Till Summer Do Us Part(42)

“I think so, unless you want to keep them up.”

“I’m chill. Whatever you want.”

“I say we get rid of them.”

“Okay.” I start tearing down the wall until there is one left, a soft one that could easily be rolled over, but I keep it there so she at least feels safe. After all, she’s sharing a bed with a stranger. I can’t imagine that being comfortable for her. “That better?”

“I think so, as long as you’re comfortable.”

“I’m fine,” I say and then lift up the red envelope that was in our mailbox. “Shall we read it?”

“God, I completely forgot about that. I was so distracted by the flesh poker in the shower that I bypassed the thought of us having a task tomorrow.”

“The flesh poker?” I ask. “Is that what the youths are calling it?”

“Uh, you are the youth, so you tell me.”

“So are you,” I counter. “You’re still under thirty.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like it,” she says on a sigh. “Either way, I tried removing the flesh poker, because I couldn’t stand it being so close to me when I was showering, but all I ended up doing was sliding my hands over the shaft, and, well…I swear it got harder.”

I let out a whopper of a laugh, because I was not expecting her to say that at all.

“Stop it,” she says, poking my arm. “It’s not funny. I think it’s real.”

Tears come to my eyes as I keep laughing.

“Wilder, I’m serious.”

I wipe at my eyes and shake my head. Once my laughter is under control, I say, “It’s not real.”

“How do you know? Did you touch it?”

“I mean, I swatted at it to see what kind of material they made it from, but if it was real, it wouldn’t have enjoyed the swat. Also, it’s not coming out of a wall. It’s suction-cupped to tile. There’s a difference.”

“You say this as if you have experience.”

I roll my eyes. “If it was real, it would be coming out of a hole, and someone would be standing on the other side. There was nothing real about it.”

“It felt real, and to my dying day, I will swear that it grew in my hands.”

“How long did you hold on to it?”

“Not that long.”

“Seems like a decent amount of time. I mean, your shower was longer than expected.”

“Stop that,” she says while snagging the envelope from me. “You know I want nothing to do with all the erotica in here.”

“Shame. You could have a lot of fun.”

“We are not here for fun, Wilder. We are here to get a job done.” She tears open the envelope and then pulls out the letter. Clearing her throat, she starts reading out loud. “‘Mr. and Mrs. Price, you are expected in cabin ten, green square, tomorrow morning at eight. Breakfast will be provided to you via room service at seven thirty, so do not be late.’”

“That’s it?” I ask.

She flips the paper over and confirms with a nod. “That’s it.”

“Hmm, I wonder what it’s going to be.”

Her lips twist to the side while she starts to think. It’s kind of cute, the way that she gets lost deep in thought, as if no one else is around.

“Oh God.” Her eyes widen.

“What?”

She turns toward me. “What if…what if all this sex stuff is a prelude to the activities we have to do? What if we have to perform our sex live?”

Expressionless, I say, “Do you really think that would happen?”

“I don’t know, Wilder. Did you expect Sanders and Ellison to come out onstage and do what I can only describe as a terrible rendition of one of the choreographed songs from High School Musical?”

I snap my finger at her. “That’s why it felt familiar. You know, I couldn’t quite place it, but yes, it had a Vanessa Hudgens, Zac Efron spark to it.”

“Seriously though, what if we have to have sex?”

“One, that’s not going to happen. Two, it’s illegal. Three, consent is a real thing. They can’t force us to do anything.”

“You don’t know that,” she says, looking panicked now, her eyes going wild. “We could have joined a commune and not realized it. I just signed the papers to attend. I didn’t read the fine print. Did you read the fine print?”

“I had my lawyers read the fine print,” I say as I toss the pillow that’s between us and scoot closer so I can comfort her. I place my hand on the top of hers and rub her knuckles with my thumb. “I never sign anything without them looking at it. You have nothing to worry about.”

“It didn’t say anything about sex in there? Like…live sex or sex shows?”

“No.” I chuckle. “There was nothing in there about sex.”

“Okay.” She blows out a heavy breath. “And you’re sure? You’re so sure that you would bet your life on it?”

“Yes,” I answer. “Trust me when I say there are no sex shows at this—”

Ding.

“What was that?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I say, glancing around.