I spent the night at Dubu’s. He went to do a tour this morning while I spent the day in town. I walked out of his place and down the dirt road to four corners into a crêperie called Fireweed. It was divine! I ordered a Nutella crêpe along with some freshly made cookies that did not taste good, though they looked the part.
I went upstairs and made myself comfy on one of the cushion chairs. I stretched my legs out and the moment I pulled out my book to start reading, a young fella approached me. He looked familiar. Shortly into our greeting one another, I recalled I had seen him square dancing! I remembered making a lot of eye contact with him on the floor.
He was young, smaller build and blonde. There was a sweet welcoming in his eyes that held a lot of stories. He pulled up a chair and placed his presence into my space, coming off as confident and having no issue holding eye contact with me.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
It seemed he was going through something and needed a listening ear.
“Go for it!” I said as I let him know he had my full attention by closing my book.
He was from Minnesota and had the accent to prove it. He was here for seasonal work, but expressed he felt overworked and would be flying out July 2nd. His words became vague and sporadic as he spoke of transitions he was going through, sharing part of his heart with me.
“I feel like I’m having a quarter life crisis,” he said, shortly turning 25.
“I know what you mean,” I said, recalling numerous moments of shit not going my way at that age.
He took notice of my diary that had a pen placed on top.
“That’s awesome that you write in an actual physical journal,” he said.
“There’s something about the energy of putting pen to paper,” I said, “I feel as if more insights come my way. Plus, it’s therapeutic.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “it’s as if a different part of your brain gets activated and things just flow.”
I nodded my head in agreement.
“I’m a writer, myself,” he shared.
“What do you write about?”
“Poems,” he said, “but I prefer not to share with the public.” He inhaled a deep breath and a soft smile curved on his lips. “I came here for the stories,” he said.
“Me too,” I said, returning the smile back. “That’s what we writers do.”
We talked for the better part of an hour. I listened to him express his fondness for meditation and the way he’s learning how to balance his work life with his happiness. It seems younger people have been catching on to how fucked up the system is and the absurdity of having to work tirelessly just to experience the bare minimum in this world. We had a good energy exchange together. I appreciated that he wasn’t pushy with me. I just listened. We were both tired, so there was this softness between us two strangers. His name was River.
After we parted ways, I ran into a couple of lodgies who offered me a ride back to the lodge. There, I made a quick stop inside the lodge. Xiomara was working the front desk, chatting it up with Mulch.
“Did you go to the hiker party?” she asked me.
I looked over at Mulch. “There was a hiker party?” I asked, acting offended he didn’t invite me.
“Yeah, it was all hikers,” she said, “you didn’t know about it?”
“No, it wasn’t just hikers,” Mulch interjected, “goddammit Xiomara. Thanks.”
“Do you not like me, Mulch?” I asked. “You can just tell me to my face. I can take it.”
He kept looking away.
“Why aren’t you making eye contact with me?” I prodded jokingly.
“Because you’re making me nervous as fuck!” he exclaimed. “It wasn’t a hiker party!”
After a good laugh with them, I started walking over to Brown Town. On the way there, I ran into Mason.
He pinched my lower belly, then tugged at my shirt. “You’re a hard woman to get a hold of,” he said, referring to ignoring his texts/calls and the way I kept saying I would come over but wouldn’t. I liked doing shit on my own time without being pressured into it. And the more I could feel a guy begging for my attention, the less inclined I felt to hang out with him.
I kissed him then told him I was going to go eat at the EDR but ran into Russ on my way there. He was very much trying to fuck, saying he’s been replaying the image over and over in his head about the way I drenched his cock with my juices.
“I keep getting flashbacks of how much you were drooling all over yourself when I was pounding you from behind,” he said.
“Yeah, that was fun,” I said, surprised he still wanted anything to do with me.
“You really like to be seen,” he said.
“Yeah, I love to be watched,” I confirmed. “I’m an exhibitionist. I don’t like to be hidden.”
“Yeah, only with you would 50+ people show up when we try to go on a hike,” he teased.
“I know, I love it,” I said.
He teasingly bit my nipple and the spit seethed through the shirt.
After that, I hung out with Juozas in the EDR, trying to extend time through conversation because I could feel Russ lurking around me in the background. I probably shouldn’t have led him on. Shortly into being there, he pulled up a chair next to us, apparently interrupting our conversation. He wanted it bad and I didn’t want it at all. In Lithuanian, I asked Juozas to walk me to my room after I wasn’t giving Russ any sign I wanted to fuck and so he did.
When we were inside my room, Juozas leaned his shoulder against the door frame of my bathroom then jokingly asked to see my tits again. Quickly, he changed his mind. “Just kidding, just kidding,” he said as he looked away.
I rolled my eyes, then began lifting my shirt. Less than a second later, he turned back to watch me reveal them. They were bouncing up and down after my shirt got caught on my nipples. He melodramatically made a jaw-dropping expression. I laughed out loud at the status of our relationship. It reminded me of being kids. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” kine thing. He offered to show me his junk, but said it was completely shaven and that I wouldn’t like it. I agreed. I loved our transparency with one another.
After he left, Russ began reaching out to me, desperately wanting to fuck my throat and then me. “I’m watching How I Met Your Mother,” I said, feeling tired and bored. It would be different if I hadn’t already fucked him.