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He hadn't asked about the stuff on her eyes. It certainly wasn't the war paint that he and his siblings used to blend in while hunting, and he didn't see the use of it. He knew girls wore makeup, but his sisters didn't. What was the point? Surely Claire was naturally beautiful enough not to need makeup.
She swished her foot under the water, almost towards his own feet. The sound of splashing irked him. He tensed his thighs. He needed to pee.
At home, it was easy. Piss anywhere, just not near the house or the garden. Easier for the boys than for the girls. Bo was lucky.
Not now, though. Not out here, sitting by a pool with a girl less than two feet away from him. He was not lucky to be in this situation.
"How old are you?" Her sharp, decisive voice cut through the silence. Her tone had a quality of someone with such confidence, such experience, Bo didn't feel like a man talking to her. He felt lesser, like a boy.
"You look twenty. Are you twenty?"
Fuck. Oh, fuck. She was still talking.
"I turned eighteen last month." He reached down and rubbed his thigh uncomfortably. He tucked his hair behind his ear and swallowed, trying to will away the ripples of anxiety in his abdomen.
"Eighteen?" A surprised smile spread across her pale face, lit from below by the pool lights. A ghostly blue glow shining against her features, the curl of her lips. Bo was thankful for the faint lighting as he felt a blush creeping across his own face.
"Mm-hmm." He answered.
"Huh. Eighteen? You have the body of a man."
"I am a man." A defensive edge laced his words. As if to combat his own statement, he felt an urgent pang from his bladder, and struggled not to squirm.
Some "man" he was.
"Eighteen." She said gently, "You're still a kid. I'm still a kid. We're teenagers." She smiled at him with her teeth, but he couldn't muster a smile in return.
"In the United States, the legal age of adulthood is eighteen." He said. "I'm required to serve jury duty, I can vote in government elections, I can buy a car, and I could marry." And as he said the last word, his heart felt full. She smiled at what he said, but he didn't find the humor. Why does she smile so much?
"I don't think that's right." She said. "Eighteen is very young... we shouldn't have that kind of responsibility."
Another pang from his bladder has Bo wishing he could cross his legs. Instead, he bites the inside of his cheek and cracks his knuckles against his knee.
"Are you--uhm--eight-t-teen?" He stuttered.
Bo felt another pulse from his bladder. He was completely full. He needed to go.
"I'm nineteen. Turning twenty in July."
"Oh."
Bo felt suddenly younger again. Diminished in the presence of a nineteen-year-old. His thighs pressed together and he shifted where he sat. She noticed.
"You okay?" She asked.
"What do you mean?" He hoped she hadn't noticed the tiny squirming movement, but doubted that he had been that subtle.
"You're fidgeting a lot." And then her radiant smile dissipated, and she looked very confused.
Bo only felt more desperate, and his legs began to shake, sending ripples through the water. The sound of the rippling water tempted him to burst even more. The sensation began to surpass discomfort and encroach into pain.
"Yes. I, um." He couldn't find the right words. He suddenly felt more embarrassed and helpless than he had ever felt before in his life. His father had never given him training on how to excuse himself to the restroom. Especially not to a pretty girl.
Woman, He thinks suddenly. She's a woman, as much as I am a man.
He can't hold it anymore. He is bursting and he feels like his bladder will begin to leak spurts of urine uncontrollably at any point.
"I'm uncomfortable." He blurts, trying to phrase his predicament as delicately as possible. He tries to use manners.
"Why?" Her face suddenly draws into a concerned... and almost hurt expression. "Did I say something weird?"
"No!" Bo's heart lurches into his throat, and he clenched his thighs together as he turns to face her.
"I..." He already feels his face reddening in anxiety. He grits his teeth.
"I'm--I desperately--" He swallows. "I need to relieve myself. Very badly." The words tumble out clumsily, and Claire doesn't react. Her face stays the same, processing his words.
He starts to stand, wincing at how badly he needs to go. His bladder has never been so full.
Not even as full as when Steve had stalled in the middle of a busy highway on the way back from town, when it was just him and Dad. Bo had almost pissed himself, then, since he couldn't find enough cover to piss by the road, and Steve didn't have a bathroom. He'd barely made it off the bus and gotten his shorts unbuttoned before his stream burst out of him and puddled at his feet. All his siblings had seen it.
He didn't wish to relive that in front of Claire.
"You have to pee?" She asks blankly, just staring at him with an infuriatingly unreadable expression.
"Yes. I really need to go." He looks around, swallowing nervously again. He doesn't know what's appropriate and what isn't, and he struggles to find the words to ask her a question. "Where--where should I...?"
Claire's face is still neutral and unmoving, but she responds helpfully.
"There's some bathrooms back there, but they're probably locked right now." She jabs her thumb in the direction behind them. Bo notices the small building that had been behind them the whole time.
He wasn't used to using a toilet. He hadn't even thought of looking for an actual bathroom.
He nods at Claire, hoists himself out of the pool, and rushes to the other side of the restroom building. He yanks on the handle to the men's room, but it is locked.
"It's locked," He shouts back to her, feeling pathetic, frantic, desperate, and hoping for guidance. All previous notions of his manhood had flown out the window, and Bo felt like a helpless boy again.
She'd gotten out of the pool by then, and gone after him. He hears her voice approaching.
"Well... I won't mind if you have to go outside. You look like you can't wait." And Bo notices the faint trace of a smile beginning to reappear on her face.
"I can't." Bo confirms, fidgeting with the waistband of his shorts, but not unbuttoning them. Instead, he just looks around, trying to find an appropriate place to relieve himself.
"I'm..." He blurts helplessly, "I'm gonna go... here." He points to where he's currently standing.
"I would appreciate it greatly if you'd look away." He continues, "Quickly, please. I--I need to go."
"Right." Claire's lips tighten into an unamused and slightly uncomfortable line.
Before she's even fully spun around, Bo's hands are frantically unbuttoning and unzipping his shorts, all while a thin stream dribbles uncontrollably down his thigh.
He curses under his breath when he finally frees himself from his clothes, and his stream patters embarrassingly loud against the concrete. He splashes his own feet by accident, but reasons with himself that he'll just wash his feet in the pool when he's done.
Bo can't help but let a low groan seep out through his teeth. Claire doesn't say anything.
"I'm sorry." Bo gasps, his brain still frazzled from the overwhelming relief.
"It's alright." Claire says, and Bo can hear the smile in her voice. At least she's amused. Bo feels more relieved.