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Chapter Twelve
Point of View: Nick


See, the thing about dates is that, at least in theory, you should probably remember them the next morning. The problem with that date with Krystal? Well, I woke up the next morning and had no fucking clue what the hell had happened. I was in a bed I didn't recognize, with Krystal buck naked in my arms, and a sickly, rolling, rocking feeling all over me.

I sat up quick and cracked my face off a beam of wood hanging over the bed. "FRICK," I yelled.

Krystal sat up, startled by my yell, "What's the -- FRACK!" she screamed, hitting her head on the same beam. She smiled tentatively as we both rubbed our foreheads. Tears had flooded her eyes, though.

I leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. I was fully dressed.

It was weird though because I didn't have much of a headache like I usually do when I'm hung over and stuff. Well, I did now thanks to the beam, but before that not so much.

I looked at Krystal. "Where the hell are we?"

"I have no frickin' clue," she muttered, "You tell me, Mr. Sober-Pants."

"I don't think I was too sober last night," I said, "Considering I don't recognize this place at all."

Krystal jumped up all naked like and stretched. I couldn't tear my eyes off her breasts long enough to inspect the room we were sitting in. "Ohhh," she muttered, "You had some of Joe's magic!" she grinned, "Isn't it phenomenal?"

"Joe's magic what?" I asked, confused, "Who the fuck is Joe?"

Krystal laughed, "Joe's my guy," she explained, "Remember? The one with the briefcase?"

No, I did not remember. But I nodded anyway. My mind was racing, trying to piece together all the damn connections. Then it clicked. "Wait a second, no, no, no," I snorted, "No. I don't do drugs, Krys."

She laughed again. Actually laughed. "Well you can't say that line anymore with any kind of integrity. You were blowing like a porn star last night!"

I blinked up at her. "Krys, no - Why the -"

She shook her head, "Denial. You're cute." She reached over and ruffled my hair.

I felt cold.

"Maybe he slipped it to you," she said, but her tone clearly meant she knew otherwise. She winked at me and turned.

I felt like I had been sucked up into a vacuum cleaner or something. I was spinning and everything was dark. I had a sudden rush of remorse for a spider that I'd vacuumed up the day before. Poor bastard never knew what hit him.

"Wait a second," I said, "You have a guy? You do enough shit to need a guy?"

Krystal shrugged, "Jos's great, he always has the best stuff, what can I say?"

I stared at Krystal, dumbfounded.

"It's okay Nicky, I can hook you up, no worries," she said, smiling.

I couldn't even fathom a response to this sentence, so I decided to channel my energy into figuring out where the fuck we were. Kevin, I realized, was gonna pummel my ass if he ever found out what I'd done. Drugs? Seriously? He'd been ready to kill me over tequila, not to mention whatever the fuck Joe's magic was.

I looked around the room we were sitting-slash-standing in and realized it looked an awful lot like a tree house or a -- a--

Oh no.

Krystal opened a little door and stepped outside of the room, still in her birthday suit, and called back the words I needed to confirm my nightmare. "Hey! We're on a boat! Oh wow, Nick, c'mere!" She disappeared out the door completely.

I scrambled out of bed and went after her. I stepped out onto the deck of a small yacht. Krystal was standing by the edge of the boat, her breasts hanging there in front of her as she leaned over, looking down, her perfect ass mooning me, her womanhood peeking out between her legs. I could totally just walk over and take her if I wanted to. Then I heard a splash and a high pitched laughing sound. Dolphins.

I wanted to go look at the dolphins.

Part of me knew I should make Krystal get dressed and figure out how the fuck to get home. After all, God only knew how long we'd been asleep. We were obviously alone - a quick cursory glance had shown we were the only ones on the boat and I couldn't see any other boats -- or land, for that matter -- anywhere.

We could be half-the-fucking-way to Cuba for all I knew.

Maybe we'd meet Howie's descendants and get some Mexican cuisine on the house.

Wait - is Cuba part of Puerto Rico? I never can remember that shit.

But the irrational, cool part of me - the part that secretly was pumped by this whole experience and how rock star it made me feel - wanted to run over and look at the dolphins with the naked babe I'd done drugs with. This was SO something that I imagined reading about in like Kurt Cobain or Ozzy Osbourne's biographies. Not The Life & Times of Nick Carter, the Backstreet Boy.

I stood there, feeling torn.

I was just about to run over and score with the naked-dolphin-petting-sexpot when a thought ran through my mind.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God." I gasped the words out. I couldn't breathe.

"What'sa matter?" Krystal turned around, her breasts still dangling enticingly in front of her. The dolphins were still giggling in the water.

"I'm going to jail."

"What? Why?" Krystal looked confused.

"Do you have ANY idea what we've done?" I demanded.

"No, what?" Krystal was blinking rapidly, her eyebrows puckered together. "What's the matter, Nick?"

"We're FELONS!" I screamed.

Krystal laughed, "What?"

"We stole a boat!" I yelled.

Krystal snorted, "Nick, we didn't steal a boat. What the hell makes you think we stole a boat?"

"BECAUSE THIS ISN'T MY BOAT!" I bellowed.

We stood there in silence a moment, then Krystal's face paled. "Oh my fucking GOD, Nick, we stole a fucking boat!"