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finding more. He picks one piece up, squeezes it, and then shakes his head.  Too wet for a fire
tonight. If we cover it and keep it in a safe spot, maybe it ll be dry by morning.
I swallow hard and slap at another mosquito.  Will we be okay?
 As long as no big predators come looking for us, yes.
 That s not very comforting.
Mendoza turns to look at me and reaches into his shirt.  I m not a fan of making promises I can t
keep. He pulls out a pair of small bags and smiles.  I did find this, though.
Pretzels.  You found the drink cart? My stomach growls hungrily, and I want to rip both bags out
of his hand and scarf the contents down.
 Part of it. There were a lot of smashed cans and these two bags. I m hoping we can scout for a
bit longer tomorrow and find the rest of it.
 No more water, though? I m really thirsty and the sips we ve been taking from our bottle
haven t been doing it.
He shakes his head.  We ll refill it when it rains again with a leaf, just like we did earlier. As
we d walked, he d taken a big leaf from a tree and held it, making a funnel while the rain poured, and
I held the bottle. It had provided us some water, but I felt as if I could drink an entire jug.
 And no sign of your Boy Scout bag? I ask.
Another grim shake of his head.  Or Afonso. If that bastard got away . . .
 It won t do him any good. If we can t get out of here, he can t either, right?
He rubs a hand over his wet hair, careful not to touch the bandages on his face. A rueful smile
crosses his face.  Right.
Rain starts to spatter once more, and I want to scream when the first droplets hit my skin. It has
rained off and on all day, and just when I start to get dry, it starts again. I m not looking forward to
sleeping wet in the dark jungle, and Mendoza just shakes his head and moves to the firewood,
bundling leaves around it and tucking it against the tree trunk. He then moves the lean-to over one side
of the trunk and gestures that I should join him.  We ll have pretzels for dinner, unless you object.
 And here I was hoping we d dine on bugs, I say lightly, and step in.
 That s breakfast, he teases back.
It s so ridiculous that I laugh, and he smiles at me in the twilight.
We scarf down a bag of pretzels each, wash it down with a few mouthfuls of water, and then try to
get comfortable. There s not a lot of room in our tiny, half-assed shelter. Water still drips down, but
it s protecting us from some of the worst of the rainfall, so there s that. Mendoza moves to the
outside, and I realize he s doing that so I can be in the most sheltered part of the lean-to, where the
least rain will hit.
That s . . . sweet.
 There s room for both of us, I tell him as a fat raindrop plops on his head, right where his
bandage is. I gesture at the covering over his eye.  You need to keep that dry.
He shifts uncomfortably and doesn t move toward me.  I m fine.
I roll my eyes and lie down, scrunching my body against the interior.  Get in here. I don t bite. I
know why he s reluctant. It s that monster in his pants that I ve pointed out like some sort of blushing
virgin. Hell, I don t blame him for that.  Monster in his pants might be putting it mildly. Too mildly.
I ve dated guys of all shapes and sizes. I m no stranger to sex, and I ve seen my share of ugly
penises. Circumcised, low hanging balls, I ve seen it all. However, I ve never seen a dick that s quite
as big as Mendoza s. He s gone past the whole  lucky guy category and straight into the  what the
ever-loving fuck category. The  don t get that thing near me category. The one that makes my legs
tighten and want to clamp together at the thought. I haven t seen him naked, but if what is outlined in
his pants is legit, he s abnormally huge. To think I mistook it for a weapon earlier is laughable.
No handgun is that big.
Thing is, I don t care about the size of his dick. I mean, not as more than a conversational sort of
topic, like my heterochromatic eyes. But I know Mendoza s a guy, and if we snuggle based on his
reaction to me before he s going to get wood. That will make things super awkward.
But if we don t snuggle, he sits in the rain and we lose out on body heat. That puts things
decidedly in the  snuggle column. I cradle my bad arm against my chest and pat the palm fronds on
the ground, avoiding any misgivings I might have about this.  Come on.
Mendoza moves in next to me, though I can tell he plainly doesn t want to. All right. I m going to
have to make the first move if we re going to get past all this awkwardness. I wait until he stretches
his long legs out and then I move a little closer to him, tucking my head against his shoulder again and
pressing up against him. Not in a sexual way, just in an innocent sort of cuddle.
He hesitates for a moment, and then puts a hand around my shoulders.
 Watch the wrist, I say, gesturing at my bad arm.
 I should look at it.
 In the morning, I say, because it s getting so dark I can barely make out Mendoza. I actually
don t want anyone to touch my wrist right now, including myself. It hurts too much. I lean against him,
and he s warm like my own personal radiator. That s really nice. I almost don t mind that it s raining
and getting cold and dark.
Almost.
It s silent in the jungle as it gets dark. Too silent. I hate it, so I speak again.  Maybe we should
play a game.
 Hmm?
 Yeah. You tell me one thing about you that I don t know, and I tell you one thing about me that
you don t know. Each night. By the time we get out of here, maybe we ll come out of here as friends.
I nudge him with my good elbow.  Though I m gonna be real honest and say I d prefer we left as
strangers because we get rescued so fast.
He chuckles.
 I ll start, I say.  My eyes are two different colors.
 I knew that. His voice is soft in the darkness.
For some reason, I feel a blush creeping over my cheeks.  Okay. I told you that I m a hand model,
right?
 You did. Keep going.
 Okay. I try to think of a different fact for my game.  Here s one. I lost my virginity when I was
fourteen. Camp. He was a counselor and all of fifteen. It was all very glamorous when I was a kid,
but looking back, I guess it s pretty stupid. I smile faintly at the memory of what a dumb, rebellious
teen I was.  He had such smooth moves, though. Even sang me a Justin Timberlake song. I was
hooked after that.
He snorts. I can t tell if he s amused by my anecdote or grossed out. I guess I wouldn t blame him
for either.
 Your turn, I say.
Mendoza s quiet for such a long time that I start to wonder if he s going to play our game or not.
I drum my fingers on his chest, waiting.  Well?
He stiffens against me. After a long, tense moment, he says, almost grudgingly,  My friends call
me Rafe.
I roll my eyes. This is what I m getting from him?  Gee, what a secret, I say dryly.
He doesn t respond. Against my shoulder, he s all tense again. Uncomfortable. I wonder if he has
another erection.
I wonder if he s going to spend the next few days God, please let it be only a few days!
awkward around me. I guess we need to get things out in the open.  Maybe we should talk about it,
Rafe.
 It?
 You know. Godzilla.
CHAPTER TEN
RAFAEL
I wonder how long it takes to drown yourself in a rainfall. Or at least kill an erection permanently. If I
believed in a higher being, I would suspect that I was being punished for some bad deed I ve done in
the past. I ve done a lot of them, so I guess this is karma shitting itself all over my head. It s the only
way I can explain how I am stuck in the jungle with the hottest piece of ass in all of humanity.
Unfortunately that hot-ass woman is looking at me like I m a freak which I am and that I could
hurt her which I could but have no intention of doing. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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