by Scott, S. L.
“Abandoned is a strong word and that wasn’t really my idea, but I tend to agree with Sunny. You and Evan have some stuff to work out—”
“I don’t even know Evan.”
“Maybe you should get to know him then. He’s a good guy despite the reputation that precedes him, and it’s just that, a reputation.” He laughs looking down at his feet as he stands. “I mean, some of it’s true, but some has definitely been exaggerated.”
“Does he sleep with a lot of girls?”
He ponders the question then says, “I think you should ask him.”
“I don’t trust him or his rehearsed answers.”
“Why do you think he would lie to you?” Zach studies my face, trying to read me. He reminds me a little of Evan when he does that.
Remembering Evan’s words from the first day I met him, he told me not to rely on him, but to trust him. He was honest with me. I got hurt because I did exactly what he told me not to do. I relied on him even though I didn’t trust him.
16
Mallory
The revelation from the day before shrouds my thoughts like a wet towel—a constant drip, reminding me of Evan. Maybe I played this game all wrong. He told me he’s not a relationship guy. It was one of the first things he said to me. His actions with the girl at the airport and after, backed that, but his actions with me, didn’t.
I stand there lost in thought and staring at the wooden bar that I’m supposed to be cleaning. How he treated me was nothing less than caring for the most part. Yes, he screwed up and hurt my feelings both mornings after we had sex, but he also seemed to be in a constant state of turmoil when around me too. I think he likes me, but doesn’t know how to deal with those feelings. Pretty similar to how I feel about him, which is a bit distressing. I didn’t come here to find a boyfriend. I thought it was fun to have sex with someone so beautiful on my summer vacation. There would be no strings, no commitments, no obligations, or responsibility, just a one-time thing that I was never bold enough to do back at school. But I was wrong because the minute I got in that car, I knew there was more. I knew he was different. I just didn’t allow myself to recognize the feelings I had for him and he had for me. Evan Ashford has feelings for me. I say it just loud enough for only me to hear, letting it permeate the air around me.
“Maalllllory, earth to Mallory.”
I look up. “Yeah … Oh, Noah, hi. What are you doing here?”
“I was dropping the VW off. You wanna see?”
“Definitely.”
I walk around the bar and head outside with him. My hands fly up, covering my mouth as it drops open in amazement. I run my finger down the newly painted, shiny, red Volkswagen Bus. “Oh my god, Noah!” I say, pointing at it. “It’s incredible.” I turn around and jump on him out of pure excitement.
He catches me as I hug him tightly. “Sunny is going to die when she sees her bus.”
Noah laughs then sets me back down on the ground. “I hope so. But, you know, Mallory, I can’t accept your money. I know you offered to pay me for the work, but you paid for the paint and I actually enjoyed doing the bodywork.”
“This looked like it belonged in a junkyard, but now … well, look at it. It looks like it was just driven off the showroom floor. I need to pay you for your time.”
“No, absolutely not. But, you can promise me that we still get to hang out together sometimes. I’ll miss that.”
“Deal,” I say, sticking my hand out to seal it. “We’re friends. Of course, we’ll hang out.”
We go inside and since it’s a slow day, he stays, and we enjoy the time chatting and laughing together. When I get off at six, he says he has a surprise for me at his house. I drive the beautifully restored VW and Noah over to his place, an old house down the street from his parents. When the garage door opens, I see a white surfboard with ‘Wahine Nani’ painted across the length in gold. Silver and purple Hibiscus flowers encircle the edge with the University of Colorado Buffalo mascot anchoring the image fin side.
Nudging me with his elbow, he says, “I thought you’d like your own board since you’re here all summer, haole girl. Maybe we can surf together sometime.”
“You didn’t! This is so bad-ass! Oh my God, Noah, I can’t believe you did this.” I look at the design, running my finger along the edge. “It’s amazing. More than amazing. It’s perfect.” I point to the words, and ask, “Wahine Nani?”
“Beautiful Girl,” he looks down as he says this. “You are. You’re very pretty.”
My cheeks heat under the compliment. “I don’t know what to say other than thank you. So you’re going to take me out surfing sometime soon?”
“Next week, I will. I promise, but I have that competition coming up, so it’ll have to wait until after that.”
“I look forward to it.”
He follows me back to the car. I drive the VW, and he drives his Jeep with the long board up on surf racks. Sunny isn’t home. I’m suspecting she’s with Zach again. Noah drops the board off, but can’t stay because he needs to work-out to prep for the competition, so he takes off. I’m not disappointed because I really need some quiet time to myself to think about everything.
I spend my evening practicing the ‘pop-ups’ that Evan taught me in my lesson and feel confident to try this in the ocean on my new board. I love this board so much that I lie down on it to watch TV and eventually fall asleep. Sometime in the night, I feel weightless and warm. I dream of Evan, but I always dream of Evan in some form lately, so that isn’t strange. I shift onto my side burying myself into the couch cushions, but don’t wake until morning.
The sun hasn’t risen and just like so many other mornings in Hawaii, I decide to go to the beach to watch the sunrise. But today, I have a board and the excitement of owning it gets the better of my patience. I throw my bathing suit on, pull on my cut-offs, and slip on flip-flops. I grab the board which is awkward to hold, but settles nicely into my side as I walk.
At the beach, I drop my board into the sand and strip down to my swimsuit. The waves look gentler this morning which eases my worries. I run Evan’s surfing lesson through my mind as I paddle out past the first set of breaking waves. The water is smooth out here and it’s easy to navigate without much effort. I look back at the empty beach which is now a fair distance away. All the nerve I had maintained abandons me for a brief second with the rush of danger I feel from suddenly realizing I’m a solitary surfer. I look across the ocean, further down the beach, and see the usual ‘real’ surfers and find relief that others are at least in the vicinity. Newbies aren’t allowed to surf with those guys and especially not a haole girl, so I keep my distance.
Looking over my shoulder, I spot a small set of waves coming toward me. These look good, doable. With all my strength and nerve, I start paddling as a wave approaches. I face forward and when my board rides high onto the waters ledge, I pop up. Life is perfect for that one fleeting second before I lose my balance and wipe out.
My body plunges into the turquoise waters and I’m dragged under and spun around like a ragdoll in a washing machine. I open my eyes for one brief moment, but can’t focus to find the top of the water. I’m flung to the surface long enough to take one last breath before I’m forced down again by another crashing wave, spinning wildly under the water. I swim and kick, fighting against death and Mother Nature’s attempts to keep me down. Vertigo sets in and I start to lose clarity. That’s when I hit my head on something hard, temporarily stunning my thoughts to fight for my life.
Everyone tells you that their life flashes before their eyes when death is near. I expected that. I welcome the happy memories, wanting them to wash over me as I’m relieved from this existence, but that doesn’t happen. The whole of my thoughts are of Evan. My short time with him replays rampantly through my mind. The pool, him worshiping my body in his bed, the devious, but sexy glint in his eyes, the sincerity that slips through when he looks deep into my soul, and the energy that binds us together. I’m consumed with th
oughts of him touching me as I feel my last breath escape me.
My eyes open in the calm of my surroundings while my body becomes one with the ocean. I see him so clearly above, staring at me, staring into me, calling me to him though it sounds distant and detached. He yanks me by the shoulders from the watery confines and air hits my skin as he takes me in his arms one last time. I relinquish myself—body and soul. I give in because until I was dying, I didn’t know how much I was in love with him.
My throat burns, and I feel sick and heave, but I want Evan to stay with me. My dream teeters on the edge of disappearing and I want to stay asleep forever. One swift punch to my chest sends me flying, spitting out the salty water that had invaded my lungs. Immediately falling back down, I open my eyes. It’s real, the dream or death, but it’s real because Evan is with me.
I cough, and the last of the water is expelled although I still feel lifeless. Evan’s beauty is all I take in against the blue expanse of the sky above. Confusion takes hold of me when he says, “You’re going to be all right, Mallory. Focus on me.”
I can’t do anything else, but concentrate on him. I cough again as I try to speak, “Am I dead?”
His assaulting smirk appears, and I relax, knowing I’m in heaven.
“I think you almost drowned, but you’re not dead.” He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. I feel strange and wondrous at the same time.
“You’re here—”
“Do you think you’re in hell?”
His question is too bewildering right now. I know where I am, so I say it. “Heaven.”
“Is that where you think you are, baby? You think you’re in heaven?”
I close my eyes, letting his words soak in. When I gulp, my throat hurts, my body hurts, and now my heart hurts. I’m alive. The aches I’m feeling tell me so, but now I’ve exposed my feelings to the one person who can damage them the most. Reality sets in, and I sit up with his assistance.
I grasp hold of my throat, hoping to ease some of the burn. “I know where I am now. Thank you for … did you save me? Why? How are you here?” I ask, strangely disappointed that I wasn’t actually dreaming or dying.
“I should ask you why you’re here, alone. You should never surf alone. You don’t even know how to surf. What were you thinking, Mallory? Where’d you get this board?” His voice gets more upset with each question.
Suddenly, I feel defensive, but not enough to lie to him. “Noah gave me the board.”
“He’s an idiot. It’s like giving a car to a child to drive.”
“Shut-up, Evan.” That’s all I can think to say right now which is very immature, but does the job.
He stands up and with an offered hand, calmly asks, “Do you think you need to go to the hospital?”
“No. I’m fine … or will be. How did you save me?”
I take his hand and stand up slowly, my eyes meeting his. He supports me by the elbow then grabs me into an embrace. While stroking my hair away from my face, he kisses me on the forehead. “Shhh.”
Leaning against his bare chest, I savor the warmth of his skin against my cheek. He pulls back and looks me in the eyes. “What were you thinking going out there like that?” His tone is reprimanding.
I turn away and start walking toward my shorts and shoes, but he grabs my arm. “Don’t walk away from me.”
“Evan, let go of me!”
“No, I want to know why you pulled that stunt—”
“Why are you so mad?”
“Because you fucking drowned out there. What if I wouldn’t have been here …” His head drops into his hands and he runs them upwards through his hair. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He turns and walks over to the board tossing it into the sand a few feet away.
I storm after him, thinking I actually might have heard what he said, and demand, “No! You tell me what you mean by that.”
He picks up one end of the board, reads the words, and studies the personalized design before he lifts his foot and stomps down in the middle of the board breaking it in half. As I scream in protest, he does it again, breaking each half into quarters.
Tears fill my eyes, and I scream. “Are you crazy? Seriously, are you insane? Unbalanced? Why’d you do that?”
“This board is luckier than Noah will be when I find him.”
I point right at his face, and threaten, “You won’t touch him!”
“Your head is bleeding again—”
“I don’t care what you think has happened, but you won’t lay a finger on Noah. I swear if you do, I’ll never speak to you again—”
He grabs me by the shoulders, and steadies me. “Calm down. Your head is bleeding. You need stitches.”
“Huh?” I raise my hand to my head and look at it. My hand is covered and dripping downward. “Oh my god, I’m bleeding!” I sway and instantly fall forward to my knees.
“Mallory, stay with me. Stay with me,” he repeats, scooping my failing body into his arms and running to his car. His chant lies just on the surface of my consciousness.
When he sets me down on the passenger seat, I mumble the only coherent words I can form. “The blood, your car … expensive.”
17
Mallory
I wake up on a tiny, uncomfortable bed. Looking around, I see Evan slumped against the wall looking down.
“Ev,” I stop and clear my throat. It’s sore.
He dashes to my side and strokes my cheek. “Don’t talk, baby.” He leans over and pours me a cup of water. After he helps me sit up, I sip from the straw.
My hand races to my head and I gently pat the bandage covering the side of my temple. “My head?”
“You blacked out. Fortunately, you only needed three stitches. You hit the reef when you were under water, so the doc said he wants to see you when you wake up.”
I chuckle. “I remember the beach and the blood.”
He sits on the edge of the bed still stroking my face. “You were super cute before you passed out if that makes a difference.”
“Super cute, huh?” Why do I like that he thought I was super cute?
“Yeah, you were worried about getting blood in my car.”
“I didn’t, did I?” I ask, worrying again that I might have ruined the beautiful leather interior.
He drops his hand to his lap, then stands and backs away, suddenly unsure of himself. “Uh, no, there’s no damage to the car. I’ll get the nurse.”
Evan leaves the room so fast that it makes the pain in my head throb to watch. After a few tests, silly questions about fingers being held up, my birth name, and presidents—I could name all of them in order—the doctor said he was not only impressed, but releasing me.
I walk into the hallway, and Evan stands up from a nearby chair, and says, “I hear you’re free to go.”
“So they say,” I reply, a little snark seeping into my tone.
Thirty minutes later, we drive back to the beach in relative silence. When he parks, I say, “Thank you again for paying my bill. I guess my insurance isn’t as good as I thought.”
“Its fine, Mallory.” His tone has changed, just like the ocean tides in front of us.
We both get out, and I walk over to my shorts and slip them on. I grab my shoes, dusting the sand off of them then put them on. Evan walks to the broken board and carries the pieces to his trunk. He returns to the driver’s seat at the same time I get back into the car. “I still don’t understand why you broke my surfboard.”
“I’ll buy you a new board … when you’re ready and you’re not ready.” He shifts the car in gear and peels out. The short drive back to the apartment feels long and tension filled. He lets me get out without protest.
I lean back in, and say, “Pop the trunk and I’ll throw the pieces away.”
“No, I’m keeping them for now then I’ll dispose of them.”
Irritated, I slam the door harder than I should. I’m pissed that once again I’m bei
ng wound up and cut loose. I need a cigarette like nobody’s business.
He slides out his open window and sits on his door frame. “C’mon, Mallory, don’t leave mad. It’s a board, that’s all.” I have flashbacks of him saying something eerily similar to me that first morning after he dropped me off.
I turn around furious by his lack of respect and out of frustration. “Noah gave me that board. He put a lot of thought into it and spent money that you know as well as I do that he doesn’t have a lot of. So, it’s more than just a board, it was a gift from a friend that’s become close to me.”
“He’s using you to get to me—” His arrogance is revealed once again.
“No, he’s not! He likes me. We’ve spent time together.” I walk back, angry and irritated, and poke him on the chest. “Don’t talk to me about him using me. You used me, you asshole.” I know I’m also to blame, but he flipped this around on us. We were supposed to be easy, no strings then he said things like ‘make love’ and a string slowly attached itself to my heart.
I turn around and rush to the door. This conversation is pointless and doesn’t matter. I’m done with Evan Ashford! I stop to dust my hands together to emphasize my ending with him when I’m brazenly pinned against the door from behind. His breath hits my ear, and he whispers, “Don’t be mad, sweetheart. Although, I do think you’re sexy as all get-out when you are.”
I squirm, aggravated by the shameless entrapment of my body. His hands whisk around to my stomach and then separate—one goes north and the other one heads south. I threaten, “Let me go or you’re going to be feeling some major pain in two seconds.”
“Your feistiness is such a turn on,” he says, pressing his bulge against my ass. Wet kisses follow his remark, landing on my neck, and for some reason, I don’t fight him. My body caves, allowing him fuller access for his lips, hands, and cock, which is currently hard.