He slides back into the hot water, meeting her at one of the corners of the pool so they are perpendicular to each other. “Look—let’s not do what people usually do in this type of situation.”
Melissa reels through the possibilities and asks, “Wait—clarify that.”
“Look, we’re all young. We’re all on vacation.”
“I’m not—I’m working,” Melissa says defensively.
“Oh, right now?” He looks amused.
“No, not at present, but I will be in a few short hours. Mere moments and I’ll be slaving away chopping chestnuts or honing my skills as a zester of all things citrus.”
The guy rolls his eyes and raises his hands. “Enough talk of food. I still have a full stomach from dinner.”
“Fine.” Melissa grins, enjoying the repartee. “Explain what you mean.”
“Say we were back home—wherever that place is in your mind. You meet, you exchange a few snarky lines, and then choose.” He points left with one finger. “This way leads to the random hookup.”
“And this way?” Melissa asks, still grinning, and pointing in the opposite direction.
“That way leads to ‘Can I meet your friend?’”
Melissa sighs. “If you saw me arrive with my friend, Dove, you should know—she’s off-limits. She’s got a boyfriend.” Of course his interest is piqued by sweet, blond Dove. Not the one who borrows her suit. Not that I care anyway, right?
The guy shakes his head and reaches an arm out onto the stone wall so it nearly touches Melissa’s. “No, wait, that’s not what I mean.” He lets a noise out through his lips that sounds like a tire expelling air. “Let’s just use this—forgive the lame attempt at poetry—veil of night to just say whatever it is that comes to mind.”
Melissa absorbs his words and nods. “Okay. So … no introductions, no formalities, no need to proclaim feelings or phone numbers?”
“Exactly.” He rests his palms on top of the water’s surface, feeling its heat.
They sit not saying anything until Melissa cracks up. “Well, this is going well.” She tugs at her straps, wishing she could pull them off to stop their cutting into her.
The guy looks around. Oh, great, now he does want to leave, Melissa thinks. The only guy on this island who has caught my eye so far, and I’m scaring him away. “So, my uncle once passed out at a hot springs.”
The tension breaks and he stares at her, listening. “Oh yeah?”
“True. Some people freak out. That’s why all the signs say enter at your own risk …” Melissa finds herself blathering away, not editing her rambling words. “Especially if you have heart problems—which I do, but not in the way that the people who posted the signs mean.”
He leans back against the wall, slinging both arms onto it, exposing his shoulders. “Well, what are yours?”
Melissa watches him, enjoying each ticking second with him, wondering if he knows they’d spoken before on the dock. I could tell him, she thinks. Or will that go back to what he was saying about typical situations? She decides against it, preferring instead the anonymity they’ve established. “My what?”
“Your heart problems.” He cups his hand in the pool, squirting water up like a whale’s spout.
“Oh … nothing.” Melissa balks at the idea of spilling her woes—her time in the Alps with Gabe that amounted to his leaving her. Even spying this guy from afar sounds lame if I say it out loud.
“Your face doesn’t make it seem like nothing.”
“It’s just—it sounds clichéd.” Melissa thinks back to her first kiss with Gabe, on top of a mountain in the snow—a million miles away from here, it seems. He was just a guy. A guy she knew and wouldn’t see again unless she happened to show up in Norway or Sweden or Austria. Considering her tropical whereabouts, unlikely.
“Do you really believe that or are you just saying it to gloss over murky water?” He pulls himself all the way out of the water, gives her the one-minute sign, grabs something from the massage hut and sprints back, his feet making slapping sounds on the stone. “Here.” He hands her a tall plastic glass filled with water.
“Is this pink?” she asks.
“Yes. Rose water and hibiscus tea. Made special for the hot springs.”
“Aren’t you just a veritable fountain of knowledge?” Melissa sips at the drink, then pauses. “How do I know you didn’t spike this or do something evil?”
He removes her fingers from the glass, giving her the briefest experience of skin-to-skin contact with him, then takes a big swig. “Satisfied?” He looks at her. “I’m not a creep.”
“So how do you know what this concoction is?”
For the first time, he looks caught off guard. He chews his lower lip and pauses. “Just a good guess, I suppose.” He dips his foot in the springs and then plunges in again. When he resurfaces he adds, “And don’t for a second think I’ve forgotten about you glossing over your heartache issues.” He waves to a few people walking by.
Melissa looks at them, thinking she recognizes a laugh. She looks deeper into the darkness and shouts, “Harley?”
Through the dimly lit air, Harley waves, smiles, and points to the back of a guy wearing knee-length tropical print shorts and no shirt and holding a hula hoop. With her excited bounce and grasp on the guy’s shoulder, she makes it clear to Melissa that this is the guy she was talking about—or was refusing to speak of—at Pulse. As Harley, the guy, and a small group of people head to one of the more remote spring pools, the guy slings his arm around Harley and kisses her cheek. Melissa takes a good look at this boy, his easy stride, his hair—bright blond at the ends even in the dark—and wonders what about him makes Harley so into him. They disappear into the thick brush.
“I guess you can’t ever really figure out what makes someone like one person and the next person like someone else,” Melissa says, speaking so softly it’s almost as though she’s talking to herself.
Her water companion sloshes through the steamy pool and considers this. “This sounds like the kind of statement you make when you can’t quite deal with love, lust, or anything in that genre.” He swipes his wet hands through his hair, drawing attention to smooth skin on his forehead, the gleam in his clear eyes. He looks at Melissa. “Are you over something, under something, or trying to be?”
It’s true, Melissa says, trying out the sensation. Gabe was just a guy. And it’s over. And I’m here. In a hot spring with a gorgeous guy who could make a girl drool in a thousand different ways. Melissa takes a few tentative steps out of the water, her skin stinging with the breeze. Do I dare to climb out and find Dove, exposing myself on the way?
“Leaving so soon?” he asks. “Here—I’ll spill now.” He motions for her to follow him in the water, and she goes back in to do so, walking the exaggerated walk of someone in chest-high water. “Check it out.
At the far end of the pool, a narrow inlet leads to an overgrown leafy area where the water is shallower. Melissa feels her top exposed and looks down to see Dove’s suit isn’t doing her any favors. “Um, you know what, I have to go. I have to meet …” She stops in her tracks.
The guy turns to look at her, not flinching when he sees Melissa’s hand spread over herself. “Wait. Stay here.” He glides by her, going back to the first pool.
Now I scared him for good. Melissa looks up at the moonlight and feels glad at least for the moonlight, the beautiful scenery. “Here you go.” He hands her a black T-shirt. “You’re obviously weirded out being with me and hey, maybe I don’t blame you. But at least you shouldn’t have to deal with any bathing suit issues.”
Melissa blushes, thankful he can’t see it in the dark. “How’d you know?” She slips the T-shirt on and feels much more relaxed.
“Sister. One. She once lost her top at a fancy country club. Another time, she borrowed a suit out of necessity and … well, let’s just say comedy ensued.”
“Thanks,” Melissa says and sticks her hand out to shake his. “Now where were you leadin
g me?”
“There.” He holds back a palm frond to expose a small waterfall. The forceful water plunges into the pool below, and the guy positions himself directly under the spray of it.
I wish I felt this at ease around everyone, Melissa thinks. But I’m always learning new things—how to dice onions the way Matty Chase likes them done, how to lead a ski team, how to deal with lost luggage. “It’s remarkably easy to talk to you,” Melissa blurts out. She thinks right away that she’ll care about looking foolish, but she doesn’t.
“Likewise,” he says, his voice matter-of-fact. Melissa moves forward into the water, the black T-shirt seeping into the steam, closer to him. At arm’s length apart, the spray of the waterfall hits her face. Her heart races again, and this time it has nothing to do with the water’s temperature. “Shame we made that pact.
“What pact?” Melissa is entranced by the sound of the water, the feeling of being near him.
“You know,” he says, looking away. “Not to do what people do.”
“In a situation like this.” She completes his sentence.
“Right.” He bites his lower lip again.
He has a heart-shaped mouth. Perfect. “Exactly.”
They stand next to each other in the spray, shoulders touching, until they happen to turn toward each other at the same time. Mere inches apart, they could lean in and in a second have their lips meet. Melissa’s heart officially pounds, her blood races, her knees tremble despite the warmth of the water.
“Melissa?” A voice from back near the huts interrupts the sultry silence.
Melissa swallows hard and backs away from him, from the waterfall, from everything that almost happened.
“Yeah?” Melissa shouts.
“Van’s taking off—leave now or lose your ride.” Gus’s voice comes through the foliage.
Melissa looks at the guy, her feelings sinking into the steamy water. “I guess I have to go.”
He looks at her with his eyebrows raised. “If you’re sure about that …”
Melissa picks up the hem of the shirt. “Do I need to give this back right now?” Of course I do, she thinks. When else am I going to give it to him? The next random steam-dipping party? The one thing she is too embarrassed to admit is that she’d seen him before—on the docks—so she can’t say she’ll give it back to him down there.
He shakes his head. “Nah. Consider it a souvenir.” He smiles, still in the shower of the waterfall.
“Of what?” Melissa starts to back away.
“Of a simple, good night. Nothing more, nothing less.
Melissa takes one more look at him and the slightest bit of his orange shorts that she can see as he jumps into the water, and then she leaves.
10
LOW TIDE ON THE beach brings a vast array of shells. Scattered along the water’s edge are conchs, moon snails, and shells that to Dove look like trumpets.
“I can’t believe it’s happening,” she says to Melissa. Dove checks her watch for the hundredth time in an hour. “Ten minutes and he’ll be here. After months of waiting.” Dove grins. “And I have a whole forty-five minutes with him before I’m due back on the boat for welcome drinks with the owner.”
“Sounds like you’ll have just enough time to remember why it is you like him!” Melissa gives Dove a hug. “I wish I could stay and watch your heartfelt reunion …” She laughs and puts her drawstring bag over her shoulder. Inside, her uniform for work is rolled up and ready to wear. “I’m sure it’ll be every bit as romantic as you thought, now that you’re both on the same island and William’s yacht isn’t stuck in the mud.”
“So I’ll see you back at the docks tonight after work?” Dove looks at Melissa and then into the distance over a small sandy hill for signs of William.
“Not if I can help it,” Melissa says, her flip-flops gritty with sand. “I’m hoping today’s the last day of waking up feeling seasick.” She holds a finger in the air. “Winds of change! I’m finding a place to rent no matter what.”
“I’ll miss you, but it’s probably for the best. If you find a place near the restaurant, you won’t have to deal with the bus.”
Melissa looks up the hill and sees the brightly colored bus pulling up to the stop. “Speaking of which …” She sprints off, leaving Dove to wait for William.
Six minutes. Five minutes. Dove looks out to the water, wondering what she should say to him first Is he as nervous as I am? Does he worry about what to talk about? Dove flashes back, trying to remember great conversations they’ve had in the past, but stumbles over the memories, mixing them up with more recent talks with Max back in the snow. We sat by the fire, talking about literature and school and love, Dove thinks, then feels so much guilt that she blocks the past from her mind and focuses on the sun’s bright rays on the water. He’ll be here any minute, she thinks, and puts her fingertips to her lips. And then it’ll all be fine.
Up on the hill, the bus pulls over to the white-sand edge of the road and opens its doors. Melissa steps inside and slides into a seat by the window. It’s so beautiful here. The waves, the colors of the sand, the sky. She sees Dove in the distance, first just standing still, then jumping up and down and waving. Melissa leans out the open window to see what Dove sees—no doubt William’s arrival. At the top of the hill, he stands giving her a double-arm wave, like the kind air traffic controllers use to park planes, both hands above his head. Dove comes running to meet him. He picks her up and she holds on to him with her entire body—legs around his waist, face tucked into his neck. They’re so happy, Melissa thinks as Dove and William walk toward the bus stop and, presumably, William’s car. He’s as good-looking as Dove described and somewhat familiar in his broad shoulders and jaunty footing in the sand. Melissa watches William’s long, easy strides. As the bus pulls her away from the scene Melissa smiles. It’s only when the bus is chugging down the winding road that something occurs to her: She’s seen William somewhere before. Somewhere without Dove.
11
“I DIDN’T SAY MASSACRE the mangoes, I said to puree them,” Matty Chase bellows as he blusters his way through the kitchen. Everywhere he goes, criticism and chaos ensue—this dish is too milky, this one’s too salty, the ice is melting, the watercress is wilting.
Melissa tries not to feel cowardly, but it’s a difficult task when even the most experienced of the staff seem to be getting directions wrong. Everyone, that is, except Melissa. With three large thin metal bowls in front of her, she proceeds with the job at hand: finely slicing green scallions for the first bowl, peeling and chopping purple potatoes and depositing them in iced water, and putting the remainder of the unused food into the third bowl where she can later transport it to the composting center at the end of the beach.
“May I remind you that everything here is green,” Matty booms, wiping his wide hands on his apron. “Not as in the color of relaxation, but as in the environmental movement. Very important in this world climate.”
The various staff members nod their heads and try to listen to his ranting and raving while working. Melissa picks up a handful of scallions and drops them in the bowl.
“It’ll be far more efficient if you pick up the cutting board and dump the whole lot in,” Matty says when he’s over Melissa’s shoulder, surveying her.
Melissa does as he says. “You’re right. Don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” She goes back to chopping, distanced by the smell of the scallions and the nagging feeling she’s seen William before. Maybe it’s just the photos Dove has, Melissa thinks, lining the scallions up so she can cut them evenly.
A fellow kitchen worker walks by Melissa’s station and bumps her, causing the cutting board to nearly tip onto the floor. “Hey!” Melissa scrambles to fix it.
The girl gives Melissa a fake smile. “Oops.”
“No problem,” Melissa says, anxious to get back to work and to avoid problems. “Just watch where you’re going.”
The girl rolls her eyes. “Look, new girl—”
<
br /> “Melissa. My name’s Melissa.”
“Whatever. The point is, just because you’ve got some secret connection to Matty doesn’t give you free rein here.”
Melissa is totally caught off guard. “I’m not … I don’t have any connection to Matty, first of all. And second of all …”
“Second of all—” A waiter steps in from the apron station and ties his on crisply. “We all work hard here, Melissa. And we expect the same from you. Right, Olivia?”
“Yeah,” Olivia says, her face still set in destroy mode as she watches Melissa. “It’s pretty clear Matty has a soft spot for you … but the rest of us—well, it’s not that easy.”
Melissa opens her mouth to protest. “I’m working hard, believe me.”
As she’s about to explain the pounds of fruit she’s cut, the ache in her hands from too much repetitive motion, Matty comes back into the kitchen. “Phone call for you, Melissa.”
Melissa looks sheepish as she leaves her station and the smirking Olivia. Matty holds the phone out to Melissa.
“Hello?”
“This is the airport calling with news of your luggage.”
Melissa grips the phone, anxious. “Great! Do you have my bags?”
“No, I’m afraid we don’t. We continue to apologize for the inconvenience …”
“Then why did you call?” Melissa sounds annoyed. From back in the kitchen she can see all the other prep cooks making good use of their time. The waitstaff is nearly ready for the lunch crush.
“It’s policy. You left this number and we just wanted to keep you updated. We’ll call back with another update soon.”
Melissa sighs. “Don’t bother.”
The heat from the kitchen gets to her and she wipes her forehead with a kitchen towel and goes back to her chopping. Only three more hours on my feet, chopping, dicing, and prepping, and then I can take a break.
“It’s amazing!” Dove says. “Don’t you think it’s amazing?” She stares into William’s eyes and tries to take it all in. He looks the same, but better. So not the same. Different, but in a good way.
Off the Trails Page 6