My Date with The Amber McKenna

Synopsis: Two high school acquaintances reconnect for a date at a hotel pool. The motive behind the meet-up is unclear – well, at least to one of them.

“You’re really telling me you had those tits in high school and we never hooked up?” 

I push off the wall of our hotel pool, feeling the cold water cover my shoulders as I float on my back. “You always wore those massive sweaters. How was a guy to know you were rocking all that body?”

“Almost like that was the point,” Amber McKenna – the Amber McKenna – says from her poolside chair. “I didn’t want any more attention than I already got.”

I scoff, letting my head lull back just until I can feel the water’s chill on the tips of my ears. “Bullshit. You and your posse of girls ate that shit up. You thrived off of getting attention from guys like me.”

I look up just in time to watch her push her bright red hair over her shoulder. She doesn’t deign to reply, but that’s fine with me. The couple strawberry margaritas she made me over dinner have made it easier for me to keep the good conversation flowing.

“I’m just saying,” I say, turning onto my stomach and swimming back over to her with water-heavy limbs. “The whole ‘I didn’t want attention thing’ would make a lot more sense if you hadn’t come crawling back to me anyway.”

“Wow, Rebecca was right. You’re still a complete and total shithead.”

Her eye roll is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. I’ve always been a masochist that way. Chasing after the mean girls. They’re my kryptonite.

“Hey, no judgment,” I say in defense, putting my elbows up on the side of the pool and propping my heavy head on the back of my left hand. “I just thought you were a big city big shot now. Can’t blame me for being a little curious about why you reached back out to little old me after all these years.”

“I don’t remember your ego needing this much stroking in high school.” She’s fiddling with the fabric of her bikini top, which is only partially visible through her mesh cover-up. My eyes are struggling to focus enough to make out the pattern, but it looks like small red polka dots.

“Well, there are a lot of things about me that need more stroking these days,” I say, tongue lolling around in my mouth with every vowel. Her margaritas must have been doubles.

“You’re such a pig.” She’s looking off somewhere into the distance, over my shoulder, not making eye contact. It’s like this woman knows exactly what gets me going.

“Yeah, well,” I start, my head slipping off the back of my hand. “I’m a pig who’s always wanted you. Since the first time I saw you in math class.” 

I kick my legs to boost me up a bit higher on the pool edge, but they feel more leaden than usual. “You always looked so fucking edible. The sweetest little red strawberry. I thought you were the hottest of your friends. Rebecca, Daphne, oh, and the one with black hair, Rachel...?”

“It’s Raquel, you fucking asshole. You dated her for all of senior year.” Her tone is cold and distant. She is my perfect woman.

“Right, right,” I nod, but each movement makes me feel a bit nauseous. “Well, the whole lot of them. They don’t have a thing on you. You’re the clear prize. And I thought that before I knew about your banging tits.”

Another incredibly hot eye roll. Except this time, she follows it up by standing, giving me an opportunity to ogle the rest of her incredible body.

“Not that I’ve really even gotten to see your tits yet. Take that thing off and get in here.” I move to gesture at her cover-up, but neither of my arms is complying, which is…odd.

She stares me down, a slight tilt to her head, analyzing. I’m suddenly very aware of how much she is towering over me.

“Hey, I think something’s wrong-”

“Normally, I would come in,” she cuts me off. “But that doesn’t suit tonight’s plans.” As she speaks, I can feel drool escaping the side of my mouth. 

“I-can’t-feel-my-arms-” I try, each word feeling harder than the last to get my mouth to form. I’m using almost all of my energy to hold onto the side of the pool, but my grip is already starting to weaken.

“It’s sad, really,” she speaks over me again, calm and slow. “How easy this was.”

My brain feels like it’s actively being scrambled. I am fighting for my life to keep up.

“Whaaaaa-” I can’t get my mouth to finish the word.

“Suppose I shouldn’t be the one who’s sad, though. I’m not the one currently floating in my soon-to-be watery grave.”

A sharp pang of panic runs through my chest. I try to respond – to do anything – but I’m stuck motionless, my hold on the wet pool tiles slipping.

Amber bends down, bringing her face close to my ear to whisper.

“I can already predict tomorrow’s headlines. ‘Local man drowns in hotel pool, date left heartbroken.’” Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that she’s smiling. “At least the first part will be true,” she says, brushing her hands together as she stands back up. “But, alas, I won’t be heartbroken. I’ll be fucking vindicated.”

I can’t move. I can’t speak. I think I’m about to die.

“This is so you never, ever, do anything like you did to my girls again.” She stands, looking down at me with her piercing gaze. My grip on the wall lets go, and I start to feel myself going under. 

“But don’t worry,” she says as I start to sink. “I’m not completely cruel. I’ll let you see them. Just this once.” 

And with that, she yanks her cover-up off in one fluid motion. The last thing I see as my head goes underwater is the tiny strawberry pattern of her bikini-wrapped tits. And then everything goes dark.