Page 33 of The Fast Lane

He paused, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. “We talk a lot. At least once a week.”

“Good, I’m glad because?—”

But Theo leaned down and whispered, “Naked guy on a bike coming right at us.”

I turned my head away. “I don’t want to look.”

“Then don’t.”

“But I have to.”

“You do not.”

“I can’t not look. It’s like passing by an accident or coming across a pimple-popping video.”

He huffed a laugh and then waved at the man as we passed.

I looked, hoping my red face would be taken for extreme sunburn and not a level of embarrassment I had yet to experience in my life. “Ouch. That looks so uncomfortable.”

“Yes, it does,” he said with feeling.

You know what’s weird? Being unexpectedly stranded at a nudist resort. Even weirder? Being unexpectedly stranded at a nudist resort with your brother’s best friend whom you’ve secretly been half in love with for half your life and there are naked people everywhere.

EVERYWHERE.

Shiny, happy, smiling naked people.

The community center was a long, one-story building, much bigger than I expected. We parked the golf cart and climbed the porch steps. The large set of doors, flanked by bulky wooden rocking chairs on each side, was unlocked. They opened to reveal a long, wide room that took up most of the building, sort of an all-purpose area to hold large gatherings.

A handful of people crowded around a table playing a heated game of (naked) Monopoly. At the other end of the room, a (naked) group of people were seated on couches around a television in a sectioned-off area.

“Hello there,” a voice called out. A woman easily in her seventies sat (nakedly) knitting. “You two lost?”

Theo and I looked at each other and grinned.

“Why would you think that?” Theo asked.

“Looking a little overdressed for this party.” She winked and then directed us to the corner of the room for the strongest signal.

While Theo checked his messages, I called my mother. That phone conversation went about as well as I expected. She was beside herself. When she asked the name of the place where we were staying, I made up something generic but assured her we were safe.

“Do you get any strange feelings from the owner?” she asked.

“Why?”

“Does he seem like a man who is looking to make a dress from your skin?”

She had no idea why I laughed so hard, and I wasn’t about to explain. “Please stop watching true crime documentaries. Please.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, after she was sufficiently convinced I wasn’t going to be murdered in my sleep, “I sent you the link to my video online. It’s getting so many views. Watch it and tell me what you think.”

Next, I called Mack to let him know we’d see him in the morning and then listened to him tell me about the WWII documentary he’d watched earlier in the day. And while I wasn’t at all interested in Operation Overlord, I’d sensed lately that Mack was lonely. It had been a year now since Grandma Grace died and the History Channel was not a substitute for human interaction.

Both of us were quieter on the trip back to the cabin.

“I’ve never stared at so many foreheads in my life,” I said after a while.

“Or ears.” Theo grinned. “This has been the weirdest day of my life.”