by Jo Watson
I followed the hand to the muscular arm and turned my head to see whose body this appendage was attached to. I couldn’t see all the way behind me, but the head of salt and pepper hair made me realize that I’d fallen asleep on Alex’s bed, and now we were spooning!
I became aware of my legs suddenly, and then became aware that they were tangled up in his. God, this was rather awkward . . . but, mmmm, well, I must say, it did feel rather nice. I hadn’t felt the weight of a man’s body wrapped around mine in bed in a very, very, very long time. But although it felt nice now, I knew that the second Alex woke up the nice would become awkward.
So I tried to wiggle my way out of it. But he was too heavy. Still, I persisted. I continued my wiggle, trying to make my body as flat as possible so I could slither out. I made some progress and soon I was slipping lower and lower through his grip. If I carried on like this, I would make it to the bottom of the bed and I’d be able to crawl off. But as I’d managed to get halfway down, Alex moved. He readjusted himself and tightened his grip around me.
Great! My head was halfway down his chest now, and in this position, I had one of his knees poking into my shoulder blade. It was uncomfortable. I stuck my hand around the back of me and tried to push the knee away. But it was hard, and firmly stuck in place. I tried to swat it away a few times, but it just kept coming back.
“Crap,” I whispered. I tried to lift my head to figure out how I could untangle myself from this mess, and when I finally did, two knees came into view. They were pressed together, jutting out over my hips. Hang on, if that wasn’t a knee then . . .
I reached around again and grabbed it once more. Only this time, when I grabbed it I knew exactly what it was. Not a knee. So not a knee.
“Val!” I heard a very surprised voice behind me and felt the bed move as Alex threw himself off it. I pushed myself off the bed too and scrambled to my feet. I looked over at Alex. He was standing on the other side of the bed. His eyes were wide with shock, jaw hanging open, almost to the floor. My eyes drifted down, down, down . . .
Dear Lord! There was some serious morning glory happening over there. He was pitching a full-blown tent in his boxer shorts. My cheeks immediately blazed with a mixture of embarrassment and . . . shit. My palm started to tingle at the memory of being wrapped around all that. And there was just soooo much of it. Alex grabbed a pillow off the bed and covered himself. He cleared his throat and then turned a strange and disturbing shade of red.
There was no misinterpreting this situation. No spinning this a different way to distract from what had really just happened . . . I’d touched his penis! Grabbed it, to be more specific. Held it in the palm of my hand. And what’s more, it had been big and hard and thick and had poked into my shoulder with such force that I swear, it could have almost pushed me off the bed. My eyes drifted down to where the pillow was—would I be a total and utter pervert if I told you that I wanted to see what lay below it? Alex turned sideways, as if he knew what I was thinking.
Oh my God! The reality of the situation suddenly came crashing in and I didn’t know whether to laugh nervously, or run from the room and hide for the rest of the holiday so I didn’t see him again. I could see he was thinking the exact same thing too, as he stood there, cushion covering him, walking sideways now like a crab.
“It’s a very natural reaction for a man in the morning . . .” he stuttered suddenly.
Oh God, I didn’t want to have this conversation. It was just too damn awkward. “So . . . breakfast?” I suddenly declared loudly. Totally changing the subject. Trying to steer the conversation as far away from his big, hard . . . Mmmmm.
“YES!” He almost shouted that. “Yes. That would be a good idea!”
We sat at a table by the beach looking out over the sea. It had been rather awkward between us since the whole “waking up in each other’s arms with a hard-on” thing. We were eating our late breakfast outside today. We’d initially gone to the dining room for the usual buffet, but when we’d walked in and seen what was playing on the TV, we’d both turned and walked straight out.
It would seem that Enigma’s live TV engagement was all the news stations were talking about. The video had gone viral overnight, viewed over ten million times. Now I was just suspicious that the whole thing had actually been a giant publicity stunt. But stunt or not, I could see the effect it was having on Alex. And the effect only got worse when on the way out of the dining room we’d passed a group of girls talking about it . . .
“Oh my God, she’s so lucky.”
“I hope my boyfriend proposes on live TV like that.”
“He’s such a rock god. OMG, you guys, he’s sooooo haawt . . .”
At that, Alex and I took our plates of carbs and strong cups of coffee and headed outside.
Despite the fact that the Danish pastries were surprisingly good that morning, the temperature perfect, the air not too humid and the setting spectacular, we sat and ate in total silence. I sipped my coffee, which was exactly what I needed. The caffeine entered my bloodstream and woke me up instantly. I’d been feeling a little groggy from oversleeping and was grateful for every mouthful of the black elixir. I wanted to say something to Alex, but wasn’t sure what. Should I address the borderline hand-job thing, or address the whole public proposal thing? Both were not easy topics to broach. But before I could decide what to say, and how best to break this silence, something broke it for me.
A loud, piercing scream. I jumped in my seat and my heart thumped, the scream had been so terrifyingly bloodcurdling. I glanced over at Alex, who was sitting up straight. We both looked out to sea, to where the scream had come from, just in time to see an unusually large wave crash against the shore. It was strange to see, because I’d only ever seen a totally flat, calm sea—until now. Another scream. More frantic and desperate this time. I held my hand to shield my eyes from the sun’s rays and scanned the water. Looking for the source of the scream.
The scream was now a shriek. Primal and guttural and one of the most frightening noises I’d ever heard. Alex and I were both on our feet, as was everyone else around us. The screaming voice started saying words, which at first were distorted, but as soon as they became audible, the entire atmosphere on the beach changed.
“My baby!” the frantic voice screeched. “My baby. I can’t find her!” At that, as if an invisible director had just called “Action,” people on the beach started running towards the sea.
“The wave . . . I was holding her . . . but . . . I can’t see her!” the frantic mother wept. “HELP! HELP! MY BABY!!”
Alex and I were swept up in the stampede of men and women rushing towards the water. Everywhere, people were wading in, looking and scanning for the missing child. The sense of panic on the beach and in the air was so palpable that it made me feel sick.
The hysterical mother was now hyperventilating, and looked as if she was about to fall over. A few women had rushed to her side, and were physically holding her up as her cheeks drained of color. Soon, the shallow waters were filled with at least thirty people all rushing around in panic. My heart raced and I felt myself grinding my teeth and wringing my now very sweaty hands together. I had no idea what to do in this situation. I wasn’t like all the others who had immediately jumped into action, instead, all I could do was freeze and stare out over the water hoping to see a child’s head bob up.
But Alex was in the water. He seemed so calm and in charge, and suddenly he seemed to have assumed the role of leader, telling people where to go and look. He was bringing a calm order to the chaos, shouting things like, “Work from left to right. In a grid.”
The fact that Alex seemed so cool and in charge settled my nerves somewhat. But as the time ticked on and the baby still hadn’t been found, I began to think the worst. I could see that everyone else was thinking the same thing too, including the mother. She had fallen to her hands and knees and was praying loudly, clawing at the sand and screaming out things like, “Take me instead, God.” Other women had
also gotten down onto their knees and looked like they were praying.
Then suddenly, another voice could be heard. “I’ve found her. I’ve got her.” Heads turned and everyone looked. A man began running towards the shore carrying what looked like the lifeless body of a toddler. As he ran, her arms and legs flapped as if no muscles controlled them anymore. I’d never seen a dead person before, and I gasped.
“She’s not breathing. She’s not breathing!” the man screamed as he picked up his pace. Another gasp. This time a collective one that came from everyone on the beach. Something caught my attention and I turned to see Alex sprinting over.
“Put her down!” he instructed the man. “I’m a doctor.”
The man placed the little girl’s body down on the sand and then without a second’s hesitation, Alex was on her. He grabbed her wrist and looked at his watch, calculating her pulse. Nothing about him seemed even vaguely panicked, instead it was thoughtful. He put his head to her chest and then suddenly, as if this was one of those reality TV shows, started doing CPR. I’d never seen it done to anyone before in real life, and never to someone so small. It looked so violent, as he compressed her tiny chest and blew into her mouth.
In the distance I could hear the screech of sirens getting closer and closer—someone had obviously had the sense to call an ambulance; the thought hadn’t even crossed my panic-stricken mind.
I moved closer to watch Alex work, a circle of people had gathered round the little girl now, the mother was clutching her hand and her prayers were getting louder and longer. Alex worked with such intense focus, yet total calm. It was as if he’d zoned the entire world out and all that existed was him, and that little girl. He was literally holding her life in his hands and I had never been so swept up in awe with someone before.
And then suddenly, the little girl stirred. Alex immediately sat her up and endless streams of water began spewing out of her mouth. A massive cheer rose from the crowd and the mother pulled her gasping daughter in to her arms. Alex reached for her wrist again and took her pulse once more, nodding as if he was satisfied.
“I need to examine her.” He placed a reassuring hand on the mother’s shoulder and then gently pulled the little girl from her arms. I watched in fascination as he began inspecting the girl’s body, running his hands up her legs, running his fingers over her ribs, checking and inspecting her head. He was so meticulous and I could almost see the cogs in his brain ticking. Finally, the little girl cried out in pain when he reached her left arm.
“Ssshhh, it’s okay,” he said to her gently. “I think you bumped your arm a little, let’s lie you down again.” He gently lowered the girl to the sand and then turned to her mother.
“I think she’s fractured her arm, she’ll need an X-ray, but she’s out of danger now.”
As he’d finished the inspection, the paramedics pushed through the crowd.
Alex immediately started talking. “Her pulse is strong and regular. Possible fracture in the left ulna, would order an X-ray and also get a chest X-ray too to rule out any residual water in the chest.” The paramedics nodded at him. They didn’t need to question who this man was, they could tell he was a doctor. And so could everyone else, that authoritative tone in his voice put him in charge and made you feel safe, as though everything was being handled by him.
And then as quickly as the whole thing began, it was over. The mother and paramedics disappeared with the girl, who was loaded into an ambulance. Everyone on the beach stared after them and watched as the ambulance disappeared around the corner—lights and sirens blazing.
I let out a long sigh, and it was only then that I realized I’d been holding my breath. I turned back and looked at Alex as people descended on him, clapping. Women hugged him, men smacked him on the back and shook his hand and for a moment, he was swallowed up in the crowd.
I stood there, waiting and watching for him to emerge again, and when he finally did, and started walking up towards me, some strange combination of overwhelming emotions rocked me to my core. I was crying. Uncontrollably. I couldn’t quite explain why I was crying; coming down from the shocking rush of adrenalin that had gripped me, the relief of seeing the little girl breathe again, the sheer pride and admiration I had for Alex. It was all just so overwhelming and intense.
“Hey, hey,” he said, approaching me, “she’s going to be okay.”
I threw my arms around him, pulling him into the hugest hug. I buried my face in his neck and continued to cry. I felt his hands come up to my back and stroke it in big, long, soothing circles.
“It’s okay,” he whispered into my ear.
“I’ve never seen anything like that before.” I finally pulled away from him and began wiping my tears. “Now that, that was rock-star,” I said, grabbing his face and without thinking, planting a firm kiss on his lips. “That was literally the most badass, rock-star thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. You just saved a child’s life, it doesn’t get more fucking rock-star than that.” I smiled at him, tears still streaming down my cheeks.
“Really?” His gray eyes lit up. “You think?”
“I fucking know,” I said, maybe a little too loudly.
Alex gave me another smile and then pulled me into a hug.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I don’t know how long we hugged for. It was getting to the point where one of us needed to let go. But for some reason, I just couldn’t let go of him. Everything about this hug felt good and I didn’t want it to end. Finally, after wrestling with myself, I loosened my grip. I pulled away slowly, but instead of moving off, I looked up at Alex. He looked right back down at me, our eyes locking.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hug you for so long,” I said awkwardly and self-consciously, averting my gaze.
Alex shrugged his shoulders and a tiny smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “It felt good.”
“It did,” I agreed, a small smile tickled the corners of my mouth.
“Besides, hugging lowers your blood pressure, lowers your stress hormones and increases your sense of wellbeing,” he said.
“They should be prescribed by doctors,” I said, looking back up at him. His gray eyes looked paler in the bright light of the sun. A dark outline around the iris blended into something that was almost silver in color around the pupil. Apart from being obviously gorgeous eyes, they had such kindness in them too and I felt myself being drawn to look at them. So I did. I only stopped when two men dressed in suits appeared by our sides.
They introduced themselves as the hotel managers and were soon shaking Alex’s hand, grateful that he’d saved the girl’s life. Alex kept humbly saying things like “it’s just my job” but he did accept the complimentary dinner cruise on the yacht that they offered as a thank-you. After they left Alex turned to me.
“Well, at least we know what we will be doing tonight,” he said with a smile.
“You want me to come with?” I asked, surprised by the invitation.
“Of course,” he said sincerely. “But the question is, what should we do with the rest of the day?”
I looked around. “Well, to be honest, I’m not really feeling very beachy anymore.”
“Me neither,” Alex admitted. He picked up our empty plates, as well as my bag, and started walking back to the hotel. “Tell me,” he said over his shoulder, “would I drop in your estimation from rock star to total nerd if I said there was a museum that I wanted to see?”
“A museum?” I smiled to myself. “I’d love to.”
Musée de Villèle was a short taxi drive away from our hotel. I’d read a little about it on the way. It was a former colonial mansion once owned by a prominent and wealthy family in the eighteenth century, set on the remains of what was once one of the biggest sugar plantations on the island, run by hundreds of slaves. That part left me feeling somewhat cold and queasy, but I was still curious to see it.
We finally arrived and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to a museum. But I was looking forw
ard to a change of scenery.
The old plantation house was exactly as I imagined it might be, right down to the colors. Cream walls, yellow trims around the windows and doors and pale blue shutters. And it was huge, standing amidst an old overgrown garden that in its day must have been spectacular. With each step closer, I felt like I was stepping further and further back in time.
“It’s beautiful,” I said to Alex as we reached the entrance.
“I like museums,” Alex said. The tone of his voice had changed somewhat, a kind of reverence hanging in his intonation.
“Really?” I asked. “Sounds like there’s a story in that somewhere.”
He turned and smiled at me as if I was right, there was a story behind his love of museums. “I have a bit of a museum crush.”
“Tell me.” I smiled back at him.
“I find them very calming. Not those big, busy, tourist museums, but the smaller more obscure ones.”
“What do you like about them?” I was curious.
“The silence. Have you ever noticed how people always seem to whisper in them?”
I thought about this for a while and it was true. For some strange reason you did feel compelled to whisper in a museum.
“It’s the one place where time seems to stand still. It’s not about moving forward, it’s about looking back.” He strode ahead of me, entering the front of the museum.
“Why do you like silence?” I asked as we bought our tickets and began our walk around.
Alex stopped and stood next to me. “Would you think I was boring if I told you my ideal evening would be chilling at home quietly? No TV. No phones and computers. Some wine, food, reading a book, going to sleep?”
“Yeah, that’s totally boring,” I said with a playful smile. But truthfully, it sounded really, really nice. My life for the last three years had felt like a chaotic, wild ride of highs and lows and, quite frankly, I wanted off the ride now. I desperately needed a change of pace, and suddenly I quite liked museums.