“It’ll be fine.”
“You didn’t even last an hour this morning.”
“Those kids were fucking irritating, Olivia. You had to be annoyed.”
“I deal with kids every day. Obviously we deal with it differently.”
“Obviously.”
She stuck her trash in the bag, then got up and stalked to the garbage can to toss it in. “Do you want to watch any more TV?” she asked.
“No.”
She pressed the button at the base of the massive appliance and the screen went dark. He watched her ass as she moved around the bed, tugged back the covers, and slid under. Lamps on either side of the bed were on, so she turned hers off and rolled onto her side, giving him her back. “Good night.”
Jarek finished his food and threw out the packaging, then went in the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash cold water on his face. It was completely irrational—and out of the realm of possibility—but he really wanted to fuck her right now. He decided to take a shower instead, but the “shower” was just a showerhead sticking out of the wall, no tub, no curtain, nothing to keep the water from spraying all over the room. They had a western toilet, at least, but it was a struggle to avoid soaking everything as he took a brief shower, jerking off and hoping it would help ease the tension.
Olivia was asleep—or pretending to be—when he climbed under the covers behind her. Despite her awful, tiny bed, they spent more nights at her place than his, and he’d gotten in the habit of sleeping curled up behind her, one hand splayed across her stomach. He did that now, ignoring her stiff posture—she was definitely awake—and breathing in the clean smell of her hair. He felt the smooth skin of her thighs on his, and wondered not for the first time how anyone could do this forever—and how they ever managed to stop.
The bright morning sun woke them up. He felt her shift, then her hand lifted to shield her eyes from the glare. The flimsy curtains were drawn but provided no cover, and by eight o’clock they could no longer pretend to be asleep.
Still curled on her side, Olivia stretched, arching as she did so, prying her hips away from the erection he inevitably woke up with when she was next to him. “Sleep well?” he asked. He hadn’t, and not just because he felt bad about fighting with her, but also because the bed was extraordinarily uncomfortable.
“No,” she answered. Without elaboration.
He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “You still mad?”
“Not really.”
He nudged her with his cock. “Any chance you could help me out with this?”
She laughed, the sound muffled by the pillow. “Jarek.”
“Come on. I’ll convince you.” He pulled her onto her back and shuffled under the covers, tugging her shorts and panties down her legs. She didn’t fight as he shouldered her thighs apart, licking his way up the soft, sensitive skin until he found what he was looking for. He ate her out, slowly and thoroughly, until she knotted her fingers in his hair and writhed around, pleading with him to hurry.
“Are we still in a fight?” he murmured, tongue plunging inside.
“Gah…No. No. No—Yes…”
He circled her clit with his lips, tugging insistently, getting the answer he was looking for. Once she’d settled, he urged her onto her stomach and slid into her from behind the way he’d dreamed about all night. She was wet and welcoming and he felt so fucking relieved he almost didn’t want to come, wanted to preserve this moment of forgiveness and acceptance so he could remember what it felt like. He was pretty sure none of the other people he’d hurt had forgiven him, and he’d certainly never tried to atone.
She came again and he came with her, then lay beside her as their breathing slowed. “Well,” Olivia said. “I’ve never made up with someone like that before.”
“No?”
“No.”
“How many someones are we talking about?”
He watched her face, profile backlit by the sun, for telltale signs of lying, but all he saw was a faintly uncomfortable flush before she said, “Just one.”
“Chris? That’s the only person you’ve been with?”
“Yeah. First and only. Until you.”
“Huh.”
“How about you?”
It was his turn to feel uncomfortable. Why the hell had he started this conversation? He’d already known the answer, for fuck’s sake. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce that she’d only ever been with Chris. And now that she’d turned the tables he couldn’t very well not answer, not so soon after making up. He didn’t want to spend the rest of the trip walking on eggshells.
Olivia broke the silence. “I really hope you’re not counting.”
“Shh. Hang on. One hundred and six…”
She laughed, but he wasn’t fooled. She was still waiting. Then she sighed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t know how many, exactly.”
“You don’t know?”
“I didn’t keep count. A few. More than…five.”
“More than a hundred?”
Now he laughed. “No, Olivia.”
“How many of them were serious?”
“Relationships?”
“Yeah.”
He hesitated, not wanting to tell her the truth, but unwilling to lie. “None.”
“Not one woman out of a hundred and six?”
“Nope.” A hundred and six was a huge exaggeration, but he really didn’t know the number. He’d never thought much about it, until now.
She was silent for a moment, then, “Why not?”
He resisted the impulse to sigh, knowing it would only make things worse. “I didn’t want to. After Stacey—the first one—I enlisted, started working, traveling, and…I didn’t have the urge.”
“You didn’t have the urge?” She didn’t try to hide her disbelief.
“I like to fuck, Olivia. I didn’t have the urge to see them again, that’s all.” He was crude on purpose; he wanted the conversation to end, but didn’t want to be the one to do it so she couldn’t hold it against him.
But she pressed on, undeterred. “So what changed?”
“With you? I don’t know. You live nearby.”
“Jarek.”
Uh-oh. The teacher voice. “What do you want me to say? I’m an asshole. I wanted to know what happened to your engagement ring. Then I was pissed that you called that first night ‘fine.’ Then I wanted to do better.”
“Huh.”
“And you live nearby.”
She elbowed him in the gut. “Jerk.”
“And you smell good.”
“That’s better.”
“And I can’t take my eyes off your ass.”
She refused to be distracted. “Did things with Stacey end badly?”
He shook his head. “No. It just ended. I went away, we grew apart. Nothing dramatic. Just an ending.”
“Do you keep in touch with her?”
“No. She married a golf pro and lives in Texas or something.”
“A golf pro?”
He smiled. “Yeah.”
“Do you golf?”
“No.”
“Play any sports?”
“Hockey, sometimes. Not really.”
“Do you think you’ll go back to it?”
“Hockey? I don’t know. It wasn’t really a hobby.”
“I meant the no relationships. When we’re…done.”
He pulled away and rolled onto his back. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when we leave here.” And he really didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t say that he wouldn’t pick up women in bars, could he? That he’d never be horny and take care of that need the only way he’d known how until he’d met her? He certainly couldn’t promise to call them afterward. “What about you? Are you going to see Chris when you go back?”
She shrugged, eyes on the ceiling. “Probably. It’s a small town.”
“And he lives with your parents.”
A thin smile. “He moved out last month. I guess he finally realized it was strange for him to be living there.”
“It was really fucking strange.” A pause. “But that’s not what I meant. Do you keep in touch? Are you going to get back together with him?”
A longer pause. “We don’t keep in touch. But I’ve thought about it.”
Something inside him pulled painfully tight, and he clenched his fists, then forced the muscles to relax. When he spoke, his voice came out remarkably level. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t know what’s going to happen when we leave here.”
Ouch. His own words, used against him. “You’re too good for him.”
“Ha.”
“What?”
“Am I too good for you?”
He ran a hand across his mouth. “What do you think?”
“You already know what I think. What do you think?”
“Yes, you’re too good.”
“Then why am I with you?”
“Because you’re lonely.”
She stretched again. “I was lonely. I’m not now. Why am I still doing this?”
He couldn’t talk about it. He didn’t have the answer. He didn’t want to tell her he wasn’t good and decent, the way she thought he was, so instead he rolled over and buried his face in her neck. “Because you wanted to split the cost of the trip,” he mumbled.
She dragged her nails up his back, making him moan. “Am I that transparent?”
He laughed then, and didn’t reply. He, Jarek McLean, the man who’d made a living getting answers, had none when it came to her.
They eventually got hungry and left the hotel around noon. Their hotel, it turned out, was even more rundown and unappealing in the daylight. The immediate vicinity was crowded and noisy, a strange combination of old and new as tiny hole-in-the-wall shops competed with the gaudy neon signs of newer constructions. It was a hot day, and Jarek wore board shorts and a T-shirt while Olivia opted for jeans and a tank top. Even though there were more foreigners here, her bright hair still drew stares.
Olivia was torn between the desire to take it all in and the urge to shrink away. She’d been in China for nearly five months, but it still somehow managed to seem so…foreign. So intimidating. She knew something was truly frightening when it made Jarek feel like the safest option. But her tall, cranky boyfriend seemed to recognize her anxiety because he held her hand, which he never did, and he was using the patient voice she used on her students when they were driving her crazy.
A few blocks later she spotted a noodle shop like the one near her apartment and suggested they eat there, since she knew the chain and what to order. The restaurant was small and cramped and very warm. Jarek spotted an empty table and went to claim it, and Olivia approached the counter nervously, suddenly anxious about speaking. She meant it last night when she told Jarek she’d rather tour the city alone than be with him if he was going to snap at her, but now that she was outside the cocoon of their dingy little hotel room, she was glad he was here. She’d crossed the ocean in a fit of foolish bravery, and become afraid the second she’d landed. Each week had been a little easier, but she wasn’t the intrepid explorer she’d imagined she would be. She still needed someone to lean on, even though she was an adult who should be able to stand on her own two feet.
The older man at the cash register stared at her expectantly. He asked what she wanted in Mandarin, the words so fast she only caught them because she’d heard the question so many times before. Olivia straightened her spine and asked for her normal order, noodles with vegetables and two cans of Sprite.
His brow furrowed and he asked her to say it again.
She repeated the order three more times before he nodded, muttering to himself and punching keys on the register. He told her the price, using his hands to illustrate the numbers.
With the first obstacle overcome, she picked her way past children playing on the floor and pulled two drinks from the refrigerator, tempted to linger in its chill. Upon arriving in China she’d promptly learned that you had to specify you’d like your drink to be cold, otherwise you’d receive something lukewarm or boiling hot by default. She couldn’t fathom drinking hot tea on a day like today, but half the occupied tables seemed to be doing just that.
She joined Jarek and sat down, sliding his can across the table and taking a deep breath as she looked out the window at the familiar, buzzing scene outside. She should be used to this by now. She’d been an outsider for so long, but couldn’t seem to embrace it. She wanted things to be easy again, but it seemed they were only getting harder.
Jarek nudged her knee under the tiny table. “What’s wrong?”
She smiled in spite of herself. She knew he loved asking questions, but he didn’t like personal questions, didn’t want people to dump their problems in his lap. He didn’t want to help people, didn’t want to be relied upon, didn’t think he was that guy. But he was. He was that guy to her and she knew the guys at the site depended on him, too.
“I’m just hungry,” she lied, cracking open the drink and taking a long swallow.
He sat across from her, still and observant. “Liar.”
She watched him across the can, then trailed her tongue across her lower lip, catching the droplets that clung there. “Am not.”
He nodded, then sat back in his chair. “Suit yourself.”
This was better, she thought. She could be herself in this small bubble, just the two of them and food she knew and liked. China was her first foray outside of the United States. They’d always gone on family vacations within the country, popular destinations like Disney World and the Grand Canyon. She knew a handful of Spanish, but had never really needed to speak a foreign language before. She’d always, always been in her element, and things had never really been hard, until, of course, they were. She’d tried to be patient and wait for it to get better, but it hadn’t, and then she’d fled. She’d come to China—China!—expecting things to be easier. They weren’t. They were different. And they were hard. Because life was hard, and she was two weeks away from her twenty-eighth birthday and somehow she was only just now learning that lesson.
A server appeared with their food, and Olivia was relieved to see two plates of the familiar hand cut noodles slathered in tomato sauce, vegetables, sliced meat and egg. She picked out chopsticks from the basket on the table, pried them apart and dug in. Jarek reached across to steal an offensive green pepper from the top of the pile and she smiled at him. “I just feel like I’ll never be able to be on my own,” she said, eyes skittering away from his knowing stare. “I’m realizing that I’ve never been by myself, and I don’t know how.”
“You want me to abandon you some point during the day? Give you a feel for it?” He kept a straight face as he said it, but she saw the telltale twitch at the corner of his eye, the one that told her he was trying not to laugh.
“That day will come soon enough,” she said, pointing at him with a chopstick. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Now it was his eyes that left hers, focusing on his food, even as she saw the tiniest smile break through his stern features. “Okay,” he said. “I won’t.”
They walked for hours, first strolling through Tiananmen Square, then entering the Forbidden City, an enormous complex that had served as the Chinese imperial palace for five hundred years. Olivia insisted on paying for the audio tour, and though they were two people of hundreds doing the same thing, Jarek still felt like an idiot walking around with headphones, trying to stay on track so he was looking at the right item as it was being described.
He wasn’t much for this sort of thing, but he had to admit that the scope and grandeur was impressive. For something built in the fourteen hundreds, it had held up well, and the carpenter in him couldn’t help but admire the detailed workmanship. Olivia was taken with the painted scrolls and vases, ornate furniture and carvings, snapping the occasional photo. She hated doing it but needed something to send to her parents.
“Here,” she said at one point, standing in front of an intricately carved doorway. “Take a picture of me.”
“You want to remember this door for some reason?”
“I need to show them I’m surviving. Proof of life.”
He shook his head but took the photo, handing back her camera and turning down the volume on his tour. “Are they worried about you being over here?”
She shrugged. “I don’t think so. They’re more concerned about Thailand, for whatever reason.”
“What about it?”
“That I’m going by myself. A single woman traveling alone, all that.”
“Are you worried about it?”
Another shrug. “A little. It’ll be fine. I have to start sometime, right?”
He wasn’t going to dwell on it. “Sure. Are you about done here?”
She looked surprised at the abrupt change of subject. “No. We have a million more things to see.”
“We’ve been here for hours.”
“But the tour’s not over.”
“All right. You keep walking, I’m going to Starbucks.”
“What?” She followed his gaze to the eponymous coffee chain stationed in the Forbidden City, protested that it was blasphemous, then trailed him into the store and got some frozen chocolate concoction that she took with her as she left to continue the tour for another hour.
Jarek watched until she was out of sight, then bought an American newspaper and sat down to read. It was hard to concentrate. He hadn’t slept well in the lumpy bed, and they’d been on their feet for seven hours. He was tired, and Olivia’s enthusiasm made him feel old. What he really wanted to do was find a bar, order a cold beer, and relax for a while. Then he wanted to take Olivia back to their crappy hotel and ask for that “anything” she’d promised him on karaoke night, but had passed out before delivering. He’d intended to ask for it the next time he saw her, but she’d been on her period and had threatened to claw his eyes out if he so much as looked at her with any sort of lewd intentions, and he hadn’t found the nerve again after that.
“Anything interesting happening?”
He glanced up from the paper—he’d read all of four pages—and blinked at Olivia in surprise. “What are you doing back so soon?”
Going the Distance Page 18