by Erin Noelle
He pushes off the wall, turning on his heel and scooping his suitcases up on his way to the door. “My real name is Davis, and the ball’s now in your court, Trouble.”
DAVIS MCKAY.
Shit.
Holy shit.
Holy motherfucking shit.
Of all the warnings he could’ve given me—promises of taking my entire body, assurance that we’ll never see each other again when we leave, whatever—nothing could’ve scared me more than his name alone.
Suddenly, everything from earlier in the day begins to make sense—his outburst on the plane, why he looked familiar, the southern accent, the conversation with Dr. Secret in the car about sports—all of it now crystal clear.
He is the Davis McKay, the highest-rated high school quarterback in the nation only two years ago. He was the talk not just of the Oklahoma campus when he signed his letter of intent to attend the school, but of the entire state. Rarely do Texas-born boys snub their nose at the burnt orange longhorns of UT and opt to travel north to their long-time rival, but he did.
As an intern for The Norman Transcript my junior year in high school, I even wrote an editorial piece about the implications of that National Signing Day and what it meant for the Red River Rivalry in the future. I wrote it as a letter to my dad, knowing he was probably throwing a party with the angels in heaven when the news broke. To date, it’s probably the best thing I’ve ever written; that piece alone got more comments than any other article in the paper’s history, and pretty much sealed up my journalism scholarship to OU.
He is the Davis McKay, sole survivor of the private plane that crashed traveling from Daytona Beach to Dallas a month after he signed that letter. He and three of his friends had spent spring break at the world-renowned party locale, and on their trip home, a mechanical failure caused the small aircraft to plummet to the ground just outside of New Orleans. Everyone else, including the pilot, died in the fiery wreckage that day, but somehow he managed to walk away from it nearly unscathed. Every news outlet from coast to coast covered the miraculous story, but he refused to speak about what had happened.
In the weeks following the accident, there were rumors he was hanging up his helmet, no longer having the drive to play football any longer. Coach Elsik and several others tried to visit him—hell, half of the state camped out on his front lawn, as well as ESPN reporters—but to no avail. He was done—done talking, done playing. Since then, his name has made the news several times, mostly him getting in trouble at clubs or trying to break the sound barrier in his sports car, but never with talk of him returning to the field.
I stare at my reflection in the floor-length mirror, questioning my outfit choice for the fourth time in five minutes. My stomach is tied in knots as I get ready for this dinner, partly due to nerves of meeting all of these new people, but mostly because I don’t know what to say to Davis when I see him.
Now that I know who he is, I’m not sure how to act around him. Do I tell him I know? Tell him I’m the sports editor for the Oklahoma Daily, the campus newspaper? Pretend I have no idea who he is or what he’s gone through? Do I still want him to kiss me, knowing what it’ll most definitely lead to and how it will end? Can I handle that emotionally?
The resounding answer to all of those questions is ‘I don’t know’.
The clock reads seven-forty-five, and I need to at least decide what I’m wearing; dinner starts in fifteen minutes. The long floral sundress I have on is going to have to do—it’s neither too casual nor too formal and I like the way it ties around my neck, showing off most of my back. Sweeping my long, mahogany hair into a purposely messy up-do, I apply a little mascara and lip gloss, and head out the door.
As soon as I step outside, I can hear music flowing from the main house mixed with a blend of voices chattering in the night. The little road is well-lit for my short walk from the cottage to the restaurant, and with every step, I remind myself not to get too caught up in the entire Davis situation; he’s not why I’m here. I need to focus on finally meeting all of these other wonderful people in person and getting to know them, and think with my head, not my hormones.
A short, tubby man is waiting at the door, greeting each guest as they arrive. The minute I see his name tag reads Isaac, I smile brightly and all of my previous anxieties disappear.
“Bristol!” he exclaims, recognizing me from my picture online. “Look at you, beautiful girl.” He pulls me into a tight embrace. “I’m so glad you were able to make it this year.”
“Me too, me too,” I agree cheerfully. “It’s so great to finally have a face to match the name to, even though I truly love your little puppy profile picture.”
“Yeah, who couldn’t love my little Hershey?” He laughs and nods, grabbing my nametag from the table next to him. “These are only for tonight. After that, we should know who everyone is, since there aren’t a whole lot of us.”
I peel the backing off the adhesive and stick it on my chest. “There. No problem at all. Has everyone made it to the resort?”
“Everyone except Kayden, who is en route from the airport. It’s been a nightmare since UVF shut down for a few hours this afternoon; all of the planes were rerouted and flew in circles overhead waiting to land in Castries. Which airport did you come in to?” he asks, fiddling with his glasses.
“I was one of the planes moved from UVF to Castries. It was kinda crazy there for a little bit; the place isn’t much of an ‘airport,’ but thankfully Davis was on the same flight and helped me get here.”
“Oh, wonderful! You’ve already met Davis then. I’ve been a little worried about how he’d do here, since he’s not an active member of our online group and doesn’t know anyone. I was hoping you two would hit it off, since you’re closest in age.” Lowering his voice to a whisper, he continues, “His mom sent me an email asking if he could attend the retreat. Someone had told her about our group, and she thought it’d be great for him, but knew he wouldn’t just jump online and start participating. She’s hoping if he connects with some people here, we can help him over that hump when he returns home.”
I nod, appreciating the insight on why he’s here actually, which also explains his bitterness about coming . . . besides the whole getting on a plane again after living through a deadly crash. There’s no way in hell anyone could ever talk me into voluntarily agreeing to sit through a tornado again. Even though I still live in Oklahoma and they pop up there all the time, I’ve never again been that close to where one’s touched down, and I have no idea how I’d react if that day happens.
“By the way, Charlotte and Ashleigh are already here.” Isaac’s voice pulls me back to the present as he points across the room to two females smiling and talking. “I know the three of you are always very friendly and chatty online.”
“Ooh, yay! I’m going to go say hi.” I hug him briefly one more time. “Thank you again for putting this together for all of us.”
“It’s my pleasure, young lady. Now go have some fun and make some friends.”
Before I even make it to them, Charlotte and Ashleigh see me hurrying across the floor to them and they rush over to me, both of them delivering tight hugs and kisses on the cheek.
“Oh my bloody word, Bristol, look at you,” Charlotte says in her thick British accent. “You’re even prettier than I imagined.”
“I know, right?!” Ashleigh pipes in. “What I’d give to be young again and have her youthful glow.”
“Oh, hush, both of you,” I retort, unable to wipe the grin off my face. “You’re both beautiful, and I can’t believe we’re all here together! I’ve been dreaming about this day for so long.”
My words are not a lie; both ladies are quite attractive, each in a different way. Charlotte, though in her early forties, is stunning with her platinum bob, bright blue eyes, and near six foot stature. She reminds me of a model with her flawless complexion and ultra-thin figure. Ashleigh, who just turned thirty, is also a blonde and has a killer figure, with more cleavage th
an any one woman should be blessed with, though she’s closer to my five-foot-four height. She shares my brown eyes, but her nose and cheeks are covered in light freckles.
The three of us continue to chat for a while, talking about our flights and how amazing the resort is. I’m not sure why I don’t tell them about meeting Davis, our ride together, or the exchange in my cottage, but I do find myself scanning the room every few minutes to see if he’s arrived, which he hasn’t.
Isaac moves to the front of the room, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “If I could ask everyone to take a seat, I’m going to say a few quick words, and then Chef Bill will amaze you with his culinary skills.”
Alongside Charlotte and Ashleigh, we walk over to one of the round dining tables, each set for eight guests. Already seated at the table we stop at is Alex, a middle-aged Asian man, Lynnette, a tiny brunette who’d I guess is in her late thirties, and Val, a silver-headed lady who immediately reminds me of a hippie with the long braid down her back. All according to their name tags, at least. The six of us exchange pleasant greetings as we settle in to listen to Isaac—still no Davis.
“Good evening to you, my dear friends, and welcome to our Second Annual Enduring Life Retreat. I hope you all know who I am,” he laughs lightly, “but if not, I’m Isaac Resendez, founder of Enduring Life and a sixteen year survivor.
“I urge you to refrain from talking too much about why you’re an Enduring member this evening, as there will be plenty of time to discuss this over the next two weeks. Tonight is about getting to know one another and relaxing after our day of travel.” He stops and looks around, taking a quick roll call of who’s here. “We are still waiting on one member to arrive from the airport, and one other who may have fallen asl—”
As if he was waiting on his grand introduction, Davis strolls into the room, and oh my . . .
Dressed in a light blue Guevara-style shirt with long khaki pants, the ball cap from earlier is gone, revealing his closely-shaven dark hair and gorgeous face, both of which he’d kept hidden most of the day.
“Mr. McKay, there you are,” Isaac proclaims, drawing everyone’s attention to Davis hovering near the hostess stand. “Please take a seat anywhere you’d like. I just started the welcoming process.”
Davis nods with a forced smile as his eyes sweep across the room, stopping when they meet mine. I suck in sharply, twisting in my chair to look away from him. Please do not let him come over here.
“You’re not safe,” Charlotte whispers in my right ear, causing my back to stiffen. If my reaction was obvious to her, I can only assume it was to everyone else as well.
The empty chair on my left scoots back and he slides in next to me, his freshly-showered, invigorating scent inundates my nose. It takes every bit of willpower I have to not turn and look at him; thankfully, Isaac begins talking again.
“As I was saying, once the last member arrives, we’ll all be here and accounted for, ready to begin our program tomorrow morning after breakfast. We are all here twelve full days; ten of those will have a session in both the morning and in the afternoon, and the other two days are free days. In the packet you received upon arrival is your personal schedule detailing who each session is with. Each morning is a one-on-one, while the afternoons are set up for small groups,” he pauses to catch his breath from the rambling, and at the same time, Davis rests his knee against mine, eliciting a small gasp from the back of my throat.
“Everyone will meet in the lobby at ten o’clock each morning and five o’clock each afternoon, and at that time, you and your partner or group can move to wherever you like. Excursions the resort offers have been included in our package, but need to be booked twenty-four hours prior, so these will need to be decided on in advance. These can also be utilized on the two free days you have, and I highly recommend the day trip to the Pitons.”
He stops to take a long drink of water. “The purpose of the sessions is simply to meet new people and to share your stories. They can run as short or as long as you see fit; there are no specific guidelines, but I urge you to really take some time and get to know the people around you. There’s something to learn from each and every individual here and their struggle.”
“One last thing and I’ll shut up so we can eat,” we all laugh softly on cue, “and that is to thank you all for coming, for being a part of this group I so desperately needed all those years ago and still today. Some days, knowing one or more of you are only a mouse click away to vent to about emotions no one else can understand is what keeps me sane. Last year, there were ten of us in Puerto Rico; now, this year, we’ve got twenty including myself. I’m so proud of this amazing support system we’ve created, and am so looking forward to these next couple of weeks.” He beams. “Now, eat, drink, and have the time of your lives. You deserve it!”
As soon as he finishes talking, the wait staff converges on our tables in pairs—one to take our drink order, the other for food. Conversation flows nicely around the table as everyone introduces themselves and says what they do and where they’re from. I sip on the glass of white wine set in front of me while I patiently wait for my turn, suddenly feeling very much my youthful age as I’m surrounded by an architect, a pediatric nurse, a retired accountant, a college professor, and a software analyst.
Next, he speaks. “I’m Davis, born and raised in San Antonio, Texas, and I’m just livin’.” He takes a pull from his beer bottle. “Not sure what the future holds, so I’m taking it one day at a time.”
Everyone smiles pleasantly at his vague response, then they shift their attention, waiting for me to follow suit. And here we go.
“My name is Bristol; I was born in a small town just outside of Tulsa, Oklahoma, but now live in Norman ten months out of the year, where I attend Oklahoma University.” Davis’ hands ball up in fists on top of the white tablecloth and his knee moves away from mine. Might as well lay it all out now. “I’m there on a journalism scholarship, and currently, I’m the editor of the sports section for the campus newspaper.”
Congratulations and best wishes come in response from the older people at the table, but Davis says nothing. He knows I know.
The food is served shortly thereafter, and the discussion turns to the different excursions offered to us. I chime in every so often, in-between inhaling the delicious blackened mahi mahi and washing it down with the sweet, endless wine. I must admit it feels a little strange being served alcohol here, as the drinking age is only eighteen. Davis remains quiet the entire time, and I make no attempt to strike up conversation with him, the tension between us growing heavier by the minute.
As we’re all finishing up our meals, Kayden finally arrives from the airport, and I jump up from my chair to greet him as he approaches the table. Unaware the wine would affect me quite as much as it has, I nearly lose my balance and stumble into his arms.
“Well, hello there, Bristol.” He laughs hard at my clumsiness. “I’m excited to finally meet you too.”
I toss my head back, giggling and slapping him playfully on the chest. “Shuddup, Kay. Don’t make fun of me. I’m used to drinking Natty Ice at frat parties, not fancy wine like you do with your sophisticated friends and refined job. It’s a bit of a head rush.”
“Any time you want to put back a twelve-pack of ‘Natty Ice’ with me, you let me know, baby girl,” his bright blue eyes dance teasingly, “and I’ll fly to Hicksville and share a case with you.”
“I don’t live in Hicksville,” I retort with a fake pout, releasing from his embrace.
As he moves to hug the patiently waiting Charlotte and Ashleigh, our little group finally all together in the flesh, I spin back around to grab my glass, when I notice Davis is gone from the table. Glancing around the dining room, I actively look for him, a little too tipsy to care if anyone’s watching me, but my search comes up empty. I shrug, swallowing back my dejection and rejoining my friends.
Half an hour and ten yawns later, I excuse myself to my cottage, the long day fina
lly catching up with me. Kayden offers to walk me back, but I insist he stay and mingle with the others; the two of us can catch up later. After a quick goodbye to the remainder of the group, I begin the short walk back to my room.
My feet intuitively lead the rest of my body up to Davis’ place. The way he went silent and then suddenly disappeared from dinner gnaws at me, and I want to clear the air between the two of us. As I draw near to the door, I stop abruptly, the sound of voices—a male and female—from inside freeze me mid-stride. I can’t make out what they’re saying exactly, but I can hear laughing and back-and-forth banter, obviously two people having a good time.
An onslaught of nausea overcomes me, a combination of too much wine and embarrassed rejection clashing in my belly, and without wasting another second, I hightail it away from there and into my cabin, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Once I’m positive there’s nothing left for me to throw up, I squirm out of my dress and shuffle over to the bed, collapsing in the middle of the pretty petals in only my panties with one simple thought echoing in my head:
He really is a Dick.
I SLEEP STRAIGHT THROUGH breakfast, and if it wasn’t for Charlotte standing over me right now nudging and coaxing me to wake up, who knows if I’d have made lunch either.
“Bristol, doll, you have to get up and eat something,” she urges.
I groan and roll over, feeling the sheets brush across my bare breast. Oh my God! My eyes fly open and I instantly peer down at my body, confirming I am indeed lying here in front of my friend, yet still a stranger, in only my underwear.
Charlotte giggles as I hurriedly sit up and pull the sheets up around my chest, modesty getting the better of me. “Calm down, hun.” She sits down on the mattress next to me. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but I’m sorry I startled you. We were all a little worried when you didn’t make it this morning, so I brought breakfast to you, along with some juice.” She points to a plate of food sitting on the coffee table. “It will make you feel better, I promise.”