Not that she sugarcoated anything. Things still sucked. But he...trusted her? She didn’t have an angle.
That wasn’t completely right; she had an angle, but it wasn’t a problem for him. Did not interfere with his. That was part of his job, to keep track of past angles and predict future ones. Exhausting as fuck, but it was his default setting.
Not anymore. Doesn’t have to be.
He liked learning, right? He said as much at least once today, this odd day. So he should be paying attention to the mini lecture happening now as they stood at the driveway of the Catala, the hotel that was apparently their last stop for the day. Naya was explaining the work that went into the restoration of the buildings that formed the compound that comprised this hotel. Something about the value of preserving the art we use. Instead, that was only the soundtrack to watching her against the backdrop of a beautiful building and a purple then orange sky. At some point, she’d lost the ponytail and her hair was free, dark brown, and down past her shoulders. When he felt he shouldn’t be looking at her like that, he looked down. He saw her sneakers, saw how she pointed her foot, how she turned her body by the hip when describing their location.
Ben stepped back, tried to put more distance between him and Naya, which didn’t make sense because she was all the way over there anyway, and he was already lingering at the fringe of the group. That step brought him slightly closer to a conversation already happening.
“...really looking forward to this. I mean lunch was awesome, but I’ve been meaning to try the food here.” That was Danny, the guy traveling with Dexter from the ad agency, and Jana, the lady traveling with the other guy.
“I have,” Jana said. “The lamb’s excellent. And the drink with the little jellies.”
“Have you tried the food here, Ben?”
Ben was not expecting to be spoken to, but the gears shifted and he cleared his throat. “No, no I haven’t. I didn’t even know this place was already open.”
For someone who had never spoken to Ben before that moment, Danny was great at just going with it. Ben admired that in people, envied it sometimes. “I’ve been bugging Dexter for the longest time. Well, not so long—the hotel’s been open maybe less than a year. But yeah. I can’t stand his work hours, and I could’ve gone with other friends already, but I wanted to go here with him first, you know?”
“You’re here now,” Ben said, “but also with a tour group.”
“Oh,” Danny waved a hand dismissively. “I like people. This is fine.”
“You work for the government?” Jana asked, but it was the polite and somewhat detached tone of someone who didn’t live in the country and probably had little idea what that could mean.
“I used to,” Ben said. “Speechwriter. When did you move to Manila?”
“Ten months ago. It’s a secondment, but they haven’t told me yet what the next assignment is so I want to go on these tours as much as I can.”
“What do you do?”
“Finance.” Jana laughed. “It’s not so interesting to talk about.”
“I work in construction,” Danny said. “So don’t tell me about boring. But it doesn’t have to be; there’s a story everywhere. Being at a hotel like this can get me all geeky. I heard nice things about the tiles they used.”
“I’d rather talk about tiles than my job,” Ben admitted.
“Danny, Jana,” Naya called. “We can head inside now.” She eyed him like she was wondering what he had done or said to them, and he held his hands up because he had nothing.
Later, and as a pleasant surprise, his hand then held a cold bottle of craft beer and it was Naya who put it there. It wasn’t part of the prepped dinner for the tour but dinner was over, and they were encouraged to look around and see as much as they could of the Catala before Naya sent them off.
Ben didn’t feel like going around. Instead he stepped out onto the balcony of the second-floor restaurant, following the tile pattern all the way to the railing. The tiles were pretty, not that he ever thought about it before. It was nice that people cared enough about the things that some people would never notice.
Naya followed him out, and gave him the beer. He could see the courtyard pool, a gazebo, several benches, a small garden. Dexter and Danny were down there, but the others were in the building still.
“So this is what your day looks like,” Ben said.
She smiled at him, letting out a breath, allowing herself to deflate a little. “The places change, but yeah, if by dinner I’m at a nice place with great food, that’s a good day.”
“You do that for people, too.”
“What?”
“You give people a day like that. You give them a good day.”
Naya tipped her bottle and drank. “I guess I do. It’s not a bad gig.”
“You're amazing.”
“Am I.”
“You know I’m not shitting you.”
“You write spin for a living.”
“I’d debate you on that, but you know I’m not overstating. I’m not lying. I’m not even mildly exaggerating. You are amazing.”
“Oh. You are too, Ben.”
“You don’t have to return the compliment.”
“Yeah, maybe learn to recognize a truth when it’s being said to you too, mister. I think you’ve had a rough day, but it’ll get better.”
The sound that came out of Ben was almost laughter. “Do you promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
So many lights around him. Stars behind her. Garden lights. The dancing bright circles reflecting off the pool. And something in her eyes.
“This happens,” she said, softly. The eyes were closer, because she had stepped closer. “It happens to travelers. You’re thrown together on a trip, or a tour, and it’s a confined space for hours at a time. You reveal interesting things about each other. It’s all exciting and new and it’s not exactly the real world. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“I think I do.”
“It happens. You bond during a tour and become best friends, become more than that, you think you’ve met the best person by chance in the strangest place, you promise to keep in touch. And you don’t, but that’s okay. It happens.”
Then her eyes were closer, because he had stepped closer.
He knew what she was saying. Maybe another day he’d ask for her stories, her twenty-four-hour best buddies, if she’d had beach trip hookups, eight-hour soulmates. But he didn’t, because Ben still knew a thing or two about words. Sometimes he could make it about himself.
“Is that a bad thing?” Ben asked her. “Everything you just said.”
“I don’t hook up while I’m working,” Naya said.
He took a gulp and the bitter, sweet, nutty, fruity brew rolled down his throat. “What time is it?”
There was a clock somewhere on the wall behind him, he assumed, because she tilted her head and then smirked. “Eight p.m.”
“How long is your work day, really?”
Her eyes twinkled he was damn sure of it. “Look at that, I’m off the clock.”
“That’s great.”
“It is.”
“What do you mean by—”
The next half step was hers; her lips claimed his. Soft lips, pushing, opening, taking his lips, his mouth. He pushed back, kissed back.
“Yes! Oh my God, yes!” Commotion downstairs had them break their kiss. Naya pressed a finger to the corner of her mouth, but she was unconcerned.
“Dexter proposed to Danny,” she explained. “He wanted to do that tonight, here.”
“You helped them do that.”
“I guess I did.” Naya looked at the clock again. “I need to officially close the tour and make sure everyone gets their rides home. Do you want to hang around here with me after?”
“Of course.” To Ben the answer was obvious. What else was he going to do?
11
Naya, this is a test.
An intelligent, attractive man. Someon
e you seem to be able to stand, even on his worst day.
A free hotel room.
What do you do?
The first real heartbreak of Naya’s life happened in the “real world,” after an intense six days on a solo backpacking trip to Bohol and Siquijor. Solo because she set out from Manila on her own. This was not her first go at multi-city backpacking, at island hopping, at developing feelings for the guy she met at the beach who said all the right things. Not even the first time she considered and then did sleep with someone on the first date. She thought she had found and donned the armor needed by a modern woman negotiating life through temporary relationships. But that heartbreak, when it all fell apart once they returned to life in the city, also reminded her that she could get things so fucking wrong.
Not that it ruined her. It did ruin trip romances somewhat. Naya was someone else when she was on the road, and other people were too—forcing that into the “real world” never worked out.
So the armor got an upgrade: Enjoy the trip flirt, the trip fling, the trip fuck...but don’t expect it to write. Or call. Or acknowledge you on social media. Or be anything that could be transplanted to another place and remain exactly as it was.
If she suggested her place as the next location for her and Ben...wrong answer. She was in between leases and living with her parents. Besides, they may have met in their home city but this definitely had the makings of a trip fling. Trip fling extreme, because lord, perhaps someone shouldn’t be as upfront about his vulnerability to a stranger. She could do harm with all that information.
It didn’t matter what the right answer was; she cashed in a perk from her “income-generating hobby” and got them into a free room at that very hotel.
“This is beautiful,” Ben said, the natural reaction so far to walking into any standard room at the Catala. The design and styling of all the rooms were impeccable, but she did say that in a lecture earlier that night. Maybe he wasn’t paying attention.
Beautiful room. Two walls of windows, gauzy curtains and heavy drapes keeping them from being seen by the rest of the city. King-size bed, looking nice and poofy-comfy. Identical orange lamps on either side had switched on as they came in, throwing spheres of warm light. Flattering warm light.
“So,” he said, apparently after surveying the space. “Walk me through this.”
“You’re a virgin?”
“No.” A confused-amused little smile came to his face. “I meant the travel hookup.”
“Oh.” Naya, think about why your heart skipped a little. But later.
He was probably thinking about it now. “What did you want me to be?”
She laughed. “Exactly who you are and no one else. Please continue.”
“We’re travelers. We spent a day exploring some city. We get a room. What happens next?”
Naya set her backpack down on the wooden desk next to her. “You take note of the exits. Did you?”`
That probably wasn’t what he thought he would hear. “Uh, yes.”
“You take a good long moment and assess how you feel, physically. I gave you a drink earlier. How much of it did you have?”
“Not a lot.”
“Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous? Less inhibited?”
Ben’s Adam's apple moved; the rest of his body was still. “I feel less inhibited, but I won’t attribute it to my drink being compromised.”
“Put your belongings where they’ll always be in your line of sight.”
He had a heavy backpack with him and he set it down on the low bench at the foot of the bed. “Got it.”
“Understand that coming into the room doesn’t have to mean it goes all the way between us. You, or I, can call an end to this and take the exit. You can do that now, or at any point.”
He nodded, so obediently.
“Ben,” Naya said. “If you already know this, I can stop. I probably sound patronizing. We’re both old enough to know all of this, right?”
“I know. I mean, it’s not top-of-mind info, but I get it. I...I like hearing you give a lecture.”
Oh God. Naya wanted to laugh. She would have, if she weren’t suddenly so turned on. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re amazing. Does that make us even?”
“Do you have condoms?”
“I don’t.”
“I do. Next time don’t get in a situation where you have to rely on someone else doing the responsible thing. They could be lying about everything else.”
He looked properly chastened. “I have some at home. I would have answered this differently if we were at my place.”
But she wouldn’t have gone to his place. She hadn’t explained that rule yet, but she was going to keep this to herself for now.
“Do we talk about dating status?” Ben asked. “I’m single.”
“Me too,” Naya replied.
“But—yeah, we could be lying. I see.”
“The upside of the travel fling,” Naya added, “is that you can start over with someone else. Of course you do it as smart as you can, and you draw those lines you don’t cross.”
“Lines like?”
“I don’t lead someone on, if they’re not on the same page. Like if they’re thinking it’ll be more than what it is. I don’t cheat, or help people cheat.”
“How can you know that though?”
“You ask them, but you don’t trust their answer. It’s how they answer, really. Also, you look them up.”
“Okay, makes sense.”
“All of this, it doesn’t have to be a permanent shift. When I’m traveling, I’m already starting over. My job, my errands, everything is so far away. The connection I make with someone can stay right where it is. It can be whatever I need it to be.”
“Is that a good thing? That it won’t last?”
Naya reached into her backpack for the pouch that carried her condom stash. Yes, she had it. Yes, it had more than one, not that carrying more than one meant anything. Only that she was as prepared as she told other people to be.
“Ask yourself first what you need this to be, Ben. You don’t have to say it out loud. I don’t need to hear it.”
It didn’t get this technical, this step-by-step on the other times that she got to this point. This part would have happened at dinner, at drinks, in the moment before she decided to get in the elevator with some guy, cross the doorway into a bedroom. But this guy liked instructions, liked her words, so she stood there and thought about what she needed from him, and he probably did the same.
He pulled his blazer off, one arm at a time, and dropped it on the bed. “All right,” he said. “I’ve thought of what I need. You?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Then?”
“Come here and show me.”
So this was what she got, when she challenged him to show her what he wanted: His hands on her body. Palms cupping around parts of her that curved. He pulled her clothing tight and splayed his fingers like he was using them to measure her shoulder, her neck, collarbones. He could cover an entire breast with his open hand. Her nipples felt his caress and hardened, almost to the point of pain.
“You’re a hands guy,” she said, suddenly breathless.
“Always,” he said. Those hands curved around her waist, her hips, then pulled her to him, ground her into his hardness. “I like how you feel.”
“I...feel you.” Ugh, stating the obvious. She felt him twitch against her, or that was her pressing closer onto him, her jeans and his pants so many layers but also so much friction. They hadn’t even kissed yet, again. She told herself it didn’t need to go so far, maybe she’d be content making out until she needed water, then she’d kick him out, and enjoy her staycation in peace. Tell that to Naya five minutes into the future, one leg wrapped around this guy like he was a tree and she was about to freaking climb.
Naya was a quick decision maker, sometimes.
Climb it is.
He took his shirt off and hello, familiar body from this morni
ng. Hello, body she’d observed earlier, nice to meet you again. Now she had permission to take a long hard look. She had permission to touch.
She had permission to taste.
He caught her mouth in his before she could try anything. She had barely done anything, and he made a move again; she should have told him she preferred the rhythm of her, then him, then her, then him. Travel flings, while exciting in theory, were also a scary first few minutes of realizing this man knew nothing about you. That he might take what he wanted before you got yours.
“May I,” Ben said. She felt his hands on her shirt and when she nodded, he pulled it over her head. Fingers hooked around her bra straps and they were free, bra unhooked and tossed somewhere a moment later.
“I want to see you come, right now,” Ben said. “What’s the fastest way?”
Me then him, then me, then him, the rhythm was all messed up. It felt like me me me but Naya wasn’t going to correct him. She unbuttoned her jeans and dropped them, kicked them away, lifted a leg to open herself up. She wasn’t sure anymore if she managed to give the instruction because the feeling of his finger slipping under her panties, touching her where she throbbed, was the right answer. God, was it the right answer.
“So hot,” he groaned. “So wet.”
Well yeah, Captain Obvious. Naya gasped when he increased the pressure, licked a wide swath on his neck when he pushed a finger inside, and then two.
“I want you to come,” he said. “How do you want to do it?”
“Faster. Like that. Just—fast.”
It wasn’t so fast. It was, still, long minutes of her hanging on, guiding his hand, delicious hard thrusting, and then there, her control snapping away from her.
She might have screamed. It was likely.
She collapsed and he caught her.
What Kind of Day Page 6