Yes -- and he takes Corrine back with him

It took us forever to find her bra. Corrine hadn’t thrown it far, but it was pitch black out on the beach, and it took a good fifteen minutes of crawling around on our hands and knees in the pouring rain, blindly groping at the grass before I stumbled onto the damn thing.

On the way back to her house, I told Corrine that I wanted her to come back to Rachel’s cabin with me, to be with the rest of us for the week.

“But I wasn’t invited,” she protested. “And everyone hates me right now.”

“I’M inviting you. And everyone will forgive you. It’s not the same without you, not for any of us.”

I could see that the prospect of facing her angry friends scared the shit out of the girl, but she bravely nodded her assent. She told her family what was up, grabbed a few days’ worth of clothes, and rejoined me at my mangled van. She had stealthily borrowed a dry shirt and pants from her older brother for me to wear—which were comfortable enough, despite looking clownish on me (Corrine’s brother was six foot five).

The rain wasn’t nearly as bad on the way back as it had been earlier that night. An hour into the drive, I pulled us over onto the side of the highway and shepherded my passenger into the back of the minivan—where she straddled me reverse-cowgirl and we fucked again, so that I’d be clear-headed and able to drive safely, without constantly staring at her tits. It sort of worked. At least I didn’t get in another accident.

When the fog of our climaxes had faded, she asked me if I wanted her to be my girlfriend now.