussy was throbbing, her cheeks felt flushed, and there were butterflies in her stomach. It was too bad she'd gone with her usual pink lipstick instead of one of the darker shades she occasionally busted out. If he was observant, he'd probably notice the rush of blood that a good black or even dark purple would have hid. of course, her pupils were probably super dilated, so it might not have mattered anyway, but most guys had a hard time looking a girl in the eye while speaking to her.

Why was his story having that effect on her, anyway?

Yes, it told her that he was intelligent, which was hugely important to her. Well, it probably meant that. It was only so hard to do well in fluff classes like history. But whatever. The more important point should have been that it also told her that Zach had no qualms about intellectual dishonesty. Which should have bothered her a lot. Not made her wonder about what other rules he was into breaking.

He shrugged. "Probably. Point is, he felt bad, like he'd somehow cheated me because he'd gotten more value out of the exchange than he'd bargained for. Which is weird. I can't imagine going back to the dealer and insisting on paying more for the car they sold me after it ended up needing little routine maintenance after five years."

"Me either."

"That's basically what he tried to do, though. And when I wouldn't take any more of his money, he started inviting me to parties that guys normally can't get into."

Yvette snorted. "Mmm. Pity. The basis of every lasting friendship."

Zach frowned and scratched at his beard nervously. "Yeah. I'm not proud of the fact that I went. But I didn't really have any friends at that point, so...," he shrugged. "Some of us have to take what we can get."

"Awwww," she said. Fortunately, it came out sounding sarcastic. Which was way more appropriate than what she'd actually meant. She really did not know him well enough to say she'd be glad to take him home and ask her parents if she could keep him. Which hadn't very nearly come out of her mouth or anything. "Figured that only happened us freaks."

"Freaks?" he asked, feigning his surprise so well she nearly kissed him.

"You may have noticed I don't look like most people," she said, pointing first at the ring in her left eyebrow then the diamond stud in her right nostril, followed by the pyramid extending from her lower lip. She almost continued on down to the tattoo her V-neck partially revealed, but then realized that might seem like she was calling attention to her cleavage. And though she wouldn't have minded knowing that he appreciated what she had to offer, Good Yvette was sufficiently in control for her to realize the lack of subtlety that would display. "Most guys avoid me like the plague. And those who don't assume I'm just dying to talk about shitty music. Or worse, vampire porn."

He chuckled. "Guys suck."

"They do," she agreed. "As do vampires." That made her blush. "Okay, that was a terrible pun. And thoroughly unintended. But you get my point."

"Don't you mean points? Plural?" he asked, tapping his two canines.

Yvette groaned.

"Okay, so who's doing the first body shot?" Curt bellowed as he and Kristen returned.

"Speaking of how guys suck," Zach whispered, making her pussy throb even worse.

"Maybe after the game," Yvette said aloud, hoping she heaped on enough sarcasm.

"Pffft," Kristen said. "Let me at least make you a mixed drink."

She stared at her friend for a time, but saw that she was determined enough to make a stink if Yvette refused. "A weak one." She ten rushed to add, "And only if there's anything decent to mix it with. You know I don't drink pop."

"There's juice."

"Cranberry?" she asked.

One of the older guys she'd hooked up with over the summer had taken her to a bar. A real one, where they ID college kids. Unless, of course, they happen to be with older guys. He'd ordered her a vodka-cranberry, and it hadn't been too bad.

"What's this look like, the Hilton?" Kristen said. "Try orange."

"Fine," Yvette said.

Curt placed a fresh beer down beside Zach, along with a tall shot glass. One with five lines on it, market Freshman, Sophomore, etc, right up through Super Senior.

"Don't," she told the guy she barely knew, as if they were close enough friends for it make sense for her to try to watch out for him. The moment the word left her mouth, she slapped a hand over her face. "Sorry. Do what you want."