“Come on, let’s get to the front,” Lana said, leaning into my ear.
Then my expectations swung in the opposite direction: what if he thought he’d never see me again and was with one of the groupies at the front? I don’t know what would crush me more: the disappointment or the embarrassment.
“No, there are too many people.” As I spoke those words, an arm snaked around Lana’s shoulder.
She turned, gripped Leo by the lapels of his jacket, and pulled him in for a kiss. When they finally let go of each other, he waved at me and motioned for us to follow. He took Lana by the hand, and Lana took me by mine. To my horror, we pushed to the front. The memory of approaching Miles in Koh Phangan and the ensuing disaster flashed in my mind.
Nestling into the crowd, I ignored the girls who were not so subtly pulling down their tops to show off more cleavage, vying for his attention. But his eyes remained firmly shut. And so I pushed my insecure thoughts out and melted into his languid and lyrical voice that was as rich and smooth as velvet, with memories of Goa flooding my mind. The exquisite touch of his callused fingertips and the way he smelled of summer and tasted of sin.
And now he was in front of me. And I could finally inhale him guilt free.
His voice was as soft as pillow talk when he crooned the final words of the song. And when the last word had fallen from his lips, his leaden eyes opened, meeting mine instantly. A mixture of surprise, relief, and something a little darker flashed in them. I bit my lip and dropped my gaze to the wood-paneled floor as the crowd broke into applause.
“Thank you,” he said with a nod to his new fans before resting the guitar against the stool.
His eyes found mine again, and he crossed the stage, stepped from it, and closed the gap between us. Before I could utter a word, my lips softened under his. As he pulled away he gently tugged my bottom lip with his teeth, stealing my breath.
“Hi,” I exhaled as that curious feeling unfurled in the pit of my stomach. “I…ugh…Liked your performance.”
Smooth, Harper, real smooth.
He tucked a rogue strand of hair behind my ear, looking at me as if committing each and every feature of my face to memory. “That song always makes me think of you.”
My breathing became ragged, and I wanted nothing more than to feel his hands on my skin. It was then I realized we had lost Lana and Leo.
“Did you take the Kiwi Experience?” I asked.
He nodded. “Stray?”
Of course, we took separate buses. And, of course, we would have to separate so soon after finding each other.
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh, “we leave for Christchurch first thing tomorrow morning.”
Seven A.M. to be exact.
“Let’s not waste any time then,” he said, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. “Dance with me.”
At this point, the DJ had taken over for the live performers, playing Top 40 hits. Xavier led me to the center of the dance floor, then pulled me hip-to-hip as Akon’s “Right Now” pulsed. We teased each other with each song, moving close to the corner. Despite my sobriety, I was still drunk on adrenaline and became bolder and bolder. I turned and grinded into him for “Rude Boy,” he took a fistful of my hair and brushed the shell of my ear with his lips for “Best I Ever Had,” and when the DJ slowed it down for Jeremiah’s “Birthday Sex,” I took action.
I whispered in his ear, “It wouldn’t happen to be your birthday, would it?”
His lips moved to a spot where my ear met my neck that made me shudder. “For you, it can be.”
“Want to go celebrate?”
As if a primal urge took over, he pressed me against the wall and covered my mouth with his. Instinctively, I arched my back and pushed my lips into him, the tightening in my stomach almost too much to bear. He pulled at the belt loops on my jeans as my fingers found the tattoos on his strong arms. When the desire to celebrate pushed at my zipper, he rested his forehead against mine, his eyes liquid with desire.
“Come back to my hostel.”
He pressed his lips to mine once more, placing a feather soft kiss on my bottom lip, a kiss so gentle yet so erotic I couldn’t stand that we had to wait any more time.
***
With fingers interlaced, we practically ran to my hostel, ignoring the bitter chill of the freezing air. However, as we kissed and wandered the halls we couldn’t find anywhere secluded. The hostel life was not conducive to privacy. The fluorescent lighting eliminated any possibility of shadowy corners, and the constant flow of human traffic made solitude an impossible find.
Though we couldn’t find anywhere to be alone, we weren’t ready to let each other go for the night, so after stumbling into the kitchen-cum-common-room on the second floor, we decided to play a round of pool. But it only increased the sexual charge in the air. We teased each other, flashing skin, bending over, and posing seductively to distract each other, and stole kisses between shots. He beat me three games to two. And after the deciding game, we were alone in the common room.
I leaned against the table, looked up through my lashes and purred, “So what now?”
He stepped forward and pushed me onto the felt, his hips between my thighs. I whimpered with the feathery strokes of his tongue on my swelling lips. He pulled a fistful of my hair with one hand, and his other hand ventured beneath my shirt. His lips skated down my neck, igniting the skin along the way. I leaned back, relishing the pleasure, when I spotted the camera.
“Xavier.”
He nipped at my ear at the sound of his name. “I’ve waited so long for this.”
“Xavier. Stop. Please.”
Respecting my plea, he pulled back, his hair an absolute mess. I pointed up to the camera in the corner of the room above his head. He flashed a wolfish grin so dark I considered letting him devour me there and giving security a show.
“There must be somewhere private,” I whispered, even though we were alone in the room.
Without breaking eye contact, he took my hands, kissed my knuckles, and pulled me from the table and checked the floors we hadn’t before. Even though the halls were now empty, privacy was still impossible to find. The utility closets were locked, the bedrooms were full of sleeping bodies, and every inch of the public spaces were under the scrutiny of Big Brother.
“There is one place where there are no cameras,” he said, leading me down the hallway. He paused outside of the men’s bathroom door.
“You’re not serious.” I was not the kind of girl to have sex in a public place.
Was I?
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t —”
Before he could finish his sentence, I dragged him through the door and into the nearest stall.
Chapter 27
“God, I missed you,” he whispered. I stifled a moan as I unzipped his hoodie. “Shhh, someone will catch us.”
A stall in the men’s communal bathroom at nearly five in the morning certainly wasn’t the romantic setting I had hoped for our first time. My eight roommates, however, would have been less than pleased if I brought him back to my bunk bed.
As clothes fell, the warmth of his hands on my body offset the cold Formica of the stall door against my back. His lips skated from my chest to the threshold of my panties with his rough stubble tickling me. Hooking the silk with his thumbs, he tugged them down. I stared down at his beautiful almost boyish face framed by the shock of inky black hair. I had been longing to rake my fingers through it. My eyes followed the trail of etchings of lyrics and music notes and stanzas on his golden skin down to the tight lacing of muscle across his torso. He was more beautiful than I remembered.
He sat on the closed seat stark naked at full salute. He reached into the pocket of his jeans that lay on the floor and produced a foil wrapper. It was then that I paused.
This was really going to happen. I never thought of myself as the girl who would have sex in a bathroom stall at five in the morning with a guy I barely knew.
What am I doing?<
br />
I froze as he placed his hands on my ass and gently pulled me forward. Leaning in he kissed me on the sensitive spot ever so slightly inside of, and ever so slightly south of, my hipbones. First the right side, then the left. I tugged on his hair and bit my lip to stop from crying out.
He looked up at me, his eyes dark and lidded, and then he completely devastated me with the words, “I adore you.”
Fuck it.
I grabbed the wrapper and tore it open for him.
His strong arms wrapped around me as I sank into him. He hissed through clenched teeth as I took his lips between mine. Waves of pent up desire rippled from my marrow to my curling toes with the first rock of my hips. He sucked on that sensitive spot on my neck I never knew existed, and I shuddered and dug my nails into his back. Then…
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Both our bodies froze as the stall shook, the sound reverberating through the entire room.
“Look, guys,” a familiar monotone voice bellowed. “You have to leave. You can’t do…that…in here.”
I recognized the voice as the awkward guy who worked reception late night. Though I had only interacted with him once when I lost my key after a night out at World Bar the night before, I suddenly felt embarrassed at my actions. Even though the vodka orange I had at World Bar had long since left my system, they were the actions of a drunk and horny teenager. Still intoxicated with adrenaline from skydiving, I had lost total control of myself. Then I was brought straight back to myself at nineteen years old on a beanbag with Miles and a terrifying thought echoed in my skull: Now that he’s had me, is he done with me?
I raised myself off of him and reached for my clothes, covering my nakedness with my hands.
“Hey,” he whispered, resting his hand on my forearm, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lied, feigning a slight smile.
We dressed in silence. Our interrupter stood in the hallway, making sure we heeded his instructions. I shrank under the weight of his judgmental eyes, wishing the ground would swallow up one of us. Passing him, I made a beeline for my room at the end of the hallway, unable to pinpoint the epicenter of the tremor of emotions shaking me: shame, anxiety, fear?
After my night with Miles I didn’t hear from him for seven years, and that was only because he was looking for company in his new circumstances. Xavier didn’t come to New Zealand for me — he and Leo already had planned this destination long ago, would he too move on to the next girl? After all, I was leaving for Christchurch in less than two hours.
“Harper,” Xavier said, pulling me back gently by the hand before I made it to the door. “I’ll be in Wellington next week. I have to see you again. I can’t lose you.”
There was something about looking into the eyes of my partner in crime that lessened my feelings of shame. And even after plummeting to Earth from fifteen thousand feet, I had never felt more alive than I had in that stall with him. “Find me on Facebook. Harper Rodrigues on the Toronto network.”
And then he left me at the threshold of my dorm with a deep kiss that made my head spin.
***
Needless to say, I had some explaining to do when my alarm sounded an hour and a half after I crept into bed, still wearing my clothes from the night before.
“Nice hickey,” Jade said winking at me.
I pulled a mirror from my makeup purse and saw a large purple bruise on my neck. My face turned a complimentary shade of red as a dirty little smile carved my lips.
Thankfully, as the girls begin their inquisition, Lana strolled through the door. Hair mussed, and wearing smile that didn’t crack, she was more than willing to recount her night. After packing up, we made our way to the reception. As I handed my key back to the guy who had caught me in flagrante in the men’s bathroom two hours ago, I couldn’t meet his eyes. I simply slid it across the desk and turned around.
On the bus, in between naps and sightseeing stops at sky-blue lakes, I had nothing but time to think about my night before. Even though the insecure thoughts that he would forget about me niggled at me, a louder, more confident part reminded me that unlike that night with Miles, I was in control of the situation last night. And if Xavier did forget about me, then it would be his loss.
And then, as if on cue, my mind began to wander to the logistics of how we would make a long-distance relationship work and what our future children would look like…
Eight hours later, we arrived in Christchurch and bid our Japanese friends goodbye. The following day after catching up on missed sleep, the girls and I ate brunch and wandered the city seeking native Maori culture at the Canterbury Museum, window shopping on the high street, and following a friendly local to a great ‘fush and chips’ joint.
Later that afternoon, Jade and Lana and I stopped in the café next to the hostel for green tea and coffee. I ran up to the room to grab my laptop, rejoined them at a table next to the window, sipped my foamy latte, and logged into Facebook. A tremor of nerves shook me when I saw the friend request and message waiting for me from Xavier Northam.
Harper, I’m so glad I found you. I had so much fun with you last night. When are you going to be in Wellington? I’ll be there in four days. I need to see you again.
The time was stamped as lunchtime today. He wanted to see me again. Then a new fear crept in. The paradoxical fear of getting what you want. The paradox created by the fear that you may lose what you want and the ensuing pain. Pain I knew well. Before responding I clicked on his name, and his profile popped up. In his profile picture, he sat on a cliff overlooking Palolem, guitar in hand, wearing nothing but board shorts. And then I saw his date of birth.
“He’s how old?” I blurted out. Jade and Lana snapped up at me. I knew he was a bit younger, but I had no idea how much so. “Xavier didn’t just graduate university. He’s nineteen.”
His face was youthful, but the thick facial and body hair added years to him. Damn that Mediterranean blood. The kid must have been born with a five o’clock shadow.
“So?” Lana said with a cheeky smile.
“So? He just graduated high school. He’s a teenager.”
Lana’s smile grew dirtier and dirtier.
I handed through almost clenched teeth. “Did you know they were this young?”
“Leo might have said something about being on a gap year before university back in Palolem, and I might have enjoyed the whole cougar thing.”
My eyes shot daggers at her, and my mouth hung agape.
“What?” Don’t look at me like that. Younger men have more stamina and are far more eager to please.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t think it was a big deal. You were trying to ignore him then anyways.” She took a sip of her latte. “Don’t tell me you’re going to let that ruin your romance.”
Instead of responding, I thought I would get a second opinion.
“Jade, would you sleep with someone that young?”
“I’m celibate again,” she said as a smile quirked her lips. “But I think absorbing his youthful energy could be a good thing for you.”
I said nothing more, logged out of Facebook, and slid my computer across the table to Jade so she could use it. They couldn’t understand what I was feeling after my past experiences. After Miles I decided that I was done with boys, I needed a man and there was no way that a nineteen-year-old could be mature enough. But even if he was, we were at such dramatically different stages in life. I wanted a career and family as soon as possible.
He couldn’t give me the future I want, so what was the point?
Twenty-five-year-old woman, nineteen-year-old boy. I could only imagine what he and Leo were telling his friends about us. And I had the hickey to remind me every time I looked in the mirror.
***
The next morning, we boarded a train bound for Picton at the northern tip of the South Island. With the gorges, hidden valleys, and a volcano spewing out a towering plume of smoke, the rugged eastern coastline
was a breathtaking journey. Unfortunately, I couldn’t ask the train to pull over so I could take pictures, and so with nothing to distract me, I convinced myself that I could take things no further with Xavier. As much as I liked the idea of him, I had my future to consider, and I couldn’t waiver from my five-year plan. My regained sense of control had been my lifeline since Audrey’s death, I feared to think what would happen if I lost it again.
Once we made it to Picton, we hopped on a ferry and motored through the spectacular Cook Straight. We stood on the upper deck, inhaling the crisp air as archipelagoes of unspoiled evergreen islands gave way to shimmering blue sea and after three and a half hours we saw the cityscape of Wellington and entered the harbour.
To our great fortune, Lana’s Australian cousins owned an apartment in Wellington, and its tenants had moved out the month prior, leaving it empty, and they allowed us to stay in it. Though the capital city was famous for its blustery weather, we happened upon a series of warm and sunny days. After the chill of the South Island, it was a welcome break. Still unsure of what to say to Xavier, I ignored the niggling thoughts of replying to him as we soaked up the sunshine exploring the city’s botanical gardens, museums, and quirky boutiques. I liked Wellington. I liked New Zealand, in general. The cities didn’t have that big city overwhelming feeling; they had charm, energy and sprawling green spaces.
During the three nights we spent in Wellington, we decided to rent a car and make our own itinerary for the North Island. Lana’s cousins had mapped one out for her when she stayed with them — tomorrow we would pick up the car and drive to Taupo, and then Rotorua, Waitomo, and Bay of Islands. Our road trip would finish in Auckland in time to catch our flight to Fiji.
Runaways Page 26