Pucked Up (Pucked 2)

When the sun hangs over the tree line and my stomach starts to rumble, we go back up to the cottage to make dinner. While Sunny prepares some stuffed pepper deal, I check the fridge for animal products to go with it. I should know better—it’s full of tofu and fresh produce. The only item that isn’t plant-based is a container of non-dairy creamer, and that’s synthetic junk. If we’re going to stay a while, Randy and I will need to pick up some bacon and burgers at the very least. When I check the freezer, I find lobster tails and crab legs. If I’m going to eat Waters’ food, it might as well be the expensive stuff.

We don’t eat dinner until almost nine, which Sunny tells me is typical at the cottage. As long as there’s lots of food and it tastes good, I don’t care about timing. Lily comes down and surveys the table. It seats eight comfortably, but the only unused place setting is beside Randy. None of us—apart from Sunny—has seen her since the blowout with Benji and the face sucking with Randy. She doesn’t so much as look at him, but her face is red again, and she’s uncommonly quiet.

She guzzles her glass of wine and tops it off, staring at the contents while conversation goes on around her. Sunny and Randy get along well, which is a bonus. If I could find some common ground with Lily, we’d be golden. I can tell she wants to escape, but she stays, maybe because she doesn’t want to be rude.

“What is this thing, anyway?” She picks up the orange sculpture from the center of the table. The cape around its neck looks like it’s supposed to be for Superman, except it has the letters MC on it. There are googly eyes and a mustache.

“Let me see that.” Randy holds out his hand, and she passes it over. He flips the cape up and starts laughing so hard he almost falls off his chair. “It’s a superhero dick.”

“I bet a million dollars that’s Violet’s work,” I say.

“What’s the MC stand for?” Randy asks.

“I think that’s what Vi calls Waters’ dick. Monster Cock or something,” I offer. Everyone stops eating. “She does a lot of oversharing.”

Randy snorts. “Waters’ isn’t that hung.”

“That’s what I thought, but he’s got a stash of Magnum XL in his bedroom,” I reply. “Sunny can vouch.”

“No shit. He must be a serious grower.” Randy stabs a green bean and bites it in half.

“I can’t deal with this conversation.” Lily drops her fork on the table and grabs the dick sculpture. She and Sunny decide to take pictures of it all over the cottage.

The two of them are ridiculous, giggling their asses off as they hide the Superhero dick behind pillows, on the fireplace mantel, and in the fridge. It’s the first Lily’s smiled since Randy and I arrived.

When they’re done, Lily and Randy take care of the dishes while Sunny and I go outside to build a campfire. She swats at the back of her neck and scratches under the collar of her shirt.

“You okay? Still itchy?”

“It’s fine. I think it was a mosquito. I’ll put on some bug spray once we get the fire started.”

I wait until we’re away from the cottage before I say anything about our friends still inside. “You should probably warn Lily about Randy.”

“I already did.”

“Yeah, but—”

Sunny puts a hand on my shoulder, rising up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my lips. “They’re adults.”

“Yeah, but she’s probably not going to be making the best decisions, and Randy can be smooth.”

“Like you?”

There’s a difference between me and Randy. He’s a different kind of smooth. He’ll get involved with a bunny until it gets too serious, and then he cuts ties. Completely. I’ve watched him shut girls out like a door in the face. I know why he does it; he doesn’t want to end up doing to someone else what his dad did to his mom. Unfortunately, it means he leaves a trail of discarded, emotionally crippled bunnies in his wake.

We were eleven when Randy’s parents split for good. His dad was mostly farm team with only a couple NHL seasons under his belt. He wasn’t very good about keeping his dick in his pants on the road. Randy’s mom put up with it until she couldn’t anymore. I think Randy’s afraid he’ll follow the same path, so whenever it starts to get too real, he bails.

I’ve always been upfront with bunnies about how things will go down. It’s been about having fun, not getting serious. Until now. Sunny makes me see the value in being vulnerable with someone. Sometimes consistency is better than variety.

Still, her comment hits me right in the chest.

She must read it in my face. Her fingers curl around my chin. “I don’t mean it the way you’re taking it, Miller. Well, in some ways I do. You know what to say and when to say it, and you definitely know what to do and how to do it well, but I never feel like you’re feeding me lines.”