by Daria M Paus
"You can’t tell me to go!" Her voice rose. "You have no right!"
Before I could get away, she flung herself at me. "You’re mine.” Her hands roamed over my body, pushing their way into my clothes. I tried to move away but she clung to me, forcing herself on me.
"Nancy!"
She didn't listen and for a few seconds of panic, I considered yelling for help, but decided against it. How would that look? Her hand tugged at my belt and, somehow, she managed to open it. She grabbed my shirt and once again buttons flew as she tore it open. I caught her hand before it landed on my chest.
She yelled, so sudden and so loud that it made me freeze. She took the opportunity to snatch her hand free, and with one fluid motion, she tore my shirt off.
I'd had enough. This woman was insane and I was tired. All I wanted was to get her out of my room so I could sleep. Her hands on my skin suddenly made me feel sick.
I grabbed her arm before she had a chance to touch me again. "Get the fuck off of me," I growled. She struggled, and my hand tightened its grip. She screamed for help, stunning me. I couldn't grasp what was happening. She was the one attacking me, yet she shouted at the top of her lungs for someone to rescue her. The sound coming from her mouth made me want to press my hands to my ears. It hurt. Physically. Like my head was going to explode. I wanted my bed. Now.
Her shrieking kept assaulting my ears until I couldn't take it anymore, and in pure desperation, I yelled, "Shut the fuck up!" I dragged her toward the door. "Get out of here."
"Don't touch me!" She yanked her arm free, aimed a swift kick to my stomach, and the sudden blow took my breath away. I felt her hands on me, then a knee to my balls—and I collapsed.
It felt like an eternity of anguish before the pain faded and my mind cleared. She was with me on the floor, and above the sound of her crying, I heard the stir of people and the chatter of voices.
Nancy screamed and sobbed, scrambling away from me. She got to her feet and grabbed her coat. Then she stumbled through the door into the crowd that had gathered outside my room. I was too dazed to understand what was happening.
When Marc finally arrived, I was still on the floor.
He shoved the curious people away amid a stream of curses, and finally, the door slammed shut with a force that shook the entire room. He turned to me and his voice thundered in my ears.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't find the words. I had no idea what had just happened.
"Johnny?" Marc demanded. "What the fuck just happened?"
I shook my head, slowly getting up from the floor. Marc's eyes widened at the sight of my torn shirt and unzipped jeans.
"For God's sake!" he exclaimed. “Do you have any idea what this looks like?" He threw his hands out, shaking his head at my stupidity. “What were you thinking?”
"She—"
"She what?"
I suddenly felt too tired to even stand. Marc still shouted at me, but I couldn't listen to him. I couldn't handle this. My hands trembled as I fumbled with my clothes. Images of Nancy’s naked body flashed before my eyes. Her screams echoed in my head and I felt sick.
“Johnny?"
I stumbled to the couch, collapsing onto it. Leaning forward, I buried my face into my hands.
"Tell. Me. What. The. Fuck. Happened." Marc was in my face, his words carefully emphasized. I managed to nod and finally choked out.
"It's not what it looks like.”
Present Time
Bree
"Is she dead?"
The first sense that came back to me was the hearing. A voice, drowned by a strange high-pitched rustle reached my ears. My first thought was to cover them, to stick my head under the pillow and continue to sleep.
"She's not moving. She's dead, push her out."
Something hard touched my body, forcing it to roll to its side.
Get up, do something! A little voice in the back of my mind urged. I tried to take a breath but burst into a fit of coughs. The pressure abruptly disappeared and my body collapsed.
"Fuck! What to do with her now?" A voice hissed.
With heavy arms and a strange feeling in my belly, I fumbled in the dark to reach the lamp on the bedside table.
"Leave her, let's get out of here."
My heart started to pound. Focus, the voice snapped. I couldn't. My mind was slow as molasses. I couldn't form any coherent thought, or make sense of the growing dread inside. I wanted to scream, to get away from the wet coldness that washed over me. I couldn't breathe; my body sunk and slipped as I moved. Do something, the little voice urged. Get the hell outta here. I sucked in small gasps of breath, desperately trying to assemble any sense of thought or direction.
As I lay there letting out quivering breaths, my head slowly started to clear and everything came back to me in fragments. I coughed, spitting one more mouthful of salty liquid into the dark. My hand trembled when I touched the wet grainy surface I lay on, and everything started to make sense. Images and echoes of screaming strangers filled my head. I curled my fingers, digging them into the sand. The boat accident which I’d been sure would take my life seemed like a distant nightmare. Believing that it had actually happened was as difficult as believing I’d survived it.
Relief gradually filled my senses, replacing the fear. I smiled into the darkness. The smile faded just as fast. The boat, with all of her crew, was gone. I hadn't been able to help any of them, and here I was, all alone on what I could only assume was a desert island. Marooned.
Disbelief crept over me and I shivered for a whole new reason. A bolt of fear ran down my spine. I might be alive at the moment, but for how long? Things like this didn't happen in real life. It felt like I was in some bad movie, thrown into an unfamiliar setting with no preparations or supplies to get by with. Like it was a ridiculous test. I was sure the odds weren’t in my favor.
Making it to my feet, I stumbled farther up the beach, away from the waves. I blinked, rubbing my eyes to clear them from the drips running down my face in a half hearted attempt to see anything but the silhouettes of swaying palm trees in the dark. The deafening sound of the ocean made me want to press my hands to my ears. I wrapped them around my body instead, shielding myself from the wind.
As I stared into the darkness, something caught my attention. A brief flicker of light. It was there one second, and then it was gone.
Just when I thought I’d imagined it—I saw it again. From between the swaying canvas of trees, an unmistakable light peeked through, igniting a small ray of hope in my galloping heart.
Moving toward the light, I noticed a sandy path leading away from the beach. Recklessly I stumbled forward, abandoning all fear in my hurry to get to that welcoming light. With eyes focused on the narrow path, I pressed forward, ducking under heavy leaves, trying not to let the branches slap me in the face.
The woods finally cleared and the sand under my feet disappeared. I stepped onto something darker, which I guessed was grass. And there, farther up on a hill was a house. Several windows were lit up, and I stood there staring at it in awe. I had no idea of where I was, but knowing the boat had sunk many hours out on the open sea, I certainly didn’t expect anyone to be living here.
Another shiver shook my body and I picked up my pace. If there was light there was life. Whoever was crazy enough to live this far out on an island would have to do for now.
1
Starstruck
The dark silhouette of the house towered over me as I stood before it. The light, which had seemed welcoming from the beach, wasn’t as bright up close. From a window, a flickering orange glow seeped beyond the glass against the night. With an uneasy feeling in my belly and hesitant feet, I started to climb the stairs.
I threw an awkward look down the darkened path that I had just arrived on, then turned my gaze back to the house. The stone walls and fenced in patio gave me the impression that whoever lived in this house was rich. But that ain't gonna make him or h
er friendlier, the little voice added. I hesitated. A sudden gust of wind threatened to fling me back down the stairs, and my wet clothes clung to my body. With a shiver, I raised a trembling hand to knock.
The hard wood made my frozen knuckles ache as I tapped against it. When I had waited for what felt like an eternity, I gave the door a few more sharp raps.
"Hello! Anyone home?”
Thoughts raced through my mind. What if no one would come? What if I’d had to stay out here all night? What if—
The door swung open and a man appeared in the doorway.
"Who the fuck are you?” He spoke in such a low voice that it was hard to hear him above the wind.
"I'm sorry!" I began, taking a deep breath before opening my mouth to a somewhat incoherent ramble. “I was . . . my boat . . . there was an accident, then I saw the lights and . . .” I paused to suck in a trembling breath. "And I was hopin' I could come in for a while because it's really cold and I'm wet . . ." My ramblings once again trailed off and I swallowed down a lump in my throat. Why was he staring at me like that?
"Did you follow me here?” he asked after a long silence.
"What?" My mouth formed a little O as confusion swept over me, then it closed, letting out a scoff. What the hell?
"What do you mean? I didn’t—why would I follow . . .”
Tears burned behind my eyes. Was he just going to stare at me? What was his problem?
“Come in." He held the door open and I hesitated before stepping inside. The wind slapped the door shut behind me with a force that shook the house. My heart leaped into my throat and I could barely hold back a scream. Sucking in a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, I looked around. We stood in a hallway. In the dim light, I studied the white walls. A panel of what looked like dark mahogany made a nice contrast to the stark white marble floor. It looked so smooth and shiny that it felt wrong to stand on it, especially with my wet clothes which were creating a puddle around my feet.
To the right, an archway towered over us, and built into the opposite wall was a huge fireplace. In front of it sat a sofa, so nice and warm I had to keep myself from running straight up to it. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep my body from shaking.
Then I finally glanced up at the man. He was taller than my five-foot-three, but not too tall. The first thing I saw in the dim light was his hair, dark and messy, almost touching his shoulders. He's hot, the little voice whispered in my mind, and I scoffed. Judging by what? His hair? I tried to shake the sudden need to touch said hair and forced my eyes to continue their path down his body.
He wore a simple black t-shirt and loose-fitted jeans. Around his neck hung a scarf that reached almost down to his waist.
Letting my eyes travel back up his body to his face, I tried to get a better look at him. As I studied his shadow-ridden features I realized I hadn't introduced myself. Neither had he, and I got the impression he felt as uncomfortable as I did. I flashed him a nervous smile then opened my mouth to speak.
"I'm Brianna, by the way. But you can call me Bree.”
My voice seemed to snap him out of whatever thought he’d been lost in.
"Johnny," he said.
I could smell alcohol on his breath, and his voice was flat and clipped—as if saying his name was something he preferred not to do.
Hearing the name, my mind immediately projected an image of one special Johnny Grey. Hollywood’s hottest actor who I was secretly in love with, and for a short moment I lost myself in the thought. Then I remembered where I was, and snapped out of it, returning my focus to the man in front of me.
He didn’t return my smile and muttered something I couldn’t hear. The message was clear—I wasn’t welcome. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, silently screaming at him to do something. Why was he just standing there?
The seconds dragged by and the silence started to creep me out. I stared at him intently, hoping he would get the point. I was waiting here—a wet and shivering girl on his shiny marble floor. Still, he just stared at me as if he saw straight through me.
“Uhm,” I began. “I’m still here.”
He ran a hand through his hair, and for a moment he seemed so confused I wanted to shake him in frustration. My sudden appearance had caught him off guard, but how hard could it be to show a little courtesy?
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“I’m just goin' to stand here?” I added, not at all regretting the bitchy tone. What an asshole.
“Sorry,” he said. "Let me get you a blanket."
As I stared down the corridor he’d disappeared into, a feeling came over me. The way he looked: the hair, the clothes . . . he did seem somewhat familiar, didn’t he? And that voice . . . that name.
Don't be stupid, my inner voice snapped. There's a lot of people with that name, it doesn't mean anythin'. Still, I couldn't shake the newfound feeling of nervousness.
The man came back after what felt like an eternity, carrying a blanket as he’d promised.
He placed it around my shoulders, expecting me to take it. I couldn't move.
"Are you all right?"
I managed a stiff nod. As he entered the hallway, he'd switched on a lamp, but I knew before even looking at his face who this man was. Slowly I turned my head. What are the odds? I found myself thinking. Of all the islands to be washed ashore on, I ended up on HIS.
My eyes landed on his face and all I could do was stare, wide-eyed, with my mouth hanging open.
He turned an expressionless face toward me. Clearly, he was not surprised by my sudden reaction, and why would he be?
His voice was nothing more than a tired sigh. "Come on." He placed an arm around my shoulders. I followed as if in a trance as he led me down the hallway. Turning left at the end of it he pushed open a door before guiding me into a bathroom that was bigger than a small apartment.
Leaving me standing there, he disappeared again. I heard him in a room close by. He quickly returned carrying a bundle of clothes which he placed on a stool. He pressed a few buttons on what looked like a small pool embedded in the floor, and soon the water started pouring in, filling it with steaming hot bubbles.
"Here.” He gestured toward the tub, “Take a warm bath, get into some dry clothes, then come out when you're ready."
With that said, he left and closed the door behind him. I stared at the water in shock.
You're dead, you're obviously dead, the inner voice suggested. Maybe it was right? Maybe I had drowned and this was heaven? That would somehow seem more logical . . . My eyes scanned the surroundings, landing on the little pile of clothes Johnny had left on the stool.
I finally managed to move. Wriggling out of my black sundress, I let it fall to the floor before quickly sliding into the bath. Throwing multiple quick glances at the closed door, I worried about him coming back. Maybe I should've locked it, even though it wasn't my door to lock. I was a guest. A very unwelcome guest, my inner voice added dryly.
The hot water relaxed my sore muscles and slowed down my pulse enough for me to enjoy the feel of the warmth against my cold skin. As I lay there, my thoughts started to wander and I was once again stunned. If anyone had told me I would end up on Johnny Grey’s private island, I would have laughed. Even more unbelievable—I was alone on said island, with him. HIM, my all-time favorite actor, and let’s admit—the sexiest man alive. It was too crazy to be true. I couldn't wrap my mind around this. I'd seen him, stared at him. I'd heard his voice as he’d talked directly to me. Hell, he'd even touched me, and even though my skin still burned from the contact, I couldn't accept it as my reality. It felt like a dream, or a strange manifestation of my fantasies at the most.
Letting the now cold water and myself out of the tub, I reached for a towel hanging on the nearest wall.
Dry and dressed in my borrowed clothes, I reached for the door, opened it and stepped out into the corridor. As I stood there trying to decide what to do, my belly mass-produced butterflies. A few deep breaths didn’t calm them dow
n. He'd told me to join him, but I was sure it had been out of politeness. The reason he came to this island in the first place was to get away from people, and here I was, invading his privacy when all he wanted was to be left alone. He’d already made that perfectly clear. And you already called him an asshole, the little voice quickly reminded me. I mentally kicked myself for being stupid. Even if only uttering the words mentally, I still felt embarrassed knowing who I’d had such thoughts about.
Shit. This was actually happening.
The reality started to catch up, and in a few seconds, all the late reactions washed over me at once. My legs turned to jelly. I had to lean against the wall for support.
A few steps away from me was one of the most famous people in the world. His face adorned every magazine; he topped the lists of sexiest men of the year, and I could not argue that. He was every girl's dream and the main object of my late-night fantasies.
And he is right here, my mind added. The thought of it made my heart beat faster. Johnny Grey. The Johnny Grey. In person. Alone. With me.
Shit. I reached for my hair, trying to fluff it up, but it was to no use since it was still wet and hanging down my back in a tangled mess. I shook my head at the absurdity. I get to meet the hottest guy on this planet, and I look like I've been chewed up and spat out. It felt like a sick joke. Normally I was proud of my long, red curls that glistened in the sun like a sparkling fire. Just my luck. I looked like shit, I could barely stand, and I hadn’t even gone to see him yet.
The clothes which I had borrowed hung on my body in an unflattering way. They reminded me of what I used to wear at home when I didn't have to worry about looking pretty for anyone but my family and the horses. I sucked in deep breaths to keep from fainting; I desperately wished I could have been better prepared.
Having no other choice, I went to find him. The mere sight of him sitting by the fireplace once again rendered me speechless. The glow from the burning fire gave enough light to see him clearly and I did my best not to stare, and instead focused on the room.