by Trinity Wood
When I get to Sam’s car, I look through the window. He’s fallen asleep, head back, auburn hair peeking from under the cap, strong arms crossed, mouth slightly open. He looks so vulnerable, so tender. I think I'm more than halfway to falling in love with him, and it’s only the second time I've met him. I’m treading dangerous waters.
“Hey.” I touch his arm through the open window and speak gently, trying not to startle him. He opens his eyes, realizes where he is, and jumps out to open the door on my side.
I don’t make any move to get into his car, instead I take two steps towards the gate. “How about we take a walk to a place down here on the beachfront? Not far, maybe five minutes’ walk.”
He's unsure for a moment, then leaves his car and locks it, pulls his cap further down his face, and adjusts his sunglasses. “Let’s do this.” He looks like he’s getting ready for battle. I’m curious why he’s on edge.
We walk side by side towards the beachfront, and I wonder if he’s going to try holding my hand. After how he left on Sunday, I doubt it.
“So what have you been up to?” I keep my tone light, no reproach. The implication is there, in the background. Will he take the bait though?
“I’ve been up North with the team, training.” With the cap covering his face, and his dark sunglasses shadowing his eyes, I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
A family with two teen boys point at us excitedly and make their way towards us. Sam must have noticed them as well. He tenses up, his jaw sets, and he touches the small of my back. I haven't seen him like this.
An older man, probably the dad, steps forward, a star-struck grin on his face. “Sam! Sam Northcroft! You’re a legend, mate. The boys want to be just like you. They’ve been sailing since they were five years old. Can we have a photo, please?” The dad is so excited, and I can’t help but feel so happy they get to meet one of their idols.
Sam poses with them. “Well done, boys. Keep at it!” He take my hand and starts walking fast.
I can barely keep up. “Slow down, please. Your legs are longer than mine.”
He relaxes slightly and walks slower, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.
“This is why you weren’t keen on walking, isn’t it? You don’t like being recognized."
“It’s all part and parcel of what I do. Much easier with you around, though." He shrugs, but his words make me feel like I'm floating on a raft at speed.
***
Ellie
We reach the beachside bar, and he’s recognized yet again. He asks for a private
booth at the back, as far away from the entrance as possible, and they indulge him. I order a glass of rose wine, and he orders a ginger beer.
Only after the waitress has left, no doubt to tell everyone in the kitchen about us, does Sam take off his cap and sunglasses. His eyes are the same hue as a stormy ocean. He places a hand above mine on the table. He’s got large sailor hands, rough and calloused. I shiver, remembering last weekend when his hands were all over me.
The waitress returns with our drinks, and silence hangs above us like an invisible thread.
He leans close. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I thought it was for the best.” His voice is low, nearly a whisper. “I missed you.” He squeezes my hand.
I try to catch a glimpse of the truth in his eyes. He holds my stare with an intensity I've seen before, when we first met. It happened only last weekend, but it feels like a lifetime.
He lifts my hand to his lips and slowly kisses it. “In the short time we’ve known each other, I’ve never seen you at a loss for words. Unlike me.”
He’s affecting me so much, I need to clear my head. “Is this how it’s going to be? You’re going to look for me when you want to get me in bed, and the rest of the time, you’ll be a stranger?” I blurt out, unable to contain my feelings any longer.
He draws back, shell-shocked. I don’t know what he expected but this definitely wasn’t it. He’s going to withdraw from me again. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I don’t know what to say. Corey would tell you all the right things, and you’d forgive him in an instant.” He looks down and smiles bitterly. “He’s a lucky bastard.”
“I don’t want Corey. I want you.” And as soon as I say the words, I know them for truth. All we’ve got between us is one night of hot sex and one week apart, but one look in his eyes and touch of his fingers, and I know I want him.
He looks up at me with renewed hope.
“But I don’t want to be messed around with. If we’re dating, we’re dating. If we’re not dating, we’re not dating.” Not sure that I’m using the right words for what I’m trying to convey.
But he gets it. “We’re dating. And I’ll let you know in advance when I’m going away. And I’ll find a way to get in touch with you.” He looks serious and determined.
“Ok, let’s do this.” I lean over and kiss his nose. He laughs and pulls me in for a kiss on the lips.
“Shall we get food here, or …” I ask in between kissing and nibbling on his lower lip.
“How about we go to my house for dinner? I can make some sushi.” He gives me a hot look while stroking my hair.
“No fucking way. You know how to make sushi?” Is there an end to this man’s skills? “Do you sing? What other talents do you have?”
He laughs heartily. “Come home with me, and I’ll show you.”
Now I'm really weak at the knees. We pay for our drinks and head back to his car, hand in hand.
“Where’s your car? Back at the school? Do you want to follow me?” he asks all of a sudden. How thoughtful of him.
“I park down by the lake, about 15 minutes away. It’s free.” I raise my shoulders apologetically. “I’ll leave it there tonight and bus my way in tomorrow.”
He seems to think about it but doesn’t say anything. We get in his spaceship of a car again, but this time he’s in the driver’s seat, so different from last time we were together. His hand caresses my thigh from time to time, and I feel a rush of excitement coupled with apprehension move through me. I met someone - a man I could love.
***
Sam
With Ellie by my side, the windows down, and the sea air rushing past as we drive over the bridge, I’m feeling like the luckiest man alive.
I don’t know why I suggested we make sushi. I’ve made it once before in my life, and it was edible but not stellar. I suppose I just wanted to get her into my space, make her presence and light fill the empty corners of my house.
I’m absolutely exhausted. We trained in the morning, then started heading down to Auckland by morning teatime. After four long hours, I was back home. Showered, put on some fresh clothes, and drove straight away to the Shore to Cheeky Monkeys. And to Ellie. I feel like I've been running on a surge of adrenaline all day.
The moment I saw Ellie again I felt much she’s come to mean to me in such a short period of time. It’s not even been a week, and she’s occupying my thoughts like no one else before her.
She’s dressed in leggings and a baggy t-shirt that completely hides her figure. She could be wearing a rubbish bag and I would still want her.
We’re cruising slowly on the streets of Bella Vista, the old suburb I live in. She must be taking in the surroundings because she’s gone quiet. I don’t think she expected that I’d live somewhere like this. When we get closer to my house, the garage door opens, and I reverse in.
“Fancy digs.” She’s unreadable, a mystery to me.
I pick up her hand, and lead her in through the side door, into the hallway, past the bedrooms, and into the open-plan living kitchen area.
She looks around, touches the sofa cushions, the edge of the kitchen counters. “Beautiful home you have here.”
“It’s from 1910. Practically ancient when it comes to New Zealand homes.” My remark seems to put her at ease. “Would you like something to drink? Some more wine maybe?”
“What do you have?” She glides closer, and I show her my wine fridge.
/>
“A wine fridge? Sam.” She looks at me like I've sprouted two heads then leans down to examine the bottles.
I don’t know what to say. Again. Ellie has me tongue tied. She picks out a bottle of Prosecco. “I think this one will work best with sushi.”
Shit. We were going to make sushi. I totally forgot. What's in the pantry? Rice. Soy sauce. Do I have fish? Yeah, fish in the fridge. Avocado. Okay. We can make this work.
I lay everything on the counter. “Let’s make some sushi then.”
Ellie prepares the rice while I slice the rest of the ingredients. As the rice cools down, I show her the outside area. It's small. No big lawns, just some loungers on the deck, a BBQ in the corner, and a dipping pool.
She extricates herself from my embrace. "I just need to make a quick call to let Tayla know I'm not around."
Without her in my arms, I feel strangely bereft. I go to check on the rice.
While on the call, her eyes take in the sights in the fresh evening air, and I imagine her living here, with me. Daisy, too, of course. My yard isn't as big as the one she has now. We would have to move house, perhaps. What the hell am I thinking? Playing house with a girl I've just met. Sure, I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about her, but she's not my future, the ocean is-the Olympics, the Sanders Cup. I can't give it my all if I'm at the mercy of a woman. Settling down is a route to trouble. I can’t keep these parts of my life separate. Can I?
***
Sam
Ellie comes back, stands on her tiptoes, and kisses the side of my neck and jaw.
"The rice is cool enough. Now it's time to throw everything in and roll." My hands are shaking. Does she know the effect she has on me?
We roll the sushi, and I try to slice it into equal pieces, a task which at this time is as difficult to do as steering a ship through a storm. Her nearness makes it impossible to focus on anything else.
"Looks great! I'm ravenous." She picks up a piece with chopsticks and dips it in soy sauce.
I don't trust my hands to be steady enough for chopsticks this evening, so a fork it is. I stab two pieces at once and start eating.
Her eyebrows shoot up at my use of a fork, and her laughter fills the house. She tries to pinch me with the chopsticks. I put down my fork and start chasing her around the house to get the chopsticks off her.
I don't know how long it's been since I've laughed with all my heart like this. Probably since I was a child, playing with my brother and Thea in O'Neill's Bay.
Using my larger size to advantage, I finally catch her, and we tumble onto the sofa. We start kissing with more urgency, riding waves of desire. I want to explore every inch of her, make her mine again. I can't believe I've lasted five days without hearing her voice, touching her, being in the same room as her.
She frees her dark hair from her ponytail, and it fans out onto the cushions. Tonight, I'll worship her body until she burns for me.
She takes off her oversized t-shirt, and pulls her leggings down her slim, tanned legs. I'm nearly drooling by this point. She's wearing some white plain cotton underwear that I'm dying to take off. I struggle to unclip her bra and curse my big hands. She sighs softly and helps me out. I cup her breasts, and place gentle kisses on her collarbone, the outline of her breast. Her nipples are begging for attention, so I rub my face stubble on them. She moans, and I struggle to keep a firm hold on my sanity.
Slowly, I kiss her belly, then slip her undies off, exposing her pussy. My rough stubble touching her thighs must make her feel extra sensitive. I take a first taste, she's divine. Ellie's moaning and whispering my name. I start licking and sucking her clit, and as her thighs tremble, I know she's ready to come for me. She cries out my name and comes hard.
I'm so hard, I'm ready to explode. I pick her up from the sofa and carry her in my arms to the bedroom. I place her gently on the bed, take my clothes off as I'm racing the clock, put on a condom, and slide inside her.
Ellie feels so good, like she’s meant for me. Try as I might, I can't hold it in too much longer, so I claim every last bit of her.
Chapter 5
Ellie
One Week Later
The box of crayons crashes with a clatter, sending its contents scattering across the floor. I stop mid-read, and the other kids all turn to the activity table, where a red-faced Oscar hides his hands behind his back.
I put down The Very Merry Pony and bustle towards the child, tripping on some stray LEGO blocks.
"I'm … sorry, Ellie. I'm c-c-clumsy." Oscar wipes his freckled forehead with his sleeve, his stutter returning.
I crouch down and touch his shoulders, smiling as reassuringly as I can. "It's okay, Oscar. It happens to me all the time. Isn't that right, kids?" I turn to the others, who nod at me, giggling.
Some of Oscar's tension has passed, and he's smiling back at me with a gap-toothed grin.
"Anyway, it's tidy up time. We have a VERY important guest coming today, and everything needs to look good."
I start putting away books and LEGO blocks. The other kids help Oscar put away the crayons. "Great work, kids. Ka pai, tamariki. Now tell me, can you guess who's coming to see us now at mat time?"
The kids shout various answers, making each other laugh. Their little individual voices blend into one loud noise.
"The Prime minister! The Queen! My mom! A potato!"
The potato guess makes me laugh just as much as them. "Some good guesses there, kids, but no. Our special guest today is a sailor for our country's national team, and he's going to tell us all about what it's like to sail on a boat."
I put a seat for myself in the corner, and all the kids hurry after me, sitting cross-legged on the mat.
I gesture to the door. "His name is Sam. Let's call out his name and see if he's ready. One, two, three …"
Ten voices erupt into a single cry. "Saaaaaaaaam"
Sam leans into the door frame, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The apprehension in his eyes is like a dam, holding his feelings in place, locking them inside a blue-gray pool.
I gesture to the seat in the middle. "Come on in, Sam. We don't bite, do we, kids?"
The kids giggle, and Sam opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, strides towards the chair that's clearly too small for him and squeezes his large frame into it. He waves to my preschoolers, a lopsided smile in place. "Hi, kids. How's it going?"
This looks like it's going to be a tough gig for Sam. He's fidgety, one foot already tapping. In some ways, Sam reminds me of Oscar with his short attention spans, so I try my best to put him at ease. "Tell us about yourself, Sam. What do you like about sailing?"
A small voice breaks through. "And what's your favorite shark?"
Sam leans back and starts laughing, visibly relaxing, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Oh boy, nobody's ever asked me what my favorite shark is. Let me think. Which one's your favorite?"
Lucie shakes her blond pigtails, and her pink rimmed glasses fall down her nose. "I like Sand Tiger sharks because they have stripes, just like a real tiger. Rawr!"
Her roar catches Sam unawares, and he laughs again. The dam of wariness behind his eyes crumbles. Sam lifts his eyebrows. "That's … something. I like Hammerhead sharks. They look very cool up close."
The kids gasp in wonder."You've seen a shark up close!"
"I've seen many sharks. They had biiiiig mouths and lots of teeth." Sam shows a big mouth with his hands, and the kids gasp again.
"How did you see the sharks? Did you fall out of your boat?" Oscar's eyes are as big as saucers, and his mouth is forming a perfect O shape.
When I asked Sam last week to come meet my preschoolers at daycare, I thought I'd have to cajole him into it. He's not the most social person, and a classroom full of noisy kids is challenging for most people.
Instead, Sam surprised me by taking my hand, kissing it, and saying "Sure," like I'd just asked him to watch something else on Netflix, not spend half an hour of his time with Presc
hool kids. "Anything... for you," he’d added, still holding my hand. And I fell in love with him a little bit. Ok, maybe a little bit more.
His eyes sparkle while he talks animatedly about sharks, sailing, and the ocean to four year-olds, and my heart swells.
"...and when you're a bit older you can sail around the world in a boat." Sam beams at the kids, and they take in every word.
Oscar props his head with his hands, pondering something. "My grandpa told me sailors have a sweetheart in every port. Do you have a sweetheart in every port?"
Oh, shit. Oscar's grandpa and his wisdom is going to unsettle Sam, and it's going so well … I turn to look at Sam, but he chuckles, and shrugs. "Nah, no sweethearts."
His words are like a frozen claw squeezing my heart, and I shiver. Did he just say that? My self-esteem isn't great at the best of times, and hearing him dismiss any relationship between us, even if it's just to my kids, makes me take a deep breath. To avoid a cry-fest in front of the kids, I jump out of my seat like a jack-in-the-box, a wide smile plastered on my face. "Our special guest needs to leave now because he has a busy schedule, and it's lunch time."
Sam gets up from the too-small chair and stretches his long limbs. "See you later, kids. Be kind to your teacher." He winks at them and looks sorry to go. A sad smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
Chloe's messy bun pops from behind the door. "Ellie, you show our guest out, I'll help the kids with their lunch boxes." Chloe floats through the door in a wave of incense and flowery fabric, winking at me as she passes. She waves at Sam from a distance, and he waves back with a bemused expression, one eyebrow arched.
Sam and I walk in silence out the classroom door. We're side by side, and I'm imagining the worst possible scenarios, like is this his very unconventional way of telling me we're over? I steal glances at his profile, and he's so calm and collected, like he's got his outside mask on again.