Think Again

by Isabel Lucero

  He starts laughing. "Okay, so, what do you want to know? The things I like sucking on? I'll tell you."

  "You don't . . .”

  "Well, first, I like sucking on the flesh below a woman's ear. Right on the side of her neck.” He brings his thumb to that exact location on me, sending a chill down the right side of my body. “Not to leave a mark, but just to taste her.” I gulp as his hand goes back to rest on his thigh. “Then of course there's a woman's breasts. Sucking on those perfect nipples until they’re erect in my mouth is a favorite of mine. Moving lower, I like to . . .”

  "Okay, I get it," I interrupt, clearing my throat. I can't listen to his velvety smooth voice talk about that anymore. I had already begun pushing my thighs together, and had to concentrate to make sure my breathing was normal.

  "Wanna know about my comment in the restaurant?" he asks, shifting to face me. I sneak a peek at him and he’s got a roguish smile dancing on his lips.

  "No, no. That's okay."

  "Are you okay? You look a little flushed." I can hear the amusement in his tone.

  "I'm fine.” I turn up the air and he breaks into laughter.

  "Do you want to talk about things you like to suck on?"

  “No!” I say with a gasp. After a moment of silence, I continue. “You make this friendship of ours a little uncomfortable to be a part of.”

  “I make you uncomfortable?”

  “No. I mean . . . yes. Not like . . . shit. Never mind. I don’t know how to answer that.”

  “Seriously. Do my comments make you uncomfortable? If that’s the case, I can stop. I truly am a flirt by nature. I love messing with you because you get flustered, and it’s cute.”

  “So, you’re like this with everyone?” I question.

  “Well, no. Not everyone.”

  “Hmm.” I want him to further explain that, but I don’t ask him to. “What I mean is that I don’t know how to respond to some of the stuff you say. If I were single, I’d be throwing comments back at you like crazy. But now, I feel like . . . I don’t know. I don’t want you to judge me because, well, you know.”

  “Aria, why would I judge you? I’m the one asking you to have lunch with me and inviting myself to hike with you. Why would I judge you if you interacted with me in the way that I want you to?”

  I look over at him with a slightly furrowed brow. “You confuse me.”

  He grins. “I’m sorry. How do I confuse you?”

  “We just had a conversation about how it feels to be cheated on, or in your case, left for someone else. How it’s fucked up. You know. That whole conversation.”

  “Let me remind you that I’m single.”

  “And I’m not.”

  “You want to be, and you will be. Are you telling me that you feel bad about being with me right now instead of with your husband?”

  I sigh, choosing to focus on the road in front of me instead of answering his question.

  “Go ahead. Answer honestly,” he implores.

  “No, I don’t feel bad.”

  “Where does your husband think you are right now?”

  “He doesn’t know where I am.”

  “Why would I care about the man who’s treated you so badly, anyway? Why should I care about his feelings? Why should you for that matter?”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “I am. It’s not like I’m getting in the middle of some perfect marriage. It’s not like I’m doing anything at all, really.”

  “I know. I guess it’s just because . . .”

  “Because you want me to. You’re anticipating what could happen between us.”

  “Cocky much?” I ask with a scoff.

  “No, but tell me that isn’t true.”

  I huff. “Anyway.”

  Chris chuckles. “It’s not like I’m your type anyway, remember? I’m a doctor with a lab coat. You like piercings and tattoos.”

  “Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  I pull up to the parking area in front of the trailhead, and take note of the few other cars here.

  “So, do we have to pay or anything?” Chris asks.

  “It’s basically an honor system. They have envelopes over there,” I say, pointing out the window, “and you go fill out this little form and put in the few dollars, and slip the money into this locked box. The form goes in your car in case they come by to check it out. Some people do it, some people don’t.”

  “And what kind of people are you?” he questions.

  “The people that do, of course.”

  He laughs. “Sure.” Chris turns around and grabs the backpack from the backseat, then opens his door. “I’ll go get an envelope. Oh, and just so you know, that comment at the restaurant? I wasn’t kidding. Be right back.”

  And with that, he’s gone, jogging over to get the envelope, leaving me slack-jawed once again.

  I take the time that he’s gone to think about what he said. He admitted to wanting to fuck me. He said that! That’s not me making this up in my head. My mind is confused, battling with wanting to give in to my attraction to him, and not wanting to stoop to my husband’s level, regardless of whether he’s cheating on me or not.

  When I see Chris making his way back, I climb out of the car and start spraying myself with bug spray.

  “Do me?” he asks.

  “What?” My head snaps up.

  “Do me,” he says, pointing to the bug spray, then at himself.

  “Oh. Yeah.” It’s hard to keep my mind out of the gutter when I’m around him.

  He unzips the black hoodie, revealing a plain white T-shirt, but that’s not what catches my attention. What catches my attention is the fact that his muscled arms I’ve been admiring through his clothes are covered in tattoos. Mind fucking blown.

  Dr. Good Looking Mother Effing Callahan has tattoos.

  What is it about a man who wears expensive suits, but hides tattoos underneath them that’s so fucking sexy? I’d love to strip him out of his professional clothes and reveal the tattooed god underneath. Wait, what?

  “You’re staring,” his voice says, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “What?” I say, finally looking up into his face. A face that is clearly enjoying my surprise.

  “Are you going to spray me, or continue to check me out?”

  “I wasn’t checking . . .” I start to lie. “Okay, I was just looking at your ink, you fucking liar.”

  He laughs. “Whoa, what? How am I a liar?”

  “You said you weren’t my type because I like tattoos and piercings, which led me to believe you had neither.”

  “I thought it would be a fun surprise. So, surprise!”

  “Just shush,” I say, grabbing his arm by the wrist and pulling it into an outstretched position. I spray his arm, then repeat the process on the other one. A couple of squirts on the back of his neck and I’m done.

  He leaves the hoodie tied around his waist, allowing me to ogle the ink on his arms for our whole hike. I hope I can pay attention to where I’m walking now.

  His arms are even more toned than I thought, and the mostly gray and black ink with splashes of color here and there keep catching my eye. I try to figure out what everything is, but it’s hard to tell without actually taking his arm and inspecting each inch.

  “You don’t think doctors can have tattoos?” he asks as we begin our hike up to the falls.

  “It’s not that. It’s just . . . I don’t know. I didn’t think you had them.”

  “Are tattoos not really your type?” he asks.

  “Well, I had just made up the tattoos and piercings thing because I assumed you didn’t have them. I don’t think I have a type, per se. I haven’t been with many people.”

  “Really?” he asks, surprise filling his tone.

  “What? I don’t get around like some people,” I tease.

  “So, what? Like five boyfriends or something?”

  “More like two.”

  “What?” he exclaims, getting the atte
ntion of the family several feet in front of us. “Sorry,” he says, getting quieter. “Two boyfriends? Your whole life? Including your husband?”

  “Yep. I had one boyfriend before him, and then he and I began dating while I was in college.”

  “Jesus. No wonder you think I’m a manwhore. You’re practically a virgin.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” I say with a snort.

  Our hike becomes a bit steeper, causing my legs to start feeling the burn already. Clearly I don’t work out enough. Meanwhile, Chris looks perfectly fine. No excessive sweat or labored breathing. Ugh.

  When we cross the bridge, I know we’re getting closer.

  “This is where we can either go down below, or keep going straight and see the view from the top first. What do you want to do?” I ask.

  “Well, I love going down below, so let’s save that for last,” he answers in his usual sex-filled way.

  “You’re something else, you know that?”

  Chris laughs and holds his hands up. “What?”

  “You know what,” I say, as I continue walking straight ahead.

  “Did you want to go down first? I’m okay with that, too.”

  “Shut up,” I tell him through a laugh.

  “I just want to make sure you’re satisfied.”

  “Shush.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says with a small laugh.

  When we get to the barrier, we can look ahead of us and see the top of the waterfall. It’s absolutely gorgeous. The foliage is a deep green, and the white water is rushing down with such force. The sound has always been relaxing to me.

  “Wow,” Chris breathes as he comes to a stop next to me. “Breathtaking.”

  “It’s my favorite place to be.”

  “I understand why.”

  We both snap a few pictures on our phones, sit down on a bench and drink some water before we head to the bottom.

  “Thanks for letting me tag along,” he says, nudging my arm.

  “You’re welcome,” I answer, nudging him back.

  Our eyes meet and while we were both smiling at first, something in the air between us changes, and our smiles falter. There’s something here. Something in him calls to me, and I want to answer. I can’t help but think he feels the same way.

  If I leaned in just a fraction, I know he’d come in the rest of the way. Once again, my conscious is struggling between right and wrong.

  “Excuse me. Can you take our picture?” a woman asks us, effectively breaking our connection.

  “Sure,” I tell her with a smile.

  Her and her husband and son gather together, and I make sure the waterfall is in the frame next to them before clicking.

  “There you go.”

  “Thanks so much,” she replies, taking her camera.

  “Well, are you ready to go down?” I ask, not realizing until the words leave my mouth how that came off.

  “Oh, I’m ready all right,” he responds, giving me a wink.

  I playfully roll my eyes before turning on my heel and leading the way. When we make the turn to head to the bottom of the waterfall, the terrain becomes a little rougher, and the dirt turns into thick mud.

  Trees surround us, blocking most of the sun, leaving us protected from the heat. A few times I stumble, but Chris is there to either grab my hand and help me down a hill, or grab onto my waist to make sure I don’t fall. I love the way his large hands feel on my skin, and miss them as soon as they’re gone.

  On our way, we pass a tree that’s become quite the photo op. There’s a gaping hole in the trunk that people can climb into to take a picture. Chris enlists me to be his photographer, and I do so happily. Turns out he’s too big to fit inside, and the pictures are pretty comical since I document him trying to get in, and then trying to get half of his body out when he realizes it just isn’t going to work.

  “That was a dumb idea,” he says when he finally gets out.

  I laugh. “It was pretty funny.”

  He gives me a look that says he doesn’t agree. We keep going down until we come across the river. The very bottom of the waterfall is visible, but you can walk through part of the river and up the side of the mountain to see more of it.

  “You might be able to see some large salmon in here trying to swim upstream.”

  We walk up to the edge of the water and start looking.

  “Here’s one,” he announces. “It’s a big red one.”

  “Sockeye salmon,” I announce as I spot the large salmon that looks to be swimming in place. I end up spotting a couple more as I make my way closer to the fall. “Well, you ready to traverse this water?”

  “We’re walking in the water?” he questions.

  “If you want to get a better view, yes. It’s only along the side, so we won’t be submerging ourselves or anything.”

  “You lead the way,” he says, gesturing with his hand.

  Luckily the water isn’t too high, and we’re able to find some large rocks to step on until we get around part of the mountain that juts out. On a larger platform, before I begin climbing up the side of the mountain, I look at the waterfall.

  The sound of the rushing water is loud, but not annoyingly so. You get a bit of a spray, but it feels refreshing after hiking this whole way. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

  I turn back around and begin the climb up.

  “What’re you doing?” he demands.

  “Climbing. Come on.”

  “Are you sure we can do this?”

  “Really? I do this all the time. Of course we can do it. Don’t be a baby.”

  I continue climbing, looking behind me to make sure he’s coming.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be here to catch you if you fall. Either that or we both go tumbling and fall into the water.”

  “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” I say with a laugh.

  It’s not hard to climb up, you don’t even have to use your hands that often. Me and Janna came up here and found a perfect place to take pictures, and I’ve always come back to the same spot since then.

  “We’re here,” I announce, turning around to take in the stunning view of the waterfall.

  From this vantage point, you can see much more of the water roaring into the river below. The contrast of the green trees and the white water is gorgeous, even the photos can capture the beauty.

  “Oh my god,” Chris states. “I’ve never seen anything like this, especially not so close.”

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” I ask, a smile plastered on my face. “I could stay here all day.”

  We don’t stay all day, but we do stay a little while. We lay our hoodies down and sit on them while we eat some granola bars and drink water. It’s our own little private picnic away from the rest of the people down below. You couldn’t ask for a more beautiful spot.

  “I have a feeling this will become one of my favorite places to be at as well,” he says.

  “How can it not be? Just wait until you see the rest of what Alaska has to offer. Picturesque places are all over this state. The mountains that surround us are beautiful any time of year, and you need to drive down Seward highway. It made it to Life magazine’s list of the most scenic drives in the world.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  After sitting and talking a little bit longer, I stand up and stretch, readying myself for the trip back to the car.

  “You ready?”

  “Yep. I’ll be crossing my fingers that neither one of us falls and breaks our necks or legs.”

  “Oh stop. We’ll be fine.”

  “You jinxed me with your stupid negativity,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Calm down. Are you okay? Let me look.”

  “No. Don’t touch it.”

  I’m sitting here in the middle of the trail, grasping at my ankle, because the toe of my shoe hit some stupid fucking big ass rock that was mostly imbedded into the ground. The momentum of my body and the fact that I couldn’t move
my foot fast enough to get my footing, made me fall, twisting my ankle in the process.

  “Aria, I am a doctor,” he says in a soothing voice.

  “And I’m a nurse. So what?”

  “Let me inspect it to make sure nothing is broken.”

  “It’s not broken. It just fucking hurts.”

  “Maybe it’s sprained. You don’t want to put pressure on it.”

  “I know that.”

  We had made it through the more difficult sections of the hike, but of course, right towards the end, I trip on a stupid rock and injure myself.

  Chris kneels down in front of me and slowly takes my hands away from my ankle. He stares at me like he’s waiting for me to object, but I submit to his request to check it out.

  He unties the laces to my boot, loosening it as much as possible without jolting my leg too much. The boot must come off so he can get a proper look at it, but I don’t look forward to the process of getting it off.

  “This may hurt a bit,” he tells me as he lifts my leg and pulls the boot from my foot.

  It hurts enough for me to let out a hiss, but then his fingers are pulling down my sock and caressing my skin. He checks for signs of a broken bone, even though I know it’s not broken, but he is a doctor. His hand runs up from my ankle to my calf, squeezing and rubbing, checking everything out.

  “Does this hurt?” he asks, moving my foot a certain way.

  “Yes,” I answer with a hiss.

  “Looks like it’s starting to swell already. You seem to have sprained it a bit. It’ll begin to bruise soon as well.”

  “Great,” I say with sarcasm.

  “No walking. Lots of rest and ice packs. You know the drill.”

  “Well, how the hell am I supposed to get down to the car?”

  “Guess you’re gonna have to ride me,” he says with a grin.

  “Ugh. No time for jokes.”

  “Piggyback ride. Come on, let me help you up. Don’t put that foot down.”

  After putting my sock and boot in his backpack, Chris pulls me up, keeping me steady on one foot.

  “You’re gonna have to wear the backpack.”

  “That’s fine.”

  After slipping the bag onto my shoulders, he crouches down in front of me and waits for me to climb on.

  “Hop on, little lady,” he says with a laugh.