192. Screwed

"People are going to start showing up in an hour. We both need to shower, and I need to build that damn patio table," I said, then looked up at him provocatively. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Cayden's eyes lit up. "I hope so."

We raced each other into my room, pulling our shirts over our heads before we got there. I had my pants half way down before the bedroom door shut. Five seconds later Cayden pulled my panties off and threw me on the bed.

I'm not trying to put slow, sweet, romantic sex down or anything, but sometimes the fast, rough, quickies are the way to go. There's something exciting about quickies. They lend themselves to more hair pulling, tighter grips, and more raunchy playfulness. And they almost always end in doggy style, which I love, before we both collapse with red, splotchy necks, gasping for air.

"Oh my god, I missed that," Cayden said, on his back, trying to catch his breath.

"Me, too. I could do with one of those after breakfast, lunch, and dinner," I said.

I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then abandoned him for the shower. Yes, my third shower. Finally.

While Cayden showered I took the the driveway to attempt to put the table together. We'd borrowed my roommate's car when we got home from the airport and made a second trip to Big Lots. Hence the time crunch.

I sat down and studied the pieces: frame, tiles, legs, centerpiece, washers, screws, bolts, bigger screws, and that little L-shaped stick that works as a screwdriver. I was determined to put the table together before Cayden got out of the shower. I was screwed. You'd think I bought it at IKEA based on the instructions.

Needless to say, by the time Cayden stepped outside the only thing I'd accomplished was screwing the wrong-sized screw into the wrong hole, causing the dangling table leg to swing around and nearly impale me. So I surrendered. Cayden was good at screwing. And at finding the right hole. That's what boyfriends are for, anyway.

Terry and Randy came back from Six Flags with a party tray of Chick-fil-A nuggets and the all the materials to make a game of washers: spray paint, PVC pipe, saw, nails, and washers. With Terry and Randy hard at work on building the washers, I "assisted" Cayden with building the table. By that, I mean, I held random table parts and fed Cayden nuggets.

"Oh my god," Cayden said. I glanced around to see what he was gawking about. Was there a leg missing? Had we built the entire thing upside down?

"Those nuggets are delicious!"

Who knew Chick-Fil-A nuggets would be one of the prized delicacies of America?

I put the finishing touches on the table, sliding the marbled cement tiles into place. My older sister Noelle and her husband Jay showed up and went to work on making bacon-wrapped asparagus. Carson and her new boyfriend Geoff, who we all adore, showed up with potato salad, cole slaw, and more cold beers to add to the overflowing cooler. Rae and Chaz came with pastel-sprinkled cookies and more potato salad.

I was surrounded by all of my favorite couples (except for Joyce and Joey, who had obligations in Oklahoma for the weekend), and I was finally one of them. No more third, fifth, or seventh wheel. I wasn't the odd man out. I wasn't the person everyone tiptoed around to try to make sure they didn't act too "couply" or make me feel awkward. I was there with my most favorite person in the world, as a couple, and I was fucking thrilled.

We didn't spend the evening paired off into couples of groping each other, although I still imagined our earlier quickie every time I closed my eyes. In fact, within minutes it was like a 7th grade dance: The boys on one side, the girls on the other. The girls were sipping on Summer Beer, a delicious concoction of vodka, beer, and limeaid made with love by Carson, as we talked about the boys.

"Look at them," I said, gesturing toward the group of guys sipping their non-Summer beer and patting each other on the backs while they laughed. "They're so used to be surrounded by girls, they're clinging to the testosterone."

It was true, whenever Cayden came to visit, he'd get stuck hanging out with me, Carson, and Rae or me and my sisters. Now that Chaz was back from Germany, he was stuck with me and Rae. And Jay was always surrounded my my sister's beautiful model-type girlfriends.

"I can't believe I awkwardly hugged Geoff," Rae said to Carson. "I was just so glad to meet him!"

"That's OK," Carson said. "He's good with awkward. I mean, he's dating me."

"Whitney, your smile is just so freakin big when he's in town!" Carson said, and then everyone turned to me, nodding their heads in agreement.

"Hey, I got laid. Of course I'm a happy girl." We all laughed as we joked around like men. While, yes, I was happy to have found a cure for my sexual frustration, they all knew I was beaming just to have Cayden in town. What more could a girl ask for? Except for maybe a boyfriend with a green card.

Eventually, the guys and girls merged as we crowded around the table for hot dogs, bratwursts, bacon-wrapped asparagus, corn-tomato salad, and all of the slaws and potato salads one could imagine. I propped myself up on Cayden's knee, and he casually rubbed my back or my arm while we talked in the group.

My coworker, Annie and her boyfriend walked in through the garage.

"My muffins!" she exclaimed as she ran toward us with her arms in the air. Annie was one of the most positive, put-together, and genuinely sweet people I knew, and she had a penchant for calling her friends "muffins."

"I guess that would make me Whitney's English Muffin," Cayden said under his breath.

Yes, my English muffin. And I was going to gobble him up.