by Jewel E. Ann
“That fin?” he asks.
I squint my eyes, although I have twenty-twenty vision. Near the shore is a … cardboard box. Most of it is saturated and below the water but one corner, a triangular-shaped corner, is still dry and bobbing on the surface of the water. It’s drifting closer to my—
My top!
Quick assessment: a box disguised as a shark is floating in the water; my bikini top is sunbathing without me several yards away; and my naked breasts are pressed against Lautner’s bare chest.
“I seem to recall suggesting you keep your top on? Not that I’m complaining.”
I’m now fully aware of how his bare chest is pressed against mine. I’m praying, begging, offering Swarley as a sacrifice that my nipples don’t deceive me or his … guy thingy doesn’t … oh, God, too late.
“What are you doing?” My voice is a desperate whine.
“Sorry, it’s not like I have a whole lot of control over—” He starts to release me.
“No!” I tighten my grip around his neck, which also brings me closer to his problem. “I’m not wearing a top.”
I have a gift for stating the obvious when I’m nervous, and as far as situations go, this one has me very nervous.
“Uh … yeah, I know. About that, why exactly did you take off your top before you ran from the cardboard box?”
“I didn’t take off my top when I saw the … shark. I’d already taken if off to get the sand out and tie my hair back, and then I chose water when I should have chosen tea and—”
“Sydney?” He brings me out of my nervous rant.
“Mm hmm?”
“You can let go now. I’ve already seen your boo—breasts.”
“Well, once is enough so …”
“I’d have to disagree with you on—”
“Lautner! Just close your eyes, let go of me, and count to one hundred.”
He chuckles and releases me. Suddenly, I’m hanging from him with my tippy-toes grazing the sand. “One … two … three …”
His eyes are closed so I make a mad dash for my top.
“… Thirty-three … thirty-four …”
I don’t work well under pressure. My hands fumble with the ties.
“… Sixty-six … sixty-seven …”
“Done!”
He peeks one eye open at a time. I stand tall with my shoulders back, chin up, and hands planted on my hips. What am I so proud of?
Lautner has a close-lipped grin. He nods his head toward our stuff. “Let’s eat.”
There’s a large plaid blanket on the sand with a bag of potato chips, green grapes, carrots, and two paper plates with artisan bread sandwiches.
“Turkey or salmon?”
“Salmon, thanks.”
With the food in the middle, we sit on the blanket facing the water.
“It’s a great day,” I murmur through my mouth full of sandwich. I’m not sure why I said it, other than the awkward need for small talk.
He looks over at me with a single raised brow. “I’m glad you still think so.”
We both gaze out at the water and continue to eat. Through the corner of my eye, I can tell Lautner’s body is shaking and I hear a funny noise as if he’s choking. Setting my plate down, I lean over and see his hand is fisted at his mouth and he has twisted his torso away from me. I had CPR training but it’s been awhile. If I recall correctly, he’s too large for back blows so I’m going to need to get my arms around him for abdominal thrusts, unless he passes out.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask, concern evident in my shaky voice.
He nods his head as I lean even closer to see around to his face.
“Oh my God! Are you laughing at me?”
He no longer can hold it in. Uncontrolled laughter escapes as he tries to keep from choking on the food in his mouth.
“You shit!” I shove him so he falls over on his side.
“I’m sorry … it’s—” He’s laughing too much to finish. “I’ve never seen …” He coughs to clear his throat and uses the back of his hand to wipe tears from his eyes. Holy Crap! He’s laughing so hard, at me, that he’s crying.
“What’s so damn funny?” I ask with my own goofy grin. “Is this about my surfing or the shark? Or are you laughing about my clothing mishap?”
His face is beet red and wrinkled in contortion from trying to contain his hysteria. It’s a textbook ugly laugh.
“Oh God … it’s all of it.” His breath is labored as his body tries to regain some control. “I mean, it’s not just that you had trouble catching a wave, or standing up, or even just straddling your board for that matter…” a few more errant chuckles escape “…it’s that you were so determined. God … it was painful to watch.” He continues to take a few deep breaths while I grab my camera and start shooting one shot after another of him.
“Hey, what are you doing?” He tries to cover his face with his arm.
“Well, I heard there were hyenas around these parts, but this is the closest I’ve gotten to one so I thought I’d get some shots.”
“Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He peeks under his arm that’s covering his face.
I snap one more shot and set my camera down. As much as I want to keep an angry scowl on my face, I can’t.
“Your turn. Now get going.” I make a shooing motion with my hand. “My turn to spot you. Although, after your incredibly rude display, I can’t guarantee I’ll save you if you start to drown. So make sure you leave the keys with me so I can get home in time to feed Swarley.”
Lautner stands and swipes my camera from me.
“Hey!” I yell.
He snaps several shots of me then hands it back. “Watch and learn.” He smirks as he grabs his board.
*
We’re driving back to Palo Alto after Lautner’s Olympic performance on his surfboard. I must have taken over a hundred pictures of him. He was crazy-good, and I told him as much … minus the “good” part.
I’m tired. The long day in the sun has zapped my energy. Well, that and being waterlogged.
“You wanna grab some dinner? Pizza or something?” Lautner doesn’t sound tired at all.
“Thanks, but not tonight. I have to get Swarley fed and I’m not that hungry.”
He smiles, but it’s faint.
“Raincheck?” I offer.
Now he perks up. “Definitely. Tomorrow?”
I match his smile. “Okay.”
“Great! I’ll bring pizza and beer. You provide the entertainment.”
“Entertainment?” I question with a sideways glance.
“Yes, entertainment. Did I stutter?” He grabs my leg again, eliciting another squeal.
Shoving his hand away, I shake my head. “There’s a pool, hot tub, satellite TV, and a Ping-Pong table in the lower level. The entertainment provides itself.”
“Good point. Shall I bring my swim trunks?”
“Only if you plan on getting in the pool or hot tub.” I shrug, looking out the window.
“Oh, I plan on getting in both. I’m just confirming whether or not I need my swim trunks.”
Turning, I punch him in the arm, which is the equivalent of a bug hitting the windshield. “Shut up! From now on, we both keep our clothes or suits on. Got it?”
“Hey, I’ll follow the rules if you do.” He chuckles as we pull into the drive.
He turns off the ignition and retrieves my bag from the back while I slip on my flip-flops and get out. Instead of handing me my bag, he shrugs it over his right shoulder and surprises me by clasping his left hand to my right, leading me up the porch steps. We stop at the door. Releasing my hand, he faces me and hands me my bag.
“So tomorrow … five o’clock?”
I nod. My eyes move from blue irises to his full lips and back to his eyes. Why do I feel like I’m sixteen and on my first date? Is he going to kiss me? Do I want him to kiss me? What the hell is wrong with me? My pulse quickens. He steps as close as he can to me without actually touching me. Taking a de
ep swallow, I lick my lips that are dry from my heavy panting.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispers.
What?
I’ve never been asked that before. Most guys just do it.
Speak, Sydney!
“Um … I’m leaving in a month.”
Nice … newsflash, he already knows that!
“Then I’d better not linger, huh?”
He rests his finger under my chin and tilts it up as his lips descend to mine. They’re warm and the kiss is gentle and slow. I close my eyes and find myself leaning into it, trying to deepen it. Lautner ends the kiss leaving me wanting more. My knees are weak so I lean back against the door to keep myself upright.
“Goodnight, Sydney.” He turns and walks down the porch steps.
I run the tip of my tongue over my lips. “Night.” I sigh.
CHAPTER THREE
June 5th, 2010
Day three in Palo Alto and I’ve had a handsome veterinarian flirt with me; a hot stranger jump in my pool naked; I surfed, which I swore I’d never do again; and I rubbed my breasts against said hot stranger’s bare chest. Then there were those blue irises and … the kiss.
“Yes, Swarley! I’m up. Jeez, must you lick my entire head?” It’s 7:00 a.m., so much for sleeping in. “Don’t think I didn’t see you licking your ass last night. Now my head is covered in your ass germs. Where are your manners?” I mumble, putting on my jogging shorts and T-shirt. He plops down with his head resting on his front paws that are crossed. I’m getting the “puppy dog” eyes.
“I’m not buying the act. Let’s go.”
I get Swarley his breakfast and there’s a knock at the door.
Approaching the front door, I see Dr. Abbott balancing on one leg while pulling back his other leg to stretch his quads.
“Dr. Abbott … I mean, Dane.”
He wipes the perspiration from his forehead with his arm. “Hey, good morning. Hope I’m not waking you.”
The nervousness in his shaky voice is obvious. As I predicted, his confidence is much higher when he’s wearing his white lab coat.
“I wish, but unfortunately that’s Swarley’s job. You want to come in?” I gesture with my outstretched arm.
“No … or, well yes … or what I mean is I can’t. I have to get ready for work. I just thought I’d see if you were … or if you wanted … well that is if you’re not too busy, to um have dinner tonight … with me? ’Cause, I mean, I’m sure you want dinner, and I like to eat dinner too … so maybe we could eat together. If you want … or not, I mean … whatever.”
Paging Dr. Abbott. There is an impostor in your body and he has diarrhea of the mouth. Please don your white lab coat and come restrain him, STAT!
Swarley finishes with his breakfast and greets Dane with his usual eagerness and signature crotch sniff.
“Hey, Swarley.” He bends down and lets Swarley lick him all over.
Swarley can’t get enough of Dane’s face. He must taste like a salt lick after all that running. I don’t confess Swarley’s anal cleaning habits to Dr. Abbott. I’m sure in his profession he’s exposed to more ass germs than a fly in a barnyard.
“I appreciate the offer, but I have plans tonight. Maybe another time?”
Dane stands as Swarley bolts out the door to chase an unsuspecting squirrel.
“Yeah, sure um … absolutely. How about brunch tomorrow?”
The awkwardly shy doctor is persistent. I think just being in the proximity of an animal gives him a boost of confidence.
“Brunch? Okay, why not?” I’m navigating a slippery slope for only day three, but he is the vet and I can’t alienate my greatest ally in Operation Thirty Days of Swarley.
“Great. I’ll pick you up around eleven?” His face beams.
“Sounds good.” I return a polite smile that doesn’t show my teeth.
“Good, great … um, I’ll see you then … tomorrow. At eleven.”
Swarley gives up on the squirrel and races past us into the house. “Eleven.” I close the door as he turns to jog away.
*
Sunshine, pool, lounge chair, good book, and exhausted dog—it’s going to be a good day.
I took Swarley on an extra-long walk this morning. Then we played frisbee in the yard. Now he’s passed out in the lounge chair next to me. Mission accomplished.
I reach for my phone and call Avery.
“Hey, Sam. What happened to my phone call yesterday? Were you too busy doing the nasty with the pool guy?”
“Avery, last I knew you had my number too. I was home all evening. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Hmm, let me think … where was I last night?”
“Let me guess. Over-served and passed out in some stranger’s bed?”
Avery sang in our church choir throughout high school. She and her friends wore purity rings and vowed to save their virginity until their wedding night. Ryan Michelson, also in the church choir, took Avery’s virginity her sophomore year after the homecoming dance. Avery prayed for forgiveness and a spiritual revirginization. Since then, she has treated the purity ring like a vampire daylight ring. As long as she’s wearing the ring, she won’t burn in Hell for her sexual indiscretions.
“I won’t even justify such a hurtful accusation with an answer.”
She doesn’t have to. We both know that’s code for “WTF happened to me last night?”
“Anyway, enough about me. What happened with the pool guy?”
“Well, you were right. Pool guys don’t look like that. Long story short … he showed up here by mistake, wrong address. Apparently he thought he ‘took a wrong turn for all the right reasons’ and so he played along with my assumption that he was the pool guy.”
“He said that? Oh my God, how romantic.” Avery’s sappy voice is a shrill.
“Now, that’s exactly why you end up in the worst relationships, Ave. You think it’s romantic if a guy licks tequila out of your navel.”
“Yeah, well I might not think that if a guy ever said something like that to me. So I take it you called his bluff and kicked his ass to the curb?”
I think for a moment. Do I fill in all the blanks? The skinny dipping. The castration threat. The flowers and pastries. I opt for the sugarcoated highlights.
“I let him know that I was … a little upset. Then he brought me flowers and breakfast yesterday as an apology. We ended up at the beach surfing all afternoon.”
“Stop right there! You surfed again?”
“Yes, I surfed again. It went … fine.” Sugarcoated highlights.
“Are you going to see him again?”
“As a matter of fact, we’re having pizza and beer tonight.”
“Does he know about your inability to commit?” she questions in a mocking tone.
“Pot. Kettle. Black. Don’t even go there with me, Miss I-Don’t-Know-Where-I-Woke-Up-This-Morning. Yes, he knows I’m leaving in a month and I’m not looking for a relationship. In fact, he’s not either. He’s getting ready to start his residency in pediatrics.”
“No. Fucking. Way!”
“Way … so don’t get all up in my face about some guy who will drift out of my life as quickly as he drifted in.”
“If you say so. I guess that means you won’t mind if I test your pool guy out when I come to visit.”
Do I mind if she tries to sleep with Lautner when she comes to visit next week? Over my dead body, slutty little sister!
“Whatever. It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” I say in a casual voice while I twirl my hair around my finger.
“Great! I can’t wait. See you next week.”
“Bye, Ave.”
*
Avery is right, although I will never say those words out loud. My stern focus on nothing but achieving my goals is usually a turnoff to most guys. They’d be fine with a one-night stand, but that’s Avery, not me. So I end up being the unattainable “tease.” And by “tease” I mean men thinking that if a girl is attractive but not promiscuous, she is a teas
e. I rarely show interest in guys; I notice them, but I don’t actively look for them. My current situation is different. Truthfully, I wasn’t looking for anyone. Swarley got sick, so Dr. Abbott’s office was an unexpected but necessary trip my first day, and Lautner … well, he too was unexpected, but a nice surprise. I can do casual. Fear of commitment is usually what kills a relationship. Good thing neither one of us is looking for commitment.
Looking in the full-length mirror, I give myself a nod of approval. I’ve chosen a pastel striped bandeau bikini top with a string tie bottom. Over it I’m wearing a hot pink, above the knee spaghetti strap sundress, and my toenails are painted a matching pink. My long brown hair is ironed straight with a wisp of bangs off to the side.
“What do you think, Swarley?” He’s sprawled out at the end of the bed keeping a watchful eye on me.
“I agree. I look appropriately hot. Not too slutty, not too prudish.”
It’s a few minutes before five o’clock and I turn on the surround sound system. A playlist from my iPhone flows through both the indoor and outdoor speakers. Kings of Leon’s “Use Somebody” starts when there is a knock at the door. I’m nervous. It’s ridiculous since we spent most of the day together yesterday, but it ended with a kiss and that’s where my body is still frozen.
“Hey.” I greet Lautner with a nervous smile.
He’s wearing red board shorts and a gray Stanford shirt. My brilliant assumption is that he attended college at Stanford. He’s holding a pizza box in one hand and a six-pack of bottled beer in the other. At the moment, his blue irises drink me in and my skin blushes from the heat of his gaze.
“Hey, yourself. You look … amazing.”
“Thanks, um … come in.” I take the pizza box and head to the kitchen. “Smells good. I’m hungry.”
“I forgot to ask what kind of pizza you like so I played it safe and ordered veggie, no onion.”
Hmm, is he assuming I don’t like onion or that we don’t need onion breath for … whatever reason?
“Perfect. Let’s eat out on the deck.”
I set the pizza on the table as Swarley greets Lautner, thankfully not with the eagerness that he does Dr. Abbott. It might just be me, but the tension is thick. I’ve been hanging since Lautner kissed me last night, and I want him to hurry up and do it again so I can relax and not spend the evening wondering when or even if it’s going to happen again.