by Karen Botha
“Well, just so you know, she’s not seeing anyone. Those guys she’s chatting to over there are just our work colleagues. They’re like family.” He nudges me and in that moment, I allow myself a glimmer of hope that I have a chance with her as we both glance over to the table where she’s standing, still conscious of trying to iron out the creases in her dress.
With that, he stands and leaves me, seated alone. The music from the band, fades into the background, as I study the way Jessie moves. She’s dismissing some burly chap, who must workout with Kyle, with the flap of one hand. Everyone laughs, including her. But she doesn’t have the same intensity to her amusement as the rest of the group. She smiles, and her lips part a little. They even curl up at the edges. But the twinkle, which was in her eyes earlier, is missing. I dare to believe that what we shared was real and not a fleeting moment of fun between two consenting adults.
Jessie
I’m told the toilets are past the bar, and down a hill, toward the lake. The sun has dropped and my way is lit by fairy lights which glitter either side of the path.
I guess you can’t have a simple wedding, on your own private island, without the toilet situation being primitive. I am however, impressed. Yes, they’re Port-a-Potties, but they’re better than the ones we use during the race season. They’re clean for a start, and they flush; there’s even enough toilet paper. I’m a happy girl. Although I’m sure the haze of one too many champagnes helps.
Before I head back up to the party, something about the sky catches my attention and I take a moment to look up.
I’m mesmerized.
I’ve never seen a sky like this, and it’s not like I haven’t traveled the world. But this is different. The backdrop of midnight velvet is chock full of stars. I guess that’s not surprising. We are away from all pollution, but the sheer quantity, depth, and scale takes my breath away and steals every thought from my overactive mind.
I notice a gradient to the lighting, clusters where the stars are brighter and the backdrop less dark. These are the same stars that greeted the ancients, the same ones that will still shine bright in millions of years. An awareness of my own mortality trickles down my spine. It’s not an earth shattering feeling that plunges me into despair, but it is enough to drag my awareness back to the here and now, to the importance of making the most of the lives we have.
I feel it, before I see him. A sixth sense, bristles the back of my neck and although I don’t move from craning up at the beauty of the night sky, I’m no longer transfixed. Intuition tells me to remain still, to not yet show my hand; but the urge to turn and see exactly what, or who, is the cause of my sudden fretfulness is overpowering until I can resist no longer.
I sigh, when I take the plunge, and look to see who is with me in the dark. But, there’s no one, it must have been one of those rare moments, where I fret at the unknown, for no other reason than being alone.
But, as I turn on my heel to leave the peace of the stratosphere to return to the man-made twinkling of the party, I sense it again. An eeriness which leaves the stars in the sky, allowing only the black to envelop me. As I look over my right shoulder, I don’t have time to take in any features as one hand covers my mouth, the other simultaneously blocks my vision.
I stumble from the weight of him pushing against me, slamming me against a tree. A sharp half branch burns into my thigh, but the warmth which runs down my leg isn’t painful, more comforting that I’m alive. Because, at the forefront of my mind is the need to fight for my survival.
The acidic smell of alcohol on his breath makes me heave, I push it out of my mind, concentrate on something, anything other than this guy being fired up with an overinflated sense of bravado. His head is next to mine and his breathing is fast and heavy. He feels light, but he may not be the fittest. I have a chance. I work out with the guys, and they are big.
I can do this.
My body tenses of its own accord, every muscle fiber gathering strength, each sinew adding to my armor. And then with a force I didn’t know I possess, I force myself against the tree, shoving my attacker backward until in his drunken state, he loses his balance. Toppling on the floor, my assailant, a tall, blond, skinny guy with angular features, hits his head on a rock. I watch in slow motion as it bounces before settling to the side, his mouth gaping open.
He’s not moving. Panic rises in my gut as I stand back, hand to my chest, wondering what on earth I’m supposed to do about this. I’m in a foreign country; how will this go down? I have no witnesses to stand by me and back up my story of self-defense.
“Hey.” Someone grabs me from behind.
The shock needles fear into every nerve of my spine.
I bolt forwards.
But the touch is softer. Even in my heightened state, I know this, but I fight nevertheless, breaking free from the grasp of the arms around me.
“Let me go!” My voice is hoarse, and it cracks. It’s only now that I realize I’ve been screaming.
Zac steps back, holds both hands up. “It’s OK. It’s only me. I’m not going to hurt you.” His outstretched hands drop so they’re parallel with the ground. “I saw what happened, but I couldn’t get here quickly enough. I was at the top of the banking when he came out of the bushes.” He points toward the direction of the party.
I hesitate, then walk into his embrace and he cradles me against him. He’s warm against the chill of the night and as I allow myself to melt into his arms, I swear our souls connect as time stands still.
“Are you OK? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” he whispers. I move my head to speak so we’re both staring at the guy stretched out on the damp pine needles. His body is angled all wrong, his head lolling to one side as blood starts to pool in a puddle under his skull.
“I’m fine. Just a bit shaken.” I nod, my breath starting to calm in the safety of Zac’s hug.
My attacker moans, thankfully coming around and holding his head. He’s still no threat, and it’s the oddest of feelings, standing over him, watching the flaccid figure who only a few minutes before had threatened my safety.
“I don’t recognize him from the party, do you?” Zac asks.
I shake my head. “No, I haven’t seen him about.” I can’t believe how faint my voice is. How brittle I feel, and yet how secure Zac’s light embrace is.
Other guests are starting to rush down, and the boys gather around me in a protective huddle. Zac releases his arms, but I remain with my back leaning against his torso, still needing to feed from his strength.
“What happened?” Ryan shouts, grabbing the guy and pulling him up to standing position by his top. It rips with the force Ryan engages. The guy is like a puppet in his huge hands. I’ve never noticed how huge before and he easily grasps him with one hand while he balls the other into a fist. And I feel nothing. No guilt that the stranger is about to be pummeled on my behalf. And when Greg grabs Ryan’s arm as he swings it back ready to punch, my heart sinks a little that Ryan’s fist won’t ever connect.
“Don’t do it. He’s not worth getting in trouble for,” Greg says.
“Nah, Jessie did a good enough job on her own.” Kyle teases as he trots down the banking.
Ryan shoves my attacker again, depositing him in a heap on the ground, before turning to Zac. “I don’t know what you were doing leaving a girl to look after herself.” He spits on the ground at Zac’s feet and even through the fog of being hit with too many emotions all at once, I can stills sense that there’s something not quite right about the way Ryan is acting.
Jessie
The guy, it turns out, is a new freelancer from the city who had been noted by his colleagues as drinking from the glasses he was supposed to be distributing to guests. The catering firm are surprisingly efficient, and it takes a minimal amount of effort to have him detained and then put on the speedboat back to the mainland. Zac and I both give accounts of my attack and he’s dispatched off on the back of a police boat, never to be seen again.
The mood of
the party has, however, taken an understandable hit.
“Look you’ve cut your leg. Let me help you.” Zac rips a piece from his t-shirt and wipes it with the gentlest of touches over the blood seeping from my thigh. Despite the throbbing, his contact, even through a piece of cotton, sends shivers of excitement into places I’ve decided will not react to him.
“Hey, it’s fine. Leave it, mate. I’ll do it. I’m a first aider.” Ryan bustles in, rubbing his hand through his russet waves. He started the afternoon looking so unlike the Ryan I know from work, way smarter. But some people just can’t maintain tidiness, and now, his hair has fallen floppy around his face, dusting off my attacker has loosened his shirt from his shorts.
Zac silently moves aside for Ryan to take over. Already I miss his touch. Ryan’s is less gentle and now the fabric grazes the spot which had felt so sweet seconds earlier. A breeze picks up, chilling my skin.
I kick myself for my reaction. Zac is a player. How can I allow such intense emotions toward him? He will only ever hurt me.
In the end, all the bothering around me is too much for me to handle. They’re treating me like I’m made of china. “Come on, I’m fine. I’ve been through worse than this on the road with you lot. Let’s get on with the party and stop this whole episode from ruining the wedding. Elliott and Kyle have overcome way more than a brush with a misfit loitering by the toilets to get here today, and they deserve to have a fabulous time.”
So, at my insistence, we all decide to get back to partying and not let the jerk drag us down.
I don’t know if it’s because of the mood, which although improving is still strained, but Ryan is eyeing Zac with the skepticism of an analyst encountering an artist.
Zac senses it too. “Jessica. Are you ready for a dance?” He holds out a hand which I take. His skin is chilly, but his touch is warm as his fingers encase mine in a hold which sends tingles down my spine.
I play it cool, nodding in response to his question as I stand a gentle smile playing on my lips betraying the gaggle of thoughts racing round my head. Truth be told, I’m not sure I am ready for a dance. I will not be writhing around the dance floor like his earlier conquest, especially not in front of all the guys from work. My confidence has taken a low blow today. Despite all of his rescuing prowess, I will not be forgetting in a rush how unceremoniously he dumped me earlier.
“When are you leaving the island?” I ask for the sake of easing my tension as we move up the banking, slipping awkwardly on the mud.
“Well, tonight like everyone,” he answers.
“Ha-ha very funny, didn’t know you were a comedian on the side! My mistake. When are you flying back home?” He grins, our banter having the required effect and the tension which has held my shoulders up around my ears, eases.
“I’m hoping to take the week along with everyone else. You?” We reach the top and there’s an awkward moment where we reluctantly release hands. Strolling along, not touching, we remain so close that I can feel him breathe.
I could do a little jig as my chest puffs out. That’s more than enough time for us to become properly acquainted. I forget that I’m not supposed to be interested in him. My smile wavers at the thought of us spending an entire week together. “I’m planning the same, work permitting of course.”
The music from the band is getting louder as we near the core of the celebrations and he raises his voice when he replies, “I have my own company so I have the freedom to come and go, but the reality is I never switch off. I’ve prepared for this trip for a few weeks so hopefully the team will be able to deal with anything which comes up in my absence, but you can't be certain.”
This would be my perfect chance to find out what he really does. But I don’t. I have no idea why I don’t seize the opportunity to find out more about this man who, despite my best intentions, is quickly capturing my heart. Instead, I’m more concerned with tuning into how he grips my hand again when we approach a steeper bank. It has the effect of calming my nerves while at the same time setting them on edge, eagerly awaiting something more.
I don’t speak any of these thoughts, but they bubble away at the same time as the throbbing in my chest. As he pulls me up a little harder than I needed, I fall against him. When our eyes lock, I’m hit between the eyes in that split second where I can't deny the truth. I’m not imagining that he feels the same, that the intensity which burns is for me. I watched him so closely with that girl earlier, he did not look at her in this way, with his emotions swimming as near to the surface as mine. This is real.
But instead of doing exactly what my heart is telling me, my brain kicks in. I remove my arms from around his waist, where they’d automatically fallen, swallow the lump in my throat and stride ahead toward the party, full of independence which twelve hours earlier wouldn’t have been so fake.
Zac
I missed a moment. I had an opportunity, but I didn’t respond quickly enough and now she’s dancing away from me, spinning and wiggling with her hair splaying out as she zones into her own world.
She jiggles with her back to me, giving me a wonderful view of her rear end. As she broadens her step towards the dance floor, the wide slit of her dress splays open and I see just a sliver of creamy un-tanned flesh. A private part of her, not usually on display. I snap away my eyes, struggling to focus my brain on anything else.
I will the bulge in my pants down.
Now is not the time to be approaching her with a demonstration of how super hard I can get in the blink of an eye. Instead, I study the ground, concentrate on the earthy dance floor and take an unhealthy interest in the discarded pine cones, rotting quietly alone in the shade. They’re emanating a musty smell which combines with the freshness of the outdoors.
Thankfully, all this over consideration means that by the time the music is loud again and we’re back at the party, my pants have reduced to an acceptable size.
And then she turns and winks.
A grin spreads over her face, and any uncertainty has evaporated. My heart soars because she knows we missed that moment too. But also because I’ve been eyeing her all afternoon and not once have I seen her so much as scratch her eye, let alone wink at anyone else.
Elation streams into my blood like a hot shower on a winter’s morning. My step develops a spring as I pull on her hand and spin her around. As she twirls, those gorgeous brown curls once again fly out in all directions, catching the dim glow of the fairy lights. The red tinge of her hair radiates from her like an aura. As she pirouettes, before connecting our bodies again and locking us together. Her mouth spreads wide in a huge smile which illuminates the party brighter than any bulb.
Our sudden proximity takes both of us by surprise. The tension that has been rumbling along under the surface of our polite conversations swells like a wave crashing around my ears. The rest of the celebration fades out. This capsule of time is just me and Jessie, and the thinnest slivers of material barring our flesh from touching.
She feels it, too. Her chest sucks air in against mine as her neck allows her head to tilt back and those eyes... I ignore the spark which ignites in my pants, shove it away from my brain making a conscious effort to look past those deep pools of feminine temptation. I will my gaze to land on a less enticing view, but everywhere I look is at her. I’m unable to pry my gaze from her beauty.
She pushes away from me, still hiding. “Spin me again, we’re good at this rock-and-roll lark.” Her voice is breathy.
But once again, the moment is broken. I can sense she feels the same. But yet, she still forces me away.
My arm has fallen limp, so she holds it up, spinning herself underneath. She turns again, allowing me a glimpse of her slim waist above the curve of her hips as the fabric of her outfit wafts. I lock down the image in my brain, save it for future reference, so at any time, I can return to this moment. So I can return to her slim figure, elongated under her arm, the material of her dress pinching in at her midline as she twists, the thin textures ruffli
ng in the wind to display more of the body I crave.
She’s back against me, but this time she doesn’t hang around. In an instant, she’s pushed off against me again. This time she uses both arms, holding them out for me to grab her outstretched fingers and move backwards and forwards.
I do as she asks several times, I notice the group of guys she was seated with earlier starting to gather around the perimeter of the area, beers held in one hand, their conversations run dry.
It’s my chance. No more messing around.
And so, the next instant her body presses against mine, I hold her, gripping around her waist and pull her into me. She’s hot from the dancing and her heat glows through my clothes through to my core. I pull her closer, my embrace firm and as I leave one arm around her middle, and raise the other up to rest between her shoulder blades. By enfolding her in my arms, I prevent her from leaning away from me. I resist her tension as she pulls back. The smile on her face changes. It’s still there, but it softens, her lips swell and her eyes change from startled to relaxed.
This is my moment and it’s in front of everyone. She is allowing me to stake my claim.
I lean in.
Jessie
My skin tingles where he’s touching me. No. It’s burning under his hands. The way he’s holding me is firm. He’s not threatening, just secure, and it’s intoxicating. I’ve not felt safe in so long, only ever having myself to rely on, and now this stranger holds me in a way that connects with me on every level. My soul is somersaulting, sending erratic rushes of blood to every extremity. As his face comes nearer to mine, my focus swims. The intensity when I close my eyes heats up. I can hear a beat thundering so hard that I fear my heart may well fly out of my chest. Except that it can’t, because my breast is pressed up tight against his.