Page 9 of Tied up in Knots (Gummy Bear Orgy #4)

You planning on showing me a good time?

I’ve been in love with Bambi since I was sixteen and spent the winter with her and Gigi.

The weather was especially severe that year, which forced the schools to close and all of us to become home schooled, as it does sometimes.

When there’s too much snow and ice and it’s unsafe to travel to school, they send us all home with packets of work to turn in by a deadline.

They would also post instructional videos on the school’s website for each packet.

Being trapped at home with nowhere else to go and nothing for my father to do than drink, since there was no way for the boats to go out fishing in such weather, made for a less than pleasant home environment.

Only a few days into the home schooling and my father got in a mood, taking out his unhappiness on my face and twisting my wrist until it broke.

After I was released from the clinic, sporting a brand-new cast, I went straight to Gigi’s house.

She let me in without question and called my parents to inform them I would be staying with her through the winter or until the cast came off, whichever came last.

Gigi is not a woman anyone in this town argues with. She’s a tough lady who doesn’t take shit from anyone, is fiercely protective of those she loves, and makes a killer rhubarb pie.

That winter was the best months of my life.

Bambi and I spent hours reading books, or rather Bambi read me books.

I’m not a fan of reading, but I am a fan of listening to her read.

Even though she was a year younger than me, she made sure I finished all my homework and passed my classes.

I even had my first real Christmas since before my dad became intimate friends with the bottle.

We decorated a tree, after cutting one down from the acres around Gigi’s house, made homemade presents and wrapped them with colorful paper and giant bows.

I think it was Christmas morning, when I opened Bambi’s present, that I realized I loved her as more than just a friend.

She gave me a hand crocheted blanket that I know must have taken her weeks to make.

It was only big enough to wrap around my shoulders, had a few stray threads, and wasn’t exactly a perfect rectangle, but I loved it.

Still have it, stored away in a box for safe keeping.

I had drawn her one of my doodles in the overall shape of a baby deer.

Within the design I included things she loved like books and roses, and all of our names, Bambi, Warren, Isabelle, Owen, and Gigi.

The four musketeers and one honorary musketeer.

Ever since then I’ve been trying to convince myself it was nothing more than puppy love, an infatuation because she was so nice to me.

Teenage hormones making me horny for any girl who smiled at me like I was the sunshine in her life.

Although Bambi was the only one who ever smiled at me like that.

Other girls only smiled at me like I was the next notch in their belt.

I may have also started teasing Bambi a little more than normal after that to conceal my admiring attention. I still like to tease her but in a far more flirtatious manner these days. And now I guess a more sexual manner.

God, I loved teasing her last night. Drawing out her pleasure until it was too much for her to handle and she broke.

She was beautiful falling apart under my hands and mouth and cock.

No other woman has looked so stunning. Her whimpers and moans are all natural, no faking or performing.

Everything about her is always real and natural, and beautiful.

I spend the entire day unboxing supplies and canned goods, carefully storing them in their proper compartments for my long journey ahead, and through it all I can’t stop thinking about Bambi.

I was such an asshole this morning. I should have been sweet and told her how long I’ve been in love with her. But the drunken slurs of my father filled my head, as they always do, no matter how many years it’s been since I’ve heard it.

“A boy like you will never be enough for a girl like her. You’re worthless and she knows it. You’ll never amount to anything more than a loser who can’t stand up for himself. You’re weak Warren. Don’t bring her down with you.”

Father of the fucking century. It doesn’t matter how many people agree that he’s a worthless use of space and I should ignore everything he’s ever said to me.

The words and the scars remain. Many of which are now concealed under tattoos of my own design.

Others, like the anchor on my chest with Bambi’s hidden name, conceal emotional scars.

I’m going to have to get over her sooner or later.

Sooner would be preferable, since I’m leaving in a matter of days.

It’ll probably be later though. Like way later.

Possibly years. Or an eternity. I’ve had years to get over her and haven’t yet.

I’ll just have to live with the ever-present feeling of a giant hole in my chest.

Shake it off Warren, you have other things to focus on right now. Like making sure the sails are secure, and that I have plenty of sunblock for when I get to South America.

I manage to avoid Bambi for the next twenty-four hours. Her busy with running The Book Vault and me with preparing my boat. As long as she doesn’t visit Gigi, it’s easy to not see her for days.

My phone pings in my pocket and I stop waxing the deck and pull it out to see a text from Owen.

Owen doesn’t argue. I figure he just wants to hang out again before I leave.

It would be good to have a little guy time.

Take my mind off leaving Bambi and her giant heart, addictive kisses and what I now know is a magnificently perfect body under those overalls.

And now I’m getting a semi thinking about her.

Yeah, I need something to occupy my mind before I break and sneak into her apartment and ravage her again.

I drive to the diner a block from The Book Vault in my single bench seat pick-up truck.

This truck has been with me since I was seventeen and bought it for five hundred bucks.

Much like The Knotty Boy , it required some work, a lot of work.

I didn’t bother with the cosmetic crap, just the necessary.

Things like the heater and defrost. The bench seat is covered in an eighties style striped cloth and the radio is nothing more than a radio.

No bluetooth or sync here. The exterior is a faded patch work of blue paint.

I park at the diner and spot Owen through the window, laughing with Izzy and Bambi. Fuck. So much for guys night.

I momentarily contemplate turning around and leaving, texting Owen that I’m too busy to make it, but he spots me through the window and waves.

The girls turn their heads to see who he’s waving at.

Izzy waves just as animatedly as her brother, while Bambi barely lifts her hand and wiggles her fingers, only the faintest smile pulling at one corner of her lips.

The movement is small and might not have been seen by most, but I see it.

Because all my attention is on her and her rosy cheeks, golden caramel eyes, and the creamy knit sweater that she wears under today’s overalls.

Denim embroidered with animals and flowers. So adorable.

Sucking in a steadying breath I slide out of my truck and enter the diner. Acting like I’m not remembering waking up with a naked Bambi wrapped tightly in my arms.

“Hey man, finally. We were all hungry, so we ordered your regular,” Owen greets me with a slap to my back, steering me towards our booth. The same booth we always sit in. There has to be a decade’s worth of Izzy’s gum stuck to the bottom of the table.

“Thanks,” I manage and slip into the booth next to him directly across from Bambi.

“Hey Bambi.” My voice drops an octave when she looks up through her feathery lashes and the light catches on the dark green ring around her irises. She really is as innocent and pure as a baby deer.

“Hey,” she replies in a soft breathy voice I am far too familiar with now.

Izzy and Owen launch into a very loud and animated conversation, half of which I don’t listen to. Those two bicker like it’s an Olympic sport. Not for the first time I’m happy I don’t have siblings.

Our food arrives and we all shove our faces full of the same four meals we’ve been ordering for years.

Grilled chicken salad with walnuts for Izzy, spaghetti bolognaise for Owen, double bacon cheeseburger for me and BLT with extra pickles for Bambi.

A giant plate of curly fries and every flavor of sauce they have set in the center of the table to share.

I’m going to miss nights like this, sitting with people I know better than myself and food I don’t even have to order but comes out perfect every time.

But that’s also exactly why I’m leaving.

To get out and see the world and meet new people and eat new food.

Sitting here may be comfortable but I’m tired of comfortable and predictable.

I want new and exciting, unknown and unfamiliar.

The fact that everyone in town knows about my history is a high incentive to leave.

“So, we were thinking we’d spend one last night together, like we used to in high school,” Izzy preens with a mischievous smile.

“Like what? Is it gonna get me in trouble like when you wanted to go for a swim in the school’s pool and lied saying we were allowed to be there but ended up in detention for two weeks?” Bambi, the forever law abiding good girl, shoots a glare at her best friend and I stifle a laugh.

“No. Just a trip to the hangout house.”

The hangout house is an abandoned house on like, ten acres of land just outside of town. Kids for the last twenty years have been using it for parties, hook-ups, weekend runaways from home. We use it as a hangout. On an occasion or two I used it for hook-ups too.