by Ivy Raine
Marta’s breath hitched on his words. She’d heard them before in the not-too-distant past.
“I might be leaving.” Kyle stood with his head down and his hands in his pockets. “They’re definitely getting divorced.”
Marta almost choked on the lump rising up in her throat. “They can’t!” Kyle’s parents were almost as dear to her as her own. She’d spent countless hours in their home, eating their food and partaking as part of the family. This just couldn’t be happening.
“Sucks.” A single tear stubbornly inched its way down Kyle’s cheek. “Especially after all Mom went through. I can’t believe he cheated on her!”
“Come on.” Marta tugged at the cuff of his jacket. “Let’s go to our secret spot.”
The unassuming little peninsula jutted out into the lake, and as Marta and Kyle made their way across the muddy patch of ground that barred it from being a full island, the peninsula came to life. Geese squawked and ran ahead of them, leading them to their fishing spot on the far end of the thumb in the water, while a flurry of bunnies hopped into the shrubs lining the grassy shores. A heron stood on one foot in the shallow water near the rocky spot where they cast their lines in the summer. He cocked his head, curiosity overcoming his instinct to fly away.
Kyle and Marta scrambled up on the rocks. The chill from the rocks raced up their backs, reminding them that winter was just around the corner. They pulled their hoods up and tied them down tight. The October winds coming from the lake stung their cheeks with its cold.
“This might be the last time we come here together.” Kyle picked up a smooth pebble and jettisoned it far out into the water. The plop created a ring that grew and grew until it petered out and disappeared. Sometimes life is just like the rings. A single event creates the rings, but eventually they cease to exist.
“We’ll still be friends.” Marta wondered if they’d be like the rings and gently fade into nothing.
“I won’t let them take you away from me.” Kyle’s bitter words, so full of anger and confusion, gnawed away at Marta. “Maybe your parents’ll let me stay with you for a while. You have two perfectly good spare bedrooms that no one’s using.”
Marta knew that would never happen, but she didn’t have the heart to tell him. It was no secret that her parents didn’t feel the same level of warmth toward him as he’d like, but that wouldn’t stop brazen Kyle from asking.
“Maybe they’ll change their minds and not get divorced.”
Marta had seen what she could only describe as subtle devastation inflicted on kids of broken homes. Their parents would divorce, their grades would suffer for six months, and by the time the school year was about to end, the kid would finally pull it all together making a spectacular ‘recovery’ worthy of parental pride. The only problem is the fact that the student only did well to make his parents happy again – something that no child should ever feel responsible for.
Kyle shook his head. “Nope. Mom’s talking about New York and Dad’s already checking out rentals in Minnesota.”
Marta scrunched up her nose. “Minnesota?”
“Go figure.” Kyle shrugged and picked up another pebble. “I think I’ll polish this one,” he said, shoving it down in his pocket. “I’ll put it on a chain so I remember this day.” Reaching down, he found a similar pebble. “This can be yours, and we can wear them and remember – together – no matter how far apart we are.”
The sun made a hurried appearance from behind the black and silver clouds dominating the sky. It lit up Kyle’s eyes, highlighting the beautiful golden hue rimming his pupils. Marta did her best to scratch this moment into her memory. She wanted to remember him exactly like this - the real Kyle – the elusive one that appeared as often as a blue moon.
A teen on a skateboard whizzed by, breaking Marta’s visit to her past.
“Where were you?” Stash gave her hand a quick squeeze.
Marta shrugged. “No where in particular.” She reached out and ran her palm across the tops of the flowers planted along the boardwalk. Kyle would have liked the flowers. They were the perfect type for plucking and scattering on long, rambling walks. “Home. That’s all.”
Stash snugged her hand tighter in his. “Good thoughts, I hope.”
“Most thoughts of home are good.” Marta breathed in the fresh, ocean air, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost believe that it was her and Kyle walking along hand in hand on one of their hot, summer escapades. Subconscious reflex caused her to grip Stash’s hand harder. What she wouldn’t give to be holding Kyle’s hand right now. There was nothing she wouldn’t sacrifice to have a friendship like that again. Not before and not since had another been able to take his place.
A spoiled gull swooped down toward the boardwalk to snatch a dropped French fry. Marta watched as the hungry bird scooped it up before disappearing high in the sea of sparkling silver wings hovering above them.
“Sometimes I wish I could just up and fly away.”
Stash looked up. “Me, too. It feels good to leave your troubles far behind. A person feels lighter in every sense.”
Marta shot him a look. “You sound like you know all about it.”
Though he smiled, Stash seemed to be hiding something – a painful something. “I think we all know a little about it in some sense, beautiful. It’s human instinct to run away from our troubles when they get too heavy. It’s a body’s way of preserving our sanity.”
Marta leaned over and bumped him with her shoulder. “And what are you running from?”
“Oh, just myself. One of these days I’m gonna catch up to myself and then there’ll be hell to pay.”
Looking up at Stash, Marta wondered what Kyle would have thought. Would he be angry with her for ‘replacing’ him, or would he encourage her? A dart of pain shot through her heart. She’d waited six long years before venturing back into ‘friend’ waters, and it still felt too soon.
“Why do things have to change?”
Stash raised a brow. “What things?”
“This. Us. Why can’t it just stay like this? Friends forever.”
Jamming his free hand down into his pocket, Stash fished out five dollars and snatched up some cotton candy as they went by the vendor.
“Because we’re not made to be simply friends.” He stuffed a wad of blue raspberry fluff into her mouth before tearing off a chunk for himself. “Men and women can only be friends as an addendum to being lovers.”
Marta rolled her eyes. “Well, I know that’s not true. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Stash struggled to swallow his cotton candy. “In your mind, maybe.”
Looking straight into his ever-veiled eyes, Marta delved deep, struggling to penetrate that wall he’d sealed up around himself. “And in yours?”
The veil turned to lead, sealing in the truth that he was afraid to reveal. “I’ll leave that to your imagination.”
Marta stewed about that little comment for the rest of the day. What were they if they weren’t friends?
When night fell, Marta was inexplicably happy that Stash was home with her, but his words from earlier were stuck in her head, going round and round. Not friends and not lovers? Marta lay back on the overstuffed down pillow and closed her eyes. Something, it seemed, was missing in between the two. Sleep, much-needed and welcomed, soon overtook her, and even the sound of the fast-moving thunderstorm couldn’t jar her awake.
Chapter 8
“You’ve been putting in a lot of overtime. Maybe you should slow down.”
The next morning was wet, but bright, beautiful, and promised to be hot.
Marta kicked off her sandals and put her feet up on the dash. “I’ve been there for barely a month. I can’t really turn down my boss if I plan on keeping this job.” She reached over and nudged Stash. “Let’s forget about work. It’s my last day off.”
Stash wasn’t giving up. “This Mr. Mirelli seems to have taken an unusual interest in you, don’t you think?”
He had, but
Marta had no intention of telling Stash that. “No more than any of the other girls. Besides, what does it matter to you? We’re friends, remember?”
Stash grunted. “That was your idea, beautiful.”
Marta let that one go. He didn’t understand. Kyle would have understood – at least for a while.
“Where are you taking me, anyway?” The scenery whizzing by didn’t look familiar.
“My secret spot.”
The glee he got in revealing that bit of information made Marta smile. He was like a little boy who was lost, without his mother, and Marta was the substitute.
“Is this secret spot in a secluded area where you can murder me without being detected?”
Stash gave her the look. “Of course it is. Do you think I’m stupid?”
Marta whacked him with the back of her hand. “You’d better be kidding or I’ll have to use my karate skills on you.”
“Seriously. You’re gonna love it.”
“It’s not the beach, is it? Because I really hate the sand.” She’d managed to avoid the beach for the last month – a feat that astounded her considering it was a short walk out their back door. The farthest she’d ventured was to the hammock twenty feet behind the cottage.
“I thought you loved the beach?”
“Ocean, Stash. Ocean. I can love one without the other, can’t I?” Marta’s logic fit perfectly: to get to the ocean, you need to go through the sand, and if you don’t go through the sand, you can’t get to the ocean. What’s not to understand?
“I always thought they went hand in hand, but who am I to second guess the house breadwinner.” Stash was a bit sensitive about that part.
When they neared the ‘secret spot’, Stash made her close her eyes. “Don’t look until I say it’s okay, no matter what you hear.”
Marta flinched. “I don’t like the sound of that.” She wound her window down and closed her eyes. The wind batting at her ears reminded her of that last day with Kyle. It was unusually windy that day, too. Maybe that’s why she didn’t hear him call for help, or maybe he hadn’t called out at all. If he had, surely she would have heard him – unless she suppressed the memory out of guilt. A tear slipped from Marta’s eye and blew back toward her ear. She wondered just how long her mind was going to torture her.
“Hang on. We’re going around a sharp bend.” Stash reached out and held onto Marta’s arm while they rounded the corner. “Almost there. No peeking!”
Something tantalizing – a smell like none other – tickled her nose. “What’s that smell?”
“Honeysuckle. It grows like weeds up here.”
Marta breathed in again. “That’s the most intoxicating weed I’ve ever encountered.”
Stash let out a hearty laugh. “Then you’ve not encountered the right kind of weed. Not that I’d know anything about that.” His words stumbled over themselves trying to leave his mouth. “Just a joke, beautiful.”
The car slowed to a crawl, and something clanked like metal against metal followed by a rusty squeak in need of a few drops of oil. A man’s voice beckoned them forward. Marta’s eyes fluttered as she struggled to keep them closed.
“Thank you, Jack.” Apparently Stash knew the owner of the voice.
“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Steele.”
“A little farther, beautiful.”
Straining to hear through the barrage of singing birds, Marta cocked her head to the side. “Well, I know we’re not on the highway anymore.” A little dog yipped somewhere in the distance. “Are we at a park?”
Stash laughed. “Not exactly.” The car lurched to a stop. “Okay. Open.”
Marta hesitated, trying to guess what would be there when she opened her eyes. “Okay. Here goes.”
“Like it?”
“Oh, my!” Marta hung out the window trying to get a three sixty of the estate they were sitting in the middle of. “Can I get out?”
“That’s why we’re here.” Stash wasted no time in jumping out, and within seconds he was greeted by a white ball of fur bounding across the perfectly manicured lawn. “Rosko!” The little dog danced around his legs, yapping like he’d found his long, lost friend.
“Where are we?” Marta knelt down and burrowed her fingers in Rosko’s soft fur.
“My brother’s vacation home. He’s a rich little bastard.”
The enormous mansion, decked out in white columns and a sky room, shot up from the lawn and emerged gracefully between ancient oaks.
“He won’t mind if we’re here?” Marta hated venturing where she wasn’t wanted. It didn’t bother some people to trespass, but it irked the hell out of her.
“I cleared it with him yesterday,” said Stash. “We share everything, remember?” Something in his voice ventured to the dark side. “Even our women. But,” he said, brightening up, “we’re here to have fun.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Marta spun around, taking in the finery. “This place is fantastic.”
“Over there,” said Stash, pointing through a thicket of trees, “is the beach. It’s all pebbles – no sand. And we’re going.”
Marta felt the color draining from the smile she managed to keep plastered on her face. “Do we have to?”
Stash wrapped one arm around her and yanked Marta to him. “Whatever’s wedged in that head of yours needs to be let out,” he said. “It’s sucking the life right out of you.” Stash hesitated, but when Marta didn’t try to pull away, he bent down and kissed her – long and hard.
Marta unlocked her lips from Stash’s and leaned away with Stash still hanging tight to her waist. “Oh, my god! We can’t be doing this!”
Stash got close to her face and raised one of his perfectly formed brows. “And just why not? This is what we were made to do.”
“Oh, no. Not me,” she said, unraveling from the death grip he had on her. “Haven’t you seen the movie? This type of thing ends the friendship.”
Stash grabbed her again, only this time he used both arms to hold her fast. “Maybe I want it to end. Maybe you want it to end. Maybe I’m sick and tired of being tortured by your morning routine.”
Marta opened her mouth to protest, but Stash was right. She liked how it felt when he devoured her with his eyes, and she made no effort to cover up with a robe when she got out of bed each morning. She knew it was cruel, but she thought she was safe. Now she wanted to slap herself for being so naïve, if that’s even the right word for what she’d been doing. Most twenty-two year old women she knew had already been around the block a half a dozen times with a half a dozen men, so how was Stash to know she wasn’t really trying to seduce him? Then it hit her. Maybe she was trying to seduce him.
“I’m … sorry,” she stuttered. “I just-.” She stopped. It was pointless.
The look on Stash’s face revealed the bold, blaring, truth. “Uh, huh. You don’t have to try and explain. You and I both know exactly what you’ve been doing. And do you know what really pisses me off? You pull out the ‘friend’ card, and then you do your level best to torture me.”
Marta felt her dignity being infringed upon, and she yanked herself away. “I’ve not been doing anything, Stash Steele! It’s not my fault your mind’s in places it doesn’t belong.”
“Oh, it belongs there, all right.” He reached back and shoved the passenger side door shut. “And you like it.”
There was no way to deny that without being untruthful, so Marta pinched her lips together and crossed her arms. Why couldn’t she just trust herself again?
The fire in his eyes subsided. “Come on, you dope. We’ve got three hundred private acres to enjoy. Let’s not let one simple, little kiss ruin the day.”
Stash grabbed her hand and pulled her across the vast, lush lawn. He was talking but she wasn’t really hearing it. The only thing that kept running through her mind was his words: one, simple, little kiss. Is that what he categorized it as, because Marta didn’t. She hadn’t been kissed like that since-.
“Just a qu
ick one,” Kyle whispered as he pulled her behind the ancient rhododendron. “Everyone needs a birthday kiss.”
Marta put up a good front with a half-assed attempt at a struggle, but she was more than a little curious to see what drew the girls to him. Pinning her between the house and the rhododendron, Kyle swooped in and wrapped his arms around her waist. He towered above her now by a good eight inches. And to think they were neck and neck for a few years.
When his lips hit hers, Marta felt a jolt of electricity between them and she wondered if Kyle felt it, too. At first, he was gentle and steady, but before long, his tongue was out and his hands were busy.
“Stop!” Breathless, Marta tried to shove him away. “What if someone finds us?”
Kyle bent down lower and nipped at her tank strap with his teeth. “They won’t,” he groaned, sliding her strap from her shoulder. At some point her left breast became exposed and she didn’t even care. She was too wrapped up in his lips to care what was happening.
“Hey! Are you still mad? You act like you’re not even listening. Don’t make me kiss you again.”
Marta fluttered back to reality and looked up into his lovely eyes – eyes full of injured lust. She could see the pain of rejection. She knew all about that and she knew what it could do to a person.
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to push away her feelings. She hated being the type of person to analyze every single word for hidden meanings. “I really am.”
Stash walked slower now, swinging her arm back and forth with his. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. It’s just that – you have no idea what you do to me, Marta. I’ve tried everything. I’ve imagined you as a guy, a friend, my sister – nothing works. And it usually doesn’t work,” he admitted, “because I always end it by imagining you completely naked. But, it’s a lovely thought to fall asleep to.”
Marta’s face got hot. She ran her free hand down her side, resting it on her hip, and she wondered if he was photoshopping her with his mind. “Fantasy and reality are vastly different.”