Manservant

by Shari J. Ryan

  “Maybe he’s just shy?” I suggest.

  “That’s ridiculous.” It may be ridiculous to someone like Jade, who seems to make friends with every passing person she meets, but not everyone is like her. “Whatever, I’ll get him drunk and figure him out.”

  I huff a quiet laugh, imagining how the night will likely go down. “Typical Jade.”

  A cheesy smile stretches across her face, and she pulls her phone out. “Selfie time.” She wraps her arm around my neck and pulls me in close as we try to center our faces inside of the viewer. She snaps a few and starts her posting procedure, which is typically Facebook, Snapchat, and Instagram.

  As I’m staring aimlessly into the flames, a limo pulls into the dirt lot, and a group of dressed-up girls nearly falls out of the open back door like a bunch of clowns smashed into a VW Bug. They’re shouting and laughing, and it takes less than a second to see the sashes announcing a bachelorette party. A Tuesday night bachelorette party? Must be one hell of an upcoming wedding. Though this does seem like a vacation spot, and there isn’t a shortage of places to party around here.

  Two by two they fill up the chairs around us, and I place my clutch down on the chair next to me, saving Sterling’s seat. I glance over at Jade to make sure she’s doing the same for Cleary, and I see the hesitation in her eyes while she does so. “Jade, come on, give the guy a chance. Seriously, he might just be shy. Besides, you know what they say about the shy ones . . .”

  “Blah blah blah, they’re always the best ones in bed.”

  “See? You could get your brains screwed out tonight. Isn’t that what you’ve been dreaming about?”

  Jade cocks her head to the side, giving me a look as if what I’m saying is a lie. “I just want to have some fun, Jules. I don’t need to get my brains fucked out.” She pauses for a minute, fidgeting her feet around on top of the stone wall. “I mean, it wouldn’t be horrible. It would probably clear my mind for a bit at least.”

  “Exactly,” I tell her. It’s bad friend advice, but maybe having a fuck buddy for the summer would get her to ease up on her bad drinking habits a little and clear her stressful thoughts about Chip. All in all, it might be best for all of us.”

  “I love you,” she tells me, wrapping her arm around my neck and resting her head on my shoulder.

  “What for this time?” I joke.

  “Your understanding of a fuck buddy. Ms.-I-like-to-only-be-in-relationships used to snarl at the thought of a fuck buddy. Oh, I got the best idea ever,” she squeals and claps her hands together. “We should make a pact right now.” There is no way anything good is about to come out of her mouth.

  “Uh . . .”

  “I’ll take that as a, ‘What’s your idea, my best friend?’” she speaks for me.

  “Okay, Jade, what’s your fantastic idea?”

  “Let’s just find fantastic fuck buddies this summer. We have to go back home in September and be adults, so why the hell not? When else will we get another chance just to screw whatever looks hot.” The idea of this sounds dirty, but I’ve also been hanging out to dry like a rotting grape for the past year, too. Yeah, that’s seriously a gross visual and analogy. Best to keep that as my inner thought.

  “I don’t know,” I tell her.

  “You have two hot guys eyeballing you,” she adds in.

  “And they’re friends. So . . . keep that in mind.”

  “Yeah, hello ménage-tres.”

  “Um, it’s ménage à trois. French, not half French, half Spanish.”

  “Okay, Jules. We both know you’re the smart one. You don’t have to correct me all of the time.”

  “Fine, I’ll let you suggest a ménage-tres to someone and sit back and watch. Okay?”

  “Ugh,” she groans. “Get the stick out of your butt . . . for now.”

  The guys are heading over to us with a few bottles of wine and four glasses. “Who likes white and who likes red?” Sterling asks.

  “I’m red,” I tell him.

  “I’m white,” Jade follows.

  “How perfect,” Sterling replies. I’m a red guy, and Cleary is a white guy.”

  “Yayyyy,” Jade says with a purposefully fake excitement.

  Sterling pours everyone glasses, and they both take their seats beside us. I kind of feel bad for Jade. I do hope Cleary breaks the silence and talks to her for at least a little bit. She needs something to get her mind off the last conversation we had.

  I take the first few sips of the wine and relax into my chair, watching Sterling do the same. “I love it here,” he says.

  “So do they,” I nod over to the girls in hysterics, laughing on the other side of the pit.

  “Where are you ladies from?” Sterling yells over to them.

  “Connecticut,” three of the girls say at the same time. They’re whooping and fist pumping the air about Connecticut as if we were talking about a sports team. They must already be half in the bag.

  “Nice, nice. Who’s the lucky lady here tonight?” Sterling continues.

  One of the girls, who appears to be the Jade of the group, grabs the wrist of the blonde girl with a white sash that vibrantly reads “Bride” in big red letters. Based on her reaction, it appears that her overly exuberant maid-of-honor planned one hell of a bachelorette party, and she may or may not be so thrilled with the idea yet. I’ve seen this scenario before, but the twist is, a few drinks later, the bride will be the one doing some weird trending dance around the fire. I can see why Sterling warned us about the entertainment here. This kind of stuff must happen all the time.

  “Well, congrats! You have a lucky man.”

  Oh, gag. Yes, it appears I’m on a date with a man who’s more intrigued by a bride-to-be than the person he nearly begged to go out tonight. If he keeps moving in this direction, he might just earn himself a chapter in “He’s Just Too Into Himself.” I don’t know how I pick ‘em, or how they always seem to pick me.

  Their conversation continues for far longer than I could imagine, and it makes me wonder if Sterling loves this location for its opportunities to hit on women glowing around a fire.

  As the spatter of awkward questions dies down, one of the bridesmaids drags the bride-to-be into the restaurant and up to the bar. Almost immediately, Sterling loops his arm effortlessly around my shoulders and takes a swig of his wine. “Marriage, ugh,” he says with a laugh. “I wonder if that poor girl knows what she’s getting herself into. The douche sounds like a loser too . . . an accountant’s assistant in Boston?” So, in less than thirty minutes, I have learned: A: Sterling is a flirt; B: He’s the type who would call himself a friendly guy in response to being called a flirt; C: He thinks marriage is a joke, and D: He’s insulting a man the bride-to-be vaguely mentioned in passing. Conclusion? Sterling is falling off of my barely-there radar quite fast.

  On the contrary, Cleary and Jade are in a quiet but serious conversation. It’s so quiet, I can’t make out what they’re saying, and it makes me wonder what she could be talking about so passionately. By the look on her face, she’s completely entranced by the fact that he’s just listening to her so intently.

  Sterling’s arm tightens around my neck as he clutches the metal of his seat between his legs and scoots over a little closer. “How’s the wine?”

  “Not bad,” I tell him, keeping my answer casual.

  “Not bad?” he responds, sounding offended.

  “Did you make it or something?” I jest back to him.

  He places his hand over his chest and clutches at his white polo that I have diligently ignored because it’s a perfect contrast between white and the tan on his chest. “It was a hundred-dollar bottle,” he complains.

  Good God. I don’t think anyone has ever spent that type of money on me, but I can’t help questioning his motive for buying a bottle of wine that’s that expensive on our first date, especially when we’re just sitting around a bonfire. It also doesn’t impress me that he felt the need to brag about it. “Well, gosh, in that case, it’s
delicious.” I lay it on thick because I honestly feel guilty that he spent so much on a beverage. It truly isn’t that good, but I’ll keep that little tidbit to myself.

  “You sure now?”

  “I’m sure.” I smile and take another big sip, hoping to get rid of it quicker than I planned.

  An older couple takes the seats that were previously occupied by the bridal party, and the woman pulls in a deep, relaxing breath as if this were her finish line at the end of a long day. The man pulls out a cigar and leans back in his chair, matching the woman’s disposition.

  “Think we’ll be like that someday?” Sterling asks me.

  His words completely wind me, and I lean back, flashing my gaze over at him. “Sorry, what?”

  “Kidding,” he mutters quietly, accompanied with a cocky smirk, of course.

  “You scared me,” I tell him.

  “I just got finished making fun of that girl for getting married. It shouldn’t have scared you too much.” This is true. The one glass of wine I drank went right to my head, and I’m not thinking straight. I don’t feel drunk, but I don’t feel completely sober either. I was not planning to have much tonight, knowing I need to watch myself around Sterling. “Plus, I wouldn’t talk about growing old together until after our first kiss at least.” As if I skipped all levels of drunk stages and went from mildly buzzed to inebriated, a nauseous wave crashes around inside of my gut. I knew this wasn’t a good idea tonight; yet, here I am, queen of not following my own advice.

  Jade and Cleary have been sucking face for about ten minutes now, and the old couple contently watching from the other side has not taken their eyes off the scene. It’s mildly creepy.

  “You have a good point,” I tell him, gently pulling away to insert some more space between us.

  “I get the feeling you aren’t feeling this,” he says. Sterling pulls his arm from my shoulders and relaxes in his stool.

  “I just know I’m going back home at the end of the summer and—” honesty won’t get me anywhere right now. Beyond the cocky behavior he has exhibited several times tonight alone, he’s just too good-looking. That means trouble if I pursue a relationship with him.

  “Don’t you ever just live in the moment?”

  “Sure I do,” I snap back, but it’s a total lie. I don’t live in any moments. I’m a planner.

  “So, how about this, you kiss me, and if you feel nothing, I’ll leave you alone, and we can see each other when we see each other. If you like it, though, we’ll take it one day at a time. What do you think?”

  I think my lips are speaking louder than my heart and it’s scaring me. If I open my mouth, I might answer irresponsibly.

  While considering his offer, Jade’s hand is in the center of my back, pushing me. I glance over my shoulder, finding her still lip-locked with Cleary. Nice, Jade.

  Sterling stands up from his stool and offers me his hand. “Come for a walk.” Again, Jade’s hand pushes me. God, okay, I can take a hint.

  “Where are we going?” I ask him.

  He takes the empty wine glass from my hand and places it down on my stool, just as he did with his. Without offering a response, he guides me around the restaurant toward the back, where we walk down a quiet path. “Have I come across too strong?” His question surprises me. It sounds sincere, but unusual after the way he has acted since I met him. Obviously, he’s come on strong. He shouldn’t need me to clarify that.

  “A little,” I tell him.

  His hand tightens around mine. “Sorry for that. I guess I’m sort of like a bull in a China shop when it comes to women sometimes.” Is he attempting to say I make him nervous?

  “You should just be yourself,” I tell him.

  “Well, this is me, right now.” The person he’s claiming to be is so different than the other person he’s been portraying.

  “Why act differently?”

  “You make me nervous,” he says. “Now that I’ve had a glass of wine, I feel like I can be honest, I guess.” He laughs at his words, but I don’t.

  This is me, now and all the time, so there’s no reason to be nervous around me. I’m not sure I understand where he’s coming from.

  The path we’re walking on opens into an area of small pebbles and leads up to a short cliff overlooking the moonlit ocean at high-tide. The beach looks the way it did the first night I arrived here.

  “Tell me something about yourself,” I say. I know he surfs and teaches lifeguarding classes, but I need more before I make an accurate decision about him.

  “Hmm,” he says, leaning forward on the railing that separates us from the edge of the cliff. “I have two more younger brothers, but they’re at home with my parents. I own a design business that I manage between the hours of surfing and teaching classes.”

  “What do you design?”

  “Decals and logos for surfboards mostly, but I do some commercial stuff too.”

  “So you’re an artist.” I guess I feel the need to define his career.

  “I don’t call myself an artist, but kind of, I guess.”

  “So, you’re a humble artist,” and that earns you a couple of points in my book. “I’d love to see some of your designs sometime. “I just got my degree in journalism, and I’m big into the arts—the visual kind and the type made from words.”

  “That’s pretty sweet. So, what kind of job will you eventually be looking for?”

  The job Dad thinks I have. . . “Eventually, I want to write self-help books, but I’ll probably start with an internship at a newspaper or magazine if I can. I want to get some editing experience under my belt, which is what my poor dad thinks I’m doing for the summer, because I’m a complete jerk.”

  He glances over at me with surprise in his eyes. “Wow, you lied to your dad, and you want to write self-help?” There’s a teasing tone to his question, but it hits home since it’s already eating away at me.

  “Yeah, I feel kind of shitty about it, but I just wanted one more summer to avoid life responsibilities. I need to get my head straight, I guess.”

  Sterling shifts his body, leaning his hip against the railing now. “Funny, since you’ve been acting so responsible, being worried about keeping your heart, or my heart—both of our hearts—safe, for whatever happens months from now.” I can’t argue. He’s right. I promised myself one last summer of letting loose and being free.

  “You’re right,” I tell him.I think he’s taking my agreement in many forms as his warm hand slithers around my back, slowly pulling me into him. My heart aches as his knuckles brush softly against my cheek. “One chance?” he asks.

  As if instinctually, I bite down on my bottom lip, glancing up into his sparkling eyes. I try to agree verbally, but only air escapes my lungs. I gather it’s enough of an answer for him as he leans down and touches the tip of his nose to mine. The wine on his breath is sweet, and part of my tongue is craving the taste. No responsibilities. No heartache. Breaking all rules, I close my eyes, allowing his nose to sweep against the side of mine, ever so slowly making the seconds between our last words and his lips touching mine feel like an eternity.

  Sterling’s mouth is soft against mine, his lips loose as he feathers his touch against the nerve endings of my lips. The sensation of his hand slipping through the ends of my hair before firmly clutching the back of my head brings warmth to the kiss, as his lips turn more onerous against mine. His free hand rests on the small of my back, and the simple touch of his fingertips burns through the thin material of my dress, making me silently plead for this kiss to last longer.From the second he touches his lips to mine, I lose track of time. I have no idea how many seconds or minutes have passed, but it doesn’t seem like enough time when he pulls away, simultaneously wrapping a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

  “Wow,” he says, scratching at his chin. “Here I thought I’d be sweeping you off your feet, and somehow, I think you might have stolen all that clout I had built up in my head. You’re something else.” Why am I feeling the
same about him? Freaking wine.

  There’s a kiss that leads to more, and there’s a kiss that makes you say “wow.” More leads to something else and “wow” leads to a memory.

  The crunching of small rocks and broken shells is the only sound I hear as we walk back to the fire pit. Jade will know by the look in my eyes. There is no hiding truths from her, despite the massive truth she managed to hide from me for an entire month.

  When we return, something inside of me warms as I watch the smile on Jade’s face, seeing her laugh at whatever Cleary just said to her. It’s not that Jade hasn’t been happy these past few days, but there has been a loss stirring within her, something I seem to be unable to help with.

  I glance down at my watch, noticing it’s already eleven. I told Samantha I would be back by midnight so I don’t wake up the whole house.

  “I need to get going,” I tell them.

  “You have a curfew?” Sterling teases.

  “I’m staying with the family I’m working for, and I don’t want to wake everyone up.”

  “The family . . . and Liam, right?” I feel the need to clear my throat before answering his question because I have an idea where his thoughts are likely headed.

  “Well, yes,” I answer, questioningly.

  “Watch yourself with that one, eh?”

  “Liam?” Why am I asking? I know who he means and why he’s saying it. I knew I needed to watch my back within thirty seconds of meeting Liam. However, I do find it interesting that they have both warned me against each other. Part of me would like to tell him Liam said the same about him, but I need to leave, and I have a suspicion it might complicate things and cause problems. There is no sense in looking for ways to end the evening on a bad note.

  Jade and Cleary ignore the conversation but finish the last of the liquid in their glasses. Jade is all glossy eyed, and if I weren’t here, I know what would happen tonight.

  I squeeze between the fire pit and the bar stools, grabbing for Jade’s hand. “I really need to get going,” I tell her.

  With clumsy movements, she slips off the stool and drags her feet along the sandy pebbles. “I don’t want to leave yet,” she whines.