by Didi Oviatt
“Are you sure?” Jacklyn quizzes with a speculative look in her eyes. “We’re having such a fun time!”
“Yes,” I insist. “Thank you so much for having me. If you need help cleaning up tomorrow, please let me know.”
Jacklyn tells me that I’m welcome to come back if I catch a second wind, she’s sure the guests will stay for a few hours longer, at least. I glance around again, making sure Blake is still nowhere to be seen, and I bolt for my exit. After ducking behind the wet bar, I slip off my shoes and trek across the sand barefoot. With a slight sway in my step, I nearly lose balance getting back onto my own patio. Luckily, I’m still fairly quick on my feet. I catch my balance, and then glance over my shoulder to make sure I haven’t been followed. Paranoia is new for me, but after the piercing of Blake’s sharp stare, I’m not surprised that it’s made such an obtuse appearance. Now that I’m home free I practically run for my bedroom door.
I suck in a long breath and place a hand over my heart before sliding my back down the wall and sitting on the floor. “What the hell, Carla?” I voice aloud and slap an open palm to my forehead. The thickly coated lashes that frame my closed eyes tickle my cheeks, and the slight tingling of my fingers remind me of what a wimp I really am. “This is horse shit,” I say as I pull myself back up to a standing position. The hardwood beneath my feet is practically taunting me to stay with it. Come back, it beckons, you belong here. “No, Carla,” I tell myself, “you don’t belong on the fucking floor.”
The music coming from Tyler and Jacklyn’s place is cranked up a notch, and I can hear the beat of it through the screen of my opened bedroom windows. I smile and shake my head at my own secluded tenacity before retreating to the kitchen to pour myself another drink. There’s a pitcher of the pineapple rum on the middle shelf. I help myself to two of the largest glasses I can find, and then I hide out in my room to watch television and wallow. It’s only a matter of time before Dean and Marsha are blowing up my phone with text messages, checking in and calling me out on my bullshit.
A short, ‘WTF mom. I know you’re not sick,’ from Dean. Followed by a, ‘That hot guy has been looking around, all frantic like. I’ll bet he’s lost without having you here to stare at,’ from Marsha. Followed by a quick second ‘Maybe I’ll go introduce myself. Tell him that you’re home alone and looking for some company.’
I roll my eyes and debate on a quick comeback, only to talk myself out of it. As far as they know I’m sleeping. She’s bold, but not that bold. I call her bluff and leave it be. Two hours later, my twins bust through mud room doors. I listen to them giggle and try unsuccessfully to sneak around the kitchen for drunken bedtime snacks. I swing my feet off the bed, the start at a failing attempt to help them out. I didn’t realize just how affected I am by the amount of alcohol I’ve had while sitting in bed, drinking and watching re-runs on television. My head spins, a darkness nearly consuming my vision, and I instantly sit back down. The music coming from the neighbors shuts off, and the last of the lingering voices disappear.
I stay seated on the edge of the bed and listen to my kids make their way around the condo. I wait a while. When everything stills and I’m confident they’re passed out, I emerge from my pity-party. Much slower this time I stand, and on wobbly feet I check on Dean and Marsha. I pull a blanket over Marsha first as she’s snoring loudly in Stephany’s room, and then do the same for Dean on the couch. After having to place a hand on the wall in the hallway, and nearly losing my balance in the kitchen I opt for a lighter drink to take to the beach then more rum. Sleep isn’t an option, not tonight.
Chapter 6
With a six pack of spritzer and my feet as bare as they were the day I was born, I exit from the bedroom and walk to the water line. It’s a few minutes past two in the morning and all of the neighbors’ guests have gone. Everything is quiet aside from the soothing crash of waves against the shore. I chug one of my drinks, place it back into the empty slot it came out of and grab a second. At this point, I can hardly hold myself upright and I have no idea why I’m out here. Only that I can’t sleep, and every time I close my eyes, I see his face.
I take a step into the welcoming water and it’s cool. The relieving pulse of each depleting wave slaps up against my ankles. It feels good - too good not to want more. I glance around myself, checking each home along the beachfront. Sure enough, all the lights are out. Everything looks safe and quiet, so I set down the remainder of my drinks and slip off my dress. With one swift toss, I chuck it back far enough behind me that it’ll stay safe and dry. My skin is instantly covered in goosebumps and the rush of standing alone, under the shadowy light of the night’s sky, fills my blood with a rush of adrenaline. I walk into the water as if in a trance. I drop my head back and stare into the stars, allowing the rib-deep water to sway my relaxing body, back and forth with each petite wave. The salty scent fills my nostrils. I wiggle my toes until they sink a little, grounding me in place.
For the first time tonight I’m at peace, relaxed and feeling safe in the ocean, until the sound of crunching steps pulls me out of my trance. I spin around to see none other than Blake Aspen taking slow, calculated steps toward me. He’s closing in the distance at a quick yet seemingly comfortable pace. Rather than running to the shore for my clothing, I find myself frozen in place. Like a statue, I’m stiff on the outside, unable to move. He stops at my dress, glances down at it and the back up at me. My top half is exposed, and in this moment, I couldn’t be any more proud of myself for all the days I’ve spent killing myself at the gym - also for my choice of black lace bra and panties. I force myself to take a breath, and I watch him with my heart nearly racing away from my body.
He shoves his hands in his pockets, and I open my mouth to speak. I want to shout at him, ask him what the hell he is doing out here, if he followed me. Nothing comes out but an awkwardly wanting breath. It’s as if the man has his own vibration, a unique spell of sorts that’s causing my knees to weaken and my voice to falter. He’s shirtless and shoeless. Call me crazy but the rise and fall of his chest is pulling me into his essence, like a spell. It’s got to be the alcohol.
As I stand there, like a deer in the headlights, he does the unthinkable. Rather than talking or asking me why I’m nearly nude in the ocean in the middle of the night, he does something I never saw coming. Slowly, hesitantly, he pulls off his shorts. There’s nothing underneath, so he places a hand over his member. Down boy, I think in my head. The embarrassing thought makes me chuckle to myself. I lower my head and place my hand like a shield in front of it. Much like one would if they were blocking out the sun. My other arm wraps firmly around my stomach. Before I know it, he’s close.
“Carla,” his voice is smooth and deep and only inches from me. The mere sound of it causes my goosebumps to return and a shutter to work its way up my spine.
I finally find my voice, and half shout, “I’m too old for a man-boy.” Then I shake my head at myself. Of all the things to say, it had to be that.
“What?” he chuckles.
My eyes are still shielded, even though he’s now in the water waist deep, barely covering his sensitive parts, and I can’t see anything but his upper half. My chest is level with his stomach. I didn’t realize how much bigger than me he really is, all this watching from a distance didn’t do his powerful stature any justice. I lift my palm enough to spy up his abs and I nearly waffle, so I stop there and resume my hand’s position before my sight gets to his face. I don’t think I can hold my composure if we lock eyes again. Not at such close range. He’s close enough for me to feel the heat of his body, and his scent… oh my. I don’t answer or say anything else. I probably couldn’t even if I tried.
“Carla,” he says my name again, only softer, his voice hardly louder than the soothing sounds of the water around us. He takes another step forward, closing what little space was left in the gap between us. Our bodies are as close as you can get without actually touching. I hold my breath. “If I ask you a question, do you promi
se me an honest answer?”
I nod, bite down on my bottom lip and drop my hand away from my face. I keep my eyes closed tightly. I still can’t look. I won’t lie, I’ll tell him anything he wants to know, but the anticipation of whatever he’s so curious about causes my already rapidly beating heart to kick up a notch. I question its ability to stay pumping, and not stall out at the continuation of his voice.
“What do you want from me?” he asks quietly. If I didn’t know any better, I would have detected a hint of begging behind his words.
That wasn’t at all what I expected. I don’t need to think about it though. In lieu of the honesty he asked for, I say, “Only to figure out why I’m drawn to you, I guess.” I squeeze my lids shut even more.
Blake softly cups my face with both hands and pulls it up gently. “Open your eyes,” he demands. I comply, and the instant they snap open I suck in a soul-reviving breath. Up close, his face is more defined and despite the sharp curve of his jaw his eyes are melted into a look of kindness. The blue of them seem brighter than before. He lowers his head closer to mine until our mouths are nearly touching. He stares at my bottom lip, as it’s likely swollen from being chewed on. His own mouth opens slightly allowing him to breath me in.
I hesitate, yet before I lose my voice and my courage completely, giving into an animalistic urge to throw myself onto a stranger, I ask, “Why are you out here? Why me? There are plenty of other women around here. Younger, more beau…”
Before I can finish, he cuts me off by placing a palm over my mouth. I pull my brows together and glare at him angrily, but I don’t reach up to pull him away. I’m not sure why either, I just stand there and let him cover my mouth to shush me, like a small child.
“I’m drawn to you, too.” he says, his shoulders lowering a bit in surrender. “There is no one more beautiful, and I don’t want you to say things like that.” His brows lower as well, only in warning. He’s upset at me, and I’m reminded of the broken bottle. I shrug but nod a slight understanding and he drops his palm. Surprisingly, he groans, loudly and fists his hairline, running his hands from his forehead all the way back to the base of his neck in frustration.
“Look,” he levels with me. “I don’t know what it is about you, but there’s something. I’ve spent the last four years avoiding women, yet here I am, naked in the ocean with one that I don’t even know. I don’t date, I don’t screw around. I’m not what you think I am, Carla.”
“Who are you then?” I ask and cross my arms across my chest.
“I’m just a guy, in the water,” he chuckles again, somehow conjuring back a lighthearted spirit, only this time I’m looking right at him.
The dimples make their appearance. I melt a little and drop my arms back down to my sides. His face levels and he takes another step closer; close enough for my breasts to touch him, but only my breasts. The rest of my body can feel every ounce of him from a short distance. His heat, his vibration, the up and down movement in his chest. I want to push myself against him. My nipples harden at the brushing touch. He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra, without unlocking eyes. Then he pulls the fabric away from my chest and slides it off of my arms before giving it a toss onto shore. He’s eyes don’t move from my face, nor does the intensity of them lessen.
With the softest of touches, he brushes his finger across my lips, and then moves it over my jaw, down my neckline and fingers the shape of my collar bone before stopping between my breasts. He lingers there and continues to stare. I’m trying my best not to pant at his touch, but the way he can raise the temperature of my entire body with one finger is quite possibly the most intimate experience I’ve ever had. Bradley never had this kind of effect on me. A sensation pools in the pit of my stomach and my inner thighs begin to ache as he continues to move his finger down my body. He stops at my navel before bending down at the middle and lowering his forehead to mine. I’m surprised to feel that his own breath is just as heavy as mine, and the realization of how close I am to sleeping with him slams into me like a semi.
I place my hand on his and pull it away. “I..I.. I can’t do this,” I stutter.
“Me either,” he breathes before pressing his lips softly against mine.
My legs weaken and I have no choice but to grab onto his arms for balance. His kiss is soft, welcoming. I part my lips and let our tongues slide into rhythm. A quiet, irresistibly deep moan sounds from some place in the back of his throat. I take that as my cue. I’m drunk, and too old for this, no matter how irresistible he is. I peel myself away from him and storm off toward the shore. I can hear him groan and mumble behind me, but I refuse to look back. I half expect him to take a firm grip on my wrist and pull me back toward him. I want it, yet I don’t want it, all at the same time. I don’t know what I want, but I do know that a one-night stand with a sexy guy who’s too young for me really isn’t it… is it?
Before I know it, I’m snatching up my bra and dress that are shamelessly splayed out across the sand a few feet apart from each other and speed walking back to the condo to safety. I lock the door behind myself and jump straight into the shower to cool off. I get little to no sleep, tossing and turning all night. Oddly, I don’t feel disturbed, or used or even dirty. Quite the opposite, really. For the first time in, well, ever probably, I feel genuinely wanted, desired, hungered for, even sexy. Until the sun comes back up in the morning, between dozing off and waking up in cold sweats, I question my sanity. At one point I even consider jumping out of bed and marching straight to his house. I don’t even think I’d say anything. I’d probably just pound on the door until he opened it and then throw myself at him the very second I got inside. Would I dare though?
Marsha is the first one out of bed in the morning, and she’s found the bacon, hash browns and eggs in the fridge. By the time I drag myself down the hall, the two of them have eaten and are watching cartoons. No hangovers to behold, apparently. Jerks. I choke down a few bites of food off of the plate Marsha had left me in the microwave before cleaning up. It nearly comes back up, but I'm able to will the need to puke away. Mind over matter, I repeat in my head.
Dean joins me at the kitchen table. He leans his body weight onto his elbows and stares with a goofy grin. "I don't get it." He says.
"Don't get what?" I ask as I swallow a few reheated hash browns down my throat with a heavy gulp. Then I wash it down with both water and coffee, just to be safe.
"How you can sleep in so late and have a hangover when you left the party so early." He lifts a brow and tilts his head to the side.
Marsha shouts from the other room. "Yeah, Mom!" They both chuckle. "What did you really do last night?"
My weak stomach sinks and I slide the plate away from me. "What are you weirdos talking about? I came back here and went to bed. I have a hangover because I'm no longer in my prime, remember?" I think of Blake's naked body next to mine in the ocean, and of the taste of his warm mouth. An icy chill creeps down the whole of my body. Surely, they can't know anything about my going out while they were sleeping… can they?
Marsha joins us at the table. Now they're both wide-eyed and leaning in to hear some juicy confession. Dean says, "Mom, we're adults, just spit it out. That Blake guy left at about the same time you did; Marsha saw him go after you."
"Yeah," Marsha continues for him. "Then, you didn't get up and talk to us when we came in. You always do, no matter how late it is. You didn’t last night though, you just holed up in your room."
"Yep!" It's now back to Dean, his grin expanding. "And I woke up to the sound of your shower in the middle of the night."
"So, tell us, Mom." Marsha keeps at it. "Did you sneak that hot young guy past us last night?"
I glare at them both. My mind is reeling. If they only knew what really went down. My god, how embarrassing, and did Marsha just say that he left when I did? I guess her text really was a bluff. Was he watching me, waiting for hours in case I came back out? Couldn't have, that's crazy.
"For your information,
I was alone here, and I tried to get up when you came but actually didn't feel well." I smile at them, knowing full well they can tell I'm being honest.
"Hmmmm," they both hum, drumming their fingers in unison. Dean blurts, "What was with the shower then?"
I choke on my coffee and cough into my fist. "When I shower is none of your business." I look at Marsha. "Yours either. I couldn't sleep and I was sick. Now go back to your cartoons and leave this old lady to her hangover in peace."
I sigh a breath of relief when it appears they've fallen for my bologna. Then I lean back in my chair and sip on my beverages. Alternating the coffee and water like a sickly animal, nursing myself back to health. Once we're past the hidden truths and omitting naked moments, we're right on track with everything normal and expected. I'm glad that they had such a great time with Jacklyn and Tyler. I make a mental note to invite them out with us the next time Marsha and Dean come to visit. I still have a couple months here, so they'll likely make the most of it and insist on coming here as often as summer classes permit, rather than me coming home.
The rest of the weekend is relaxing and quite perfect, really. Marsha and Dean cook all my meals and insist that I nap off my hangover. Everything is quiet, and aside from the two of them enjoying the beach, soaking up and having an occasional game of frisbee with Tyler and Jacklyn when they happen to be out in the sweltering heat at the same time, we mostly stay in. I choose to stay inside the most, mainly because I don’t want to see Blake Aspen. I’ve avoided my backyard beach for a reason, and that reason has intensified rather than dissipated. I even catch myself spying out the window to make sure he isn’t talking to my kids at any point. To my relief, it doesn’t happen.