Destiny Ever-Changing

by Ivey , Tasha

  "But I do. I have jumped off here at least a couple hundred times, I'm sure. You said that you trust me, remember?"

  He steps over to the edge of the rock, so close that I am certain a slight breeze would send him hurdling toward the water. He faces me and holds out his hand as he looks directly into my eyes. I finally kick my sandals off and place my hand in his, feeling the butterflies invading my stomach again; although I am unsure whether the butterflies are caused by the impending jump or his delicate touch. He mouths the words "trust me" as he pulls me to him. My heart is racing as I peer at the rolling swells below.

  "We're jumping on the count of three. One . . ."

  "Brooks, I don't know if I can do this."

  He smiles and wraps both arms around my waist. "Two . . ."

  "Oh my goodness," I squeak.

  Brooks locks his gaze with mine and pulls me tightly against his chest, and I can feel it heaving against mine. His mouth so close that I can feel his moist breath on my cheek.

  "Three." he whispers as he bends slightly to pick me up, and we take flight.

  I thought I would be scared, but I feel perfectly safe in his arms. We fall for what seems like an eternity, and the feeling of the wind whipping around me is exhilarating. Just before we reach the water, he releases me, and I hold my breath. The cool, salt water engulfs me, and as I slightly open my eyes, I see a school of fish scatter. As soon as I break the surface of the water, I begin laughing hysterically and swim toward the shore.

  "That was amazing! I haven't ever done anything like that before!" Expecting a reply of some kind, I turn around to look for Brooks and am shocked to find myself alone. After looking in all directions, I dive back underwater to search for him. If he is playing a joke on me, drowning will be the least of his worries. At first, I struggle to open my eyes in the stinging salt water, but I force them open anyway. I still can't see him.

  My foot grazes something behind me, so I turn around, hoping I touched a tiny fish rather than a ferocious shark. However, what I saw was not a fish or a shark, although it was much more shocking. The unexpected sight causes me to let out the breath I was holding, sending me scrambling back to the surface. Just as I take in my first gasp of air, I hear Brooks doing the same.

  "Where . . . are . . . your . . . shorts?" I ask in an uneven, ragged breath.

  "Ugh . . . I was hoping . . . you didn't see that."

  "Hard not to see . . . when it was . . . right in my face," I begin to giggle breathlessly.

  Brooks closes his eyes and sighs, obviously embarrassed. "I lost them after we hit the water, and I've been trying to find them. I realized, a little too late, that I ran right into you."

  "You were only wearing shorts?" I ask, trying not to let on to the fact that I just watched his boxers wash up onto the shore.

  "No, boxers, too. Also, gone."

  With a devilish smile, I swim toward the shore, secretly scoop up his boxers as I emerge, walk out to some dry sand, and plop onto the ground.

  "What are you doing?" Brooks yells out.

  Still smiling, I say, "Oh, just waiting for you to come out."

  "You don't play fair, do you? Well, fine. Here I come."

  He begins to swim toward me with determination. When his feet are able to touch bottom, he slows once the water reaches just to the top of his narrow hips.

  "What are you waiting for?" I joke.

  "Come on," he laughs nervously. "You could at least find me some fig leaves or something."

  I pull the wet boxers from behind my back and whip them around over my head. "Sure you don't want these instead?"

  "You're enjoying this, aren't you? How long have you had those?"

  "Just long enough to enjoy your torment."

  Brooks crosses his arms and grins. "Are you paying me back for laughing at your panties? We're even now. Please throw them to me."

  "No, we're not even yet." I say as I stand, tossing his boxers onto a bush and walk around the cove. "I'll see you when you catch up."

  As I walk away, I hear a roar of laughter along with sloshing water as he emerges from the water. Fighting every urge to peek behind me, I am wondering what consequences I have coming to repay me for my antics. Where did all of that flirting come from? I am normally more reserved, but he is bringing out a side of me that I have never seen before.

  As I begin wringing out my hair, Brooks swiftly scoops me into his arms and runs toward the water. No amount of shrieking stops him from tossing both of us into the incoming swells. Once we both surface, the war is on. I jump on his back, causing him to lose his balance and fall back into the water. Twisting me around, he picks me up as high as he can and throws me a few feet away. Then, of course, we splash and wrestle around until we finally end up lying on the sand, laughing, and trying to catch our breath.

  He rolls onto his side to face me. "Now, we're even."

  I turn toward him and nod.

  "Hold still," he says softly as he scoots closer. "You have something in your hair."

  Once his face is a mere six inches from mine, he pulls a pea-sized shell from the hair at my temple. Yet, he doesn't back away; his gaze meets mine, and I get lost in his aquamarine eyes for a moment. He gradually moves closer, and I feel his breath quickening as he takes my hand and places it on his smooth chest. I feel his heart pounding forcefully, and mine may be pounding even harder.

  Brooks suddenly drops my hand. "We have to go." He jumps up and looks down at me apologetically, holding out his hand to help me up.

  "Thanks," I mutter.

  We walk in silence for nearly half an hour until we have almost reached the wooden stairs leading up to his house. The setting sun is casting a red glow upon the sky, water, and sand, so I will be walking in the dark again tonight, and to make matters worse, I forgot my keys.

  I glance over at Brooks, who is solemnly gazing at the ground as he walks. He has not even looked in my direction since we began walking back. I can't tell if he is upset with himself, or me, but I know I am definitely disappointed in the turn of events this afternoon. What started out as harmless fun, nearly ended tragically. That innocent touch could have led to big trouble, and I still feel trouble brewing.

  I can't stand the quiet anymore. "Well, here's your stop. Thanks for hanging out with me this afternoon."

  He just nods and pauses at the base of the stairs. Looks like he has changed back to his stoic, detached self.

  "Okay, then," I say. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime."

  "Laura, wait. I don't want you to walk all the way home in the dark. It's my fault you're out so late, so let me take you home."

  I shake my head. "No, I'll be fine. But thanks anyway."

  "I insist. Please."

  "Are you going to ignore me the entire way like you have the last thirty minutes?"

  He winces. "I deserve that, and I'm sorry. Just let me take you home, so I know you're safe."

  "Fine. What about Jacqueline and Will? Are they going to ride along, too?"

  "I'll take care of them. Come on."

  We walk up the stairs, and, as we pass through the gate, Brooks turns to me and places his finger over his mouth, signaling me to be quiet. I look up at the crisp white, grandiose villa as we make our silent approach; it is lit up like a Christmas tree. Brilliant golden luminescence shines through the superfluous arch windows, gleaming like dozens of beacons in the impending darkness. Only I want to get away, not get closer, since I am expecting to see Jacqueline in one of the windows, awaiting our return. Nonetheless, I see no one.

  After we make our way up the deck steps, Brooks holds his hand up. "Wait here."

  This is getting annoying.

  Brooks quietly opens the ornate door that leads into the kitchen, pausing momentarily to listen before he disappears into the house. I walk over to the nearest deck chair and sink into the fluffy cushion, letting out an exasperated sigh. What a day this turned out to be.

  "What have you two been up to?" I hear from the darkness at the c
orner of the house. Will emerges with an accusing grin and a beer in hand.

  "Will! Where did you come from?"

  "I believe I asked first," he says as he plops down in the chair next to me.

  "Well, we, uh—"

  "Hey," Brooks interrupts. "I was looking for you. Where is Jacqueline?"

  "You're safe. She left hours ago to have dinner with a 'friend'. Nice boxers." Will kicks his feet up onto an iron table and continues his inquisitive gaze in our direction.

  Brooks pulls a t-shirt over his head, steps into some athletic shorts, and slips his feet into some rubber flip-flops, obviously unwilling to talk about our whereabouts. "Since it's getting so dark, I'm going to take Laura home. Be deciding on what you want to eat, and we'll throw something on the grill when I get back."

  "Mmm-hmm . . ." Will hums as he takes a few overzealous gulps of his beer.

  Brooks quickly ushers me to the garage and automatically darts to the passenger side of his truck to open my door. I barely pull my legs inside before he heaves the door shut.

  Jerk.

  In one fluid motion, he jumps into the driver's side and closes the door behind him. Of course, he still sports a gloomy, annoyed demeanor. As soon as the truck hums to life, an upbeat rock song blares from the speakers, which he immediately quashes with an abrupt turn of a knob as he hastily backs out of the garage. Silence again. Great.

  As we pull onto the darkening expanse of highway, I twist myself toward the window—and away from him—and I catch a glimpse of the fading sunset, now only a faint afterglow. The moon is making sporadic appearances from behind the choppy clouds, as if it is speaking to me in some sort of sluggish Morse code. I am positive that it is mocking me.

  Meanwhile, due to my fervent desire to get out of this vehicle, I actually find myself debating on what would be more painful: staying in here with him one more second or flinging the door open and hurling myself onto the pavement. Luckily, before I have a chance to attempt the latter, he slows and pulls into Nana's driveway.

  I turn back in his direction to thank him—until I see him, that is. His body is completely rigid as he grips the steering wheel, and he is staring straight ahead, brows furrowed and lips pursed. Instead, I say absolutely nothing as I slide my feet out onto the ground and softly shut the door behind me. No sooner than I can turn toward the house, I hear the front door creaking open, and Nana's sleepy face peeps through the narrow slit.

  "You weren't asleep already were you?" I ask her, hoping to avoid explaining the rumbling truck that still hasn't budged from the drive.

  "No, not yet," she murmurs after an audible yawn and steps back just enough to allow my passage through the doorway.

  "Sorry, I left my keys in my room. Can I borrow the spare?"

  "Hanging on the hook in the kitchen. You having company?" She grinned.

  "Nope," I state matter-of-factly. "Just going to shower and go straight to bed. To be honest, I'm just ready for this day to end." I turn around the corner leading into the kitchen, feeling along the dark wall for the key. After a prolonged blind search, my hand meets the cold metal. I turn on my heel to go back into the living room, and I nearly slam into my confused Nana on the other side of the wall.

  She nods her head toward the front door. "Are you sure he's aware that you're not having company?"

  My eyes dart to the slightly ajar door, and I see a bulky silhouette. I was hoping he would leave as soon as I got inside. "What now?" I say to Nana, knowing that she had no idea.

  "He looks pitiful. Says he needs to talk to you. Is this the young man who found your mother's necklace?"

  I reluctantly start for the door. "That's him. I'll explain tomorrow, okay? Goodnight."

  "You better," she chuckles. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

  I swiftly close the heavy door behind me as I step onto the concrete porch, which startles Brooks from his glare into the darkness on the other side of the highway. Once he turns, I immediately notice that his expression has softened.

  Too little too late.

  "Laura, can we talk?"

  "Look, all I want more than anything right now is a shower. Can this wait?"

  "I'll wait until after you shower. Please? I promise it won't take long." His blue eyes are droopy and haggard.

  Deciding to make him sweat it a little, I agree to let him wait until after I shower. I lead the way through the dark garage and up the rickety stairs to my room, thankful that I hadn't left it in a mess. He appears to be shocked as I flip on the lights. Maybe, he expected the room to look like the grimy garage, but he seems to be pleasantly surprised to find it otherwise.

  I wordlessly motion toward the tiny living area and toss the television remote to him once he seats himself on the couch. I disappear into my closet to find some clean clothes—a pair of black running shorts and a soft pink t-shirt. My usual nighttime attire will have to wait until he is gone.

  I hear the low mumbling from the television once I step into the bathroom, and I am sure to take my time. I step into the steamy shower and carefully lather, rinse, and repeat twice, ensuring that my hair was completely free of seaweed and sand. Next, I wash my face with my favorite scrub; it smells like freshly sliced oranges. Then, I grab a washcloth and delicately scour every inch of my body with the matching citrus body wash. Finally, I rinse, turn the water off, pat myself dry, and pull on my clothes. I eventually decide that I cannot waste any more time after I rub a generous amount of lotion on my legs and arms and comb out every tangle from my damp hair.

  When I open the bathroom door, I nearly expect to find that Brooks left . . . probably more hoping than expecting. But he is still sitting there in the same position as before. I toss my towel and dirty clothes into the hamper by my closet and situate myself on the very edge of the couch.

  After a moment of hesitation, he looks at me. "I'm a jerk, aren't I?"

  "Yep."

  "Wow," he laughs nervously, "not even an attempt to sugar-coat it."

  "Nope." I'm quite proud of my strong reserve.

  Finally, looking like he's about to spontaneously combust, Brooks turns to me. "I like you. I really like you. So I'm having a hard time maintaining the distance that I should have with you."

  "I—," I attempt to butt in.

  "Please, just let me finish, and then you can ream me out if you feel it's necessary."

  I nod.

  "I'm struggling. Struggling with a forced engagement to a woman I can't stand. Struggling with a father who thinks it is his personal right to manipulate me for his own monetary gain. And more than anything, I'm struggling with keeping a friendly relationship with a woman who, if things were different, I would like to be more than friends with. But this is the hand that I have been dealt, and I can't change any of it. I don't want you to think for one second that I am trying to make excuses for my behavior or lead you on, because I'm not. I've been a jerk; I admit it. Nevertheless, I want to try to make this friendship work. I feel like I can talk to you about things that I can't talk about with anyone else, and you make me feel like a human again."

  After a brief pause, I realize he is waiting for my reply. "I honestly don't know if I can do this anymore," I say. "I have only known you for a few days, and we've already experienced more ups and downs than people who have known each other for years. I don't know what to expect from you from one moment to the next. One minute, you're Dr. Jekyll and the next you're Mr. Hyde, and let me tell you, I detest Mr. Hyde. Not to mention, I refuse to sneak around behind your fiancé's back. I'm not that kind of girl. So how do you think this could ever work?"

  He shakes his head. "I would never ask you to sneak around behind Jacqueline's back."

  I hold up my hand and interrupt. "What was up with the covert ops through your backyard tonight, then?"

  "I didn't mean to make you feel like I was hiding you. I just wasn't ready to be grilled by her if she saw you unexpectedly. Even though she has no qualms about throwing her infidelity in my face, I still wouldn't want to giv
e her any ammunition against me. And, about Mr. Hyde, I promise you, if I'm anything less than a perfect gentleman ever again, I give you full permission to slap the hell out of me and never speak to me again."

  "Now, that is awfully tempting," I say, trying desperately to maintain an emotionless expression.

  "No more monkey business," he vows. "Friends?"

  I sigh deeply. "Okay . . . friends."

  He jumps up and starts walking toward to door. "I may swing by here tomorrow, if it's okay with you. I'm planning a little get-together, and I want you to be there. So I'll come by once I get the exact day and time."

  "Sounds grand," I utter with a hint of sarcasm. "See you then."

  "Excellent. Goodnight, Laura."

  And he's gone.

  Before I can make my way across the room to lock the door behind him, I hear his truck fire up and take off down the drive. I slip on my pajamas and pull back the covers on the bed. Before I slide into the soft sheets, I spot my mother's journal on the nightstand. Maybe I'll just read one more entry. After all, I'm anxious to see where she is going to take me next.

  Chapter Twelve — Redemption

  Brooks:

  I never would have pegged Laura as the type of person that would get sheer enjoyment from holding me as her naked hostage. Quickly wading over to the bank, I grab my rumpled boxers and step into them—with my back to Laura, just in case—forcing myself to suppress the images of her staring at my backside. I must also mention that having an undergarment caked with wet sand on the inside is quite an undesirable feeling. At first, I don't know how to react to such an interesting turn of events, but I currently have only one reaction in mind . . . revenge.

  Watching her walk ahead of me, I notice that her drenched khaki shorts and thin lavender t-shirt are clinging to her skin in a glorious way, accentuating her tapered waist and curvy hips. Her dripping hair is hanging in disheveled chestnut waves down to her midriff, and she doesn't seem at all concerned that her tresses are out of place. I love that about a woman. But more importantly, her unwavering confidence and witty charm are driving me wild.