Co-WRECKER

  “This was a good idea, baby. Perfect date for our day off, especially since I’ve never been here.”

  She sighs and takes in the fresh bay air whipping up from the ferry ride. “I keep forgetting you’re not from around here. My friends and I came to the Thousand Islands during the summer and visited Boldt Castle. Smilly and I used to always say how amazing it would be to get married here one day.”

  “Married, huh? Are you fishing for a proposal?” I tease.

  She elbows me from behind and laughs. “No. But you want to know me, so there’s a little factoid for you.”

  And thank God for that. Her little factoids are few and far between, but when I’m graced with one, I absorb it.

  Wanting to dive a little deeper, I ask, “Was it just you and your friends? Or did you have supervision?”

  “At first we did. Emma’s parents would take us, but then once we started driving, we would drive up on our own.” She lifts her chin to the breeze and takes a deep breath. “Some of my best memories were made up here. Some of my favorite moments, favorite laughs.”

  “Yeah?” I kiss the side of her head. “Tell me one of them.”

  Snuggling in closer, Sadie wraps her arms around mine and stares out in front of us. There is a tour guide in the background talking about the islands but we ignore him and focus on our little world. I’ve had a few girlfriends, but this feels different. Is it because we’re older? No idea. A large part of me hopes this day creates more good memories for her.

  “Last year was my favorite time by far. Smilly just turned twenty-one, she has an early birthday, and we decided to celebrate. We wanted to do shots, but Emma had other plans. She put together a really nice dinner for everyone. We were asked to wear our finest and act our finest, but given the flask I had in my purse that Smilly and I kept drinking from, our finest was nowhere to be found. Once we ran out of booze, we started sneaking out to the bar across the street, acting like we had to keep going to the bathroom. After the third bathroom run in twenty minutes, Emma started catching on, and we were busted. We got pretty drunk and ended up trying to untie the apron strings on our waiter the rest of the night, a game we thought was hilarious. Unfortunately the waiter didn’t share that sentiment.”

  I laugh, envisioning the entire thing in my head. “Why do I feel like you got kicked out of the restaurant?”

  “You would be right.” Sadie chuckles. “Smilly and I were asked to leave, but not before we got our meals to go. We sat on the curb of the restaurant eating out of our doggy bags while impersonating the snooty waiter. People thought we were some kind of pathetic street show and tossed money at us as they walked by. We ended up making a little over five dollars.”

  “Hell, that’s something to be proud of.”

  “We were. We ended up buying souvenirs for our boy—”

  She pauses.

  “For who?” I ask, waiting to see if she’ll keep going or if she’ll shut down.

  Her body stiffens. Any hope I had for her to continue sharing vanishes when she says, “Doesn’t matter.”

  And just like that, the jovial mood fades and an awkward air surrounds us. She was going to say boyfriends. I’m not an idiot. But I wanted to actually hear her say it, to go beyond a drunk story and tell me a little bit more about her life. Who was he? Do I know him? Was he a dick to her? Did he understand the complex, yet beautiful woman Sadie is? Did he see her the way I see her? Gorgeous, complicated, the perfect combination of feisty and sexy? Or had he already been accepted into her small circle of friends, been privy to her secrets, and knew her inside out?

  I sure as hell hope not, but from her stiff set posture, and her resistance to even say the word boyfriend, I’m going to guess he did.

  Sighing, I drop the topic and revert back to the superficial where she’s comfortable, hating that once again, she closed me off.

  I try to tell myself in good time, she’ll open up. That she’ll want to share things with me. It’s just going to take some time. I’m a patient man. Fuck, I was a patient man until I met Sadie. I just hope I can hold out a little while longer. But does she want me to hold out? Or do I butt out completely?

  Chapter Nineteen

  ANDREW

  The last two weeks have been fun. Yeah, that’s how I would describe it, fun. Not heavy, not emotionally intimate, just . . . fun.

  But hey, I enjoy fun. I like the spontaneity of fun. Who doesn’t enjoy fucking in the shower, on the kitchen counter, in the backyard on a blanket under the stars? All very FUN times to give the old V a pounding from P.

  And yet, I want more.

  I want fucking more from Sadie, and she is set in stone on not giving it to me.

  It’s so fucking frustrating.

  There is so much more to her than the minimal information she’s given me. I know her likes and dislikes, which is great and all, but that’s shallow shit. I know her mom fucked up their family’s life and there was something to do with jail, but that’s the extent of it. I want more. I want to know Sadie, the person. I want to know what makes her tick. For the love of God, I want to fucking know why she refuses to let me in on her life. What the fuck is she hiding?

  My phone buzzes next to me.

  Sadie.

  I open up her text and read it.

  Sadie: Getting off work in half an hour. What are you up to?

  I glance down at my computer and the code I’ve been writing all night since I left work. I’ve been lost in the script for the past three hours, typing away and listening to the Harry Potter soundtrack. For the record, I’m one hundred percent Gryffindor, but if I had to be sorted into another house, I would want to go to Hufflepuff just so I could say the word Hufflepuff.

  Andrew: Working on some computer stuff for a class this coming semester. I want to be ahead of things when classes start.

  I lean back in my chair and ruffle my hair. In all honesty, I could use a break; my eyes feel like they’re about to go cross-eyed, but for the life of me, I can’t get my fingers to text her to come over. I blame it on my frustration. Not sexual frustration, but an unfamiliar frustration I haven’t felt before.

  What I think could be something great between Sadie and myself is turning out to be a glorified summer fling. She doesn’t want more. I just need time away from only skimming the surface with her. I want more. It’s not just that she’s under my skin, but I feel more for her than I’ve felt for any other girl. Despite her reticence, we click and see eye to eye on so many things. I want more picnics. More of the fun interaction at work. Just . . . more. But if she doesn’t, is it worth continuing to try? Am I stupid for bothering?

  I let out a long breath and lean on my desk as I grab my hair. “Fuck,” I mumble just as the door to the front of the house opens. My head pops up immediately from the sounds of things crashing against the wall and heavy footsteps.

  I whip around to look out my door, fear prickling the back of my neck. Eyes still trained on the door, I reach for any kind of weapon behind me and pull up a ruler. Holding it above my head, ready to stab someone with the corner, I walk toward the stairway just as I hear, “Andrew!” from down below in a very thick, Finnish accent.

  “Oh Christ,” I mutter and toss the ruler back on the desk, pretending I wasn’t about to use the damn thing as a tool of self-defense. When did I become so paranoid and jumpy? That stupid bat. It’s his fault.

  “Andrew, you home?”

  I race down the stairs to find Leena and Katja standing in the living room, suitcases scattered along the floor, both ladies wearing Finnish flag baseball hats and gym clothes. I guess they’re back.

  “Hey, ladies. What are you doing back here early?”

  They don’t answer me. Instead, they drop everything and snag me into a hug. We share the same height of six foot, but whereas my hair is a dirty, messy blond, theirs is almost white. And very long. If it wasn’t for Katja’s brown eyes compared to Leena’s blue, I would have sworn they were twins.

  “Andrew,” they say
together while hugging me and jumping up and down.

  Friendly. I’ve met them once and here they are, creating their own personal Andrew sandwich.

  Awkwardly, with my arms at my side, wisps of blonde getting stuck in my mouth, I say, “Uh, good to see you, too.”

  “We’ve missed you,” Katja says, pulling away and gripping my face. Without any warning, she kisses me on the lips and then turns me to Leena who does the same.

  “Whoa, hey there.” I back away, straightening myself. “Watch it there, ladies. I’m spoken for.”

  “Oh, Andrew. You have boyfriend? This is exciting.” Leena claps her hands.

  “What’s his name?” Katja asks.

  Wait. What? Boyfriend?

  Uh, they think I’m gay?

  “I bet he has cute butt like Andrew,” Katja adds, trying to poke my behind.

  “I think he dates bear.” Leena holds up her hands like claws. “Grrr.”

  “Because Andrew is . . . what do they say, twink?”

  Twink? Oh, fuck no! If I were to take a “gay personality” type I would never be labeled as a twink, more like a STUDent. Muscles, brains, and sex appeal. No arguing that.

  “Wait, hold up, ladies. I’m not gay.”

  Katja and Leena stand tall, slightly caught off guard. “You not gay?” Katja asks.

  “No. I like women. I have a girlfriend.” Yikes, pulling the G-card out, pretty sure Sadie will flatline if she hears me say that.

  “Oh.” Leena and Katja exchange glances and I worry they might kick me out of the house since they were under the impression they’d be rooming with a gay man. I sure as hell hope not. I don’t want to go live with drunk Uncle Gallom, the hairy belly-button rubber.

  I need to catch them before they ask me to leave. “I hope you know I wasn’t trying to mislead you when we first met.” I swallow hard. “It’s not my intention to impersonate a gay man, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not nearly half as cool. I barely know how to match, I really like the smell of a new box of pencils, not that that has anything to do with not being gay, I’m sure gay men like to smell boxes of pencils . . .” I pause for a second and think about what I’m saying. “Well, if you perceive pencils to be penises, then I guess they would like to smell a box of them. I know I would like to smell a box of vaginas, err . . . forget I said that. I’m not a creep.” I shake my head and continue. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to move out. I like it here and I’m sorry if I mislead you.”

  Once again, Katja and Leena exchange glances, a slightly confused look on their faces until finally, Katja questions as if she doesn’t understand. “Box of vagina?”

  Figures.

  “Eh, forget I said that. I just want you guys to know I would like to stay.”

  “Oh, that is fine,” Leena says with a wave of her hand. “Just hope girlfriend doesn’t mind.”

  “Nah, she’s cool.” I look at their suitcases and ask, “Do you ladies need help with your bags?”

  “Please,” Katja responds, whose room is behind the kitchen.

  She points to what bags are hers and I take them back to her room, which is void of anything personal. I thought chicks dug that sort of thing. But, I have two brothers, what would I know?

  When I return to the living room, Leena is typing away on her phone. As I start taking her bags to the upstairs room across from mine—three times the size of mine by the way—I ask, “Why are you ladies back so early?”

  “We want to get in good training before we report back. We like the gym here.”

  “That’s cool.” Both girls follow me as I trudge up the stairs with Leena’s bags and place them in her room.

  “Did you decorate?” Katja asks, peeking into my room.

  “Just a little.”

  Without being invited, both Leena and Katja walk into my room and start exploring the small space, touching my computer, and playing around with my life-size Derek Jeter cutout.

  “And you say you’re not gay,” Leena jokes, poking Derek Jeter in the crotch. Hmm, I could see how having him is incriminating to my manhood.

  “This room is small,” Katja announces, after doing a quick spin around the space, taking in everything.

  “Yeah, but it works.” I don’t want to be ungrateful.

  “Okay, I’m done in here.” Both of them leave and then say something in Finnish, which immediately makes my balls shrink in self-consciousness. I want to hold my finger up and say we should always speak English, but then again, I don’t want to be labeled a dick right off the bat.

  “Joo,” Katja says to Leena, nodding. “Andrew, we go open TV now.”

  “Huh? You got a new TV?”

  “No. We have one. We just go open it now. We like the show Fixer Upper.”

  Open the TV? Do they mean . . . turn on?

  “Uh, you’re going to turn on the TV now.”

  “Ah yes, turn on,” Leena says in her heavy accent. “We turn on TV now. We will be downstairs.”

  “Okay, glad you guys are back.” Very awkwardly I wave as they talk to each other in Finnish all the way down the creaky stairs. I really hope they’re not talking about me.

  Hell, who am I kidding? They’re talking about me. What else could they be saying that they don’t want to say in English? See where desperation to find housing gets you?

  Back at my desk, I sit down and throw my headphones on to take away some of the background noise from the TV downstairs. I need to focus on debugging this loop in my code. Focus eludes me, logic is gone, my mind is a jumble.

  Sadie.

  I just don’t understand her. I know she’s reserved and seems to operate within a very tight circle of friends, but why does she not even want to try and open up to me? She said the other guy was out of the picture, but what if he isn’t and she’s still trying to work out whether or not they are really done? No. That’s not Sadie. Did he hurt her? Is he still friends with Sadie’s friends, and that’s why we need to be a dirty secret?

  With the combination of thoughts of Sadie, my roommates talking in Finnish and thinking I was gay, there is no hope here. I keep reading the same code over and over again, making no progress. Seems like my studying is done for the day.

  Needing a drink, I take off my headphones and make my way downstairs, still wondering if I’m an idiot trying to stick things out with Sadie. But my thoughts are completely evaporated the minute I make it to the first floor.

  What the hell?

  Okay . . . Can’t say I’ve ever found this most peculiar scene in my shared living room before.

  The first floor of the old New England-style home is a little awkward. The front door opens straight into the living room, which then opens up into the dining room, creating an odd space since the stairs to the second floor are right off the dining room.

  So you can understand my shock when the first thing I see coming down from the stairs is two sets of breasts.

  Finnish breasts.

  Bare Finnish breasts.

  “Uh.” I quickly shield my eyes, unsure what to do. Should I sprint back upstairs and act like I never saw anything, even though I made eye contact with Katja? Should I wave and compliment said naked breasts? Give them a little fist bump and then show them my nipples. Nip for nip kind of thing? Or should I just keep moving to the kitchen that is no more than fifteen feet away?

  Choosing the latter, my fucking feet have never walk-sprinted so fast in my life.

  I make it to the kitchen, which thankfully blocks my view of my topless roommates, giving me a chance to breathe.

  What the fuck are they doing?

  Is this normal practice amongst all the people on this earth with vaginas? Do all women like to hang out in the afternoon topless? Is it some kind of boob-growing technique? Let them flap around to add extra growth? Do they even keep growing in college?

  Fuck, why don’t I know anything about boobs?

  I’m out of my element. I have no clue what the hell I’m supposed to do. This is no
t normal practice; at least I don’t think it is. And why the hell do I keep envisioning lifting my shirt and pressing my nipples against theirs, as if some kind of magical fucking force would spark between us all, bonding us forever, synching up our estrogen and testosterone into one magical nipple-induced rainbow?

  Now that thought is fucking weird. Nipple bonding. I’m almost ninety-nine percent sure that isn’t something.

  At least now I’m in the kitchen, and I can get my drink. That’s right, get a drink, Andrew, and then start thinking of your escape route out of the kitchen. I open the fridge and bend down to grab a Mountain Dew. If only I had a Snickers to go with it . . .

  Standing up, I crack the top open just in time to come face to face with Leena and her blue eyes, blonde-white hair, and her flat but very bare chest. She can’t be any bigger than a double A. I would be shocked if she was.

  “Oh, can I have one too?” Leena asks, starting to bounce up and down. Okay, maybe they are As. There is some movement there.

  I am not looking at them! I am using my well-honed skill of chancing a look with my peripheral vision. A skill every man has so he doesn’t get caught checking out women’s boobs. Because, let’s be honest here. We always check out women’s boobs. They’re boobs.

  “Sure,” I answer, feeling like I’m living in some weird European paradox.

  Side note: for the record, I don’t think Europeans walk around topless. I just think my roommates do. Okay, carry on.

  I hand Leena a soda and then decide to address the elephant in the room. There really isn’t anything else to do but ask.

  “So, Leena, I can’t help but notice that you’re missing your top.”

  “You don’t like boobs?” She takes a sip of her soda so casually that it drives me crazy.

  “No, I like boobs, Leena, it’s just that it seems weird to me that you’re topless in our house, in the shared common areas.”

  “It’s topless Tuesday. You take your shirt off, too.”

  She reaches for my hem but I back up and hold up my hands, Dew in one of them.

  “I’m okay. I would like to keep my shirt on, but thank you for the offer.” Clearing my throat, I ask, “Do you think this is going to be something that happens every Tuesday?”