Wet: Part 2

by Rivera, S. Jackson

  “It’s a high desert.” She let out a little laugh. “The Wasatch Front has great mountains. The La Sal Mountains are beautiful too, but most of the state is pretty desert-like, unique, and magnificent, but Utah is hot and dry in the summer.” She giggled. “It’s July, Paul—not cold.”

  “But the air conditioner hasn’t shut off once since we got here.”

  “That’s because it’s July in the desert. It’s hot.” She reached for the sheet and pushed it up to his chin, making a production of tucking him in. “Is that better?”

  He smiled back and was about to sneak a kiss, but she hopped off the bed and over to adjust the thermostat.

  “There. That should be better.”

  “Thanks.” He watched her climb into bed this time. “What was that about a swim?”

  “I, uh . . .” She blushed, regretting bringing it up, pretending to be so bold. “I was curious about how you plan to deal with your need to go for a swim, when there’s no ocean around here. Utah Lake is down the road, but I wouldn’t recommend swimming in it.”

  “Oh.” His gaze shot back to his e-reader, a little too quickly. He pursed his lips. “There’re other ways of working off that energy.”

  “Oh.” She sat quietly, thinking. “And those, ‘other ways’, would include what I offered today, but you refused?”

  “Rhees,” he said with a heavy breath. “Let’s not go there again. Please?”

  “Okay.” She conceded more readily this time. “Good night.”

  She lay down and rolled onto her side, facing away from him.

  “But thanks for the offer.”

  oOo

  “It’s freakin’ freezing in here.” Paul reached for Rhees and pulled her into him to spoon. “Can we snuggle? I dreamed I was cold, and I couldn’t find you. I prefer our little bed at home. King-sized beds are overrated.”

  “What time is it?” Rhees asked, groggy after only a few hours of sleep. She reached back and patted him on the cheek before entwining her arms and feet with his to help warm him up.

  “Two fifteen. Sorry to wake you, but the air conditioning is still on hyper-drive.”

  “Want me to turn it down some more?”

  “No. Don’t get up. I’ll be okay if you’ll keep me warm.”

  “Sure. How many times have you snuggled with me through my nightmares? But just a sec.” She broke free from his hold.

  “Brrr . . . don’t leave me.” His arms stretched out after her.

  She reached down to the bottom of the bed and grabbed the corner of the comforter, pulling it up over them before settling back down into their spooning position.

  “Better?”

  “Yeah, it’s nice, but not as nice as you.” He kissed her ear and they were both asleep again within seconds.

  A couple of hours later, Paul stirred, his body clock held true, not needing to adjust to time zone changes. Since the island didn’t observe daylight savings time, Utah’s time happened to be the same as what he was used to. Like most mornings, when he stirred, so did Rhees. This morning, however, every muscle in her body went rigid, waking with a small jolt.

  He did a quick mental check to determine the problem. His morning-ness knocked against her soft behind, a problem, but it had happened many mornings when she was the one who’d initiated the snuggling. She’d grown used to it as long as he didn’t make the mistake of trying to grind on her, even a little. Another assessment later, he detected the real problem.

  His right arm remained draped across her body, the palm of his hand splayed out affectionately over her belly. Still shouldn’t have been a problem, except her T-shirt had somehow drawn up during the night. His hand had found its way to exposed skin, his pinky and ring finger rested low, below her panty line, under the elastic, against, not only her bare skin, but tangled in her pubic hair.

  He immediately yanked his hand away and smoothed her T-shirt down, but she didn’t relax.

  “You okay? You know I didn’t mean it, right? I was asleep. I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t respond so he pulled on her, rolling her toward him. She fought his attempt but he persisted and won. She squeezed her eyes shut, but nodded, a little too jerkily, as if over-compensating assurance, or lying.

  “There’s your answer about giving me a hand with—” He pressed his own eyes shut at his unintentional pun.

  He’d hoped to make light of the situation, but he didn’t think the circumstances very comical. It actually worried him, and reminded him of thoughts, concerns, he’d entertained before. He’d never asked about it, thinking a woman’s reasons for this sort of thing would be very personal. If Rhees wanted to talk about it, she would. At least that’s what he’d always told himself, until now.

  “There’s another reason you’re still a virgin, isn’t there . . . besides wanting to wait until you’re married?”

  Her eyes burst open, and he would have burned from the intense glare if she didn’t look away even faster than she’d looked his way. She threw the covers off and got out of bed.

  “I need the bathroom.” She sounded alarmed, almost panicked.

  “Rhees?” Paul sat up, ready to take after her, his anxiety worse than before.

  “Yeah?” she asked calmly, turning. She smiled the warmest, most relaxed smile, as if she’d just swallowed a ray of sunshine, no trace of the terrified panic she’d exhibited only seconds ago. He hated the possibilities that had crossed his mind about what could have caused her to be this way, but he decided it best to return to the, wait until she’s ready, approach.

  oOo

  Over the next two days, Paul played tourist, with Rhees as his tour guide. They got up early and hiked Y Mountain to watch the sun rise and light up the valley where Rhees had grown up. They sat on Brigham Young University’s symbol and ate take-out Kneader’s French toast with buttermilk syrup, a local favorite. Paul claimed the treat was now his favorite breakfast too. They drove around town in their rented Jeep while Rhees showed Paul her history. He insisted on seeing every school she’d ever attended and every house she’d ever lived in. She showed him all but the one she lived in before starting kindergarten. She said she didn’t remember where it was.

  At the last house, they dropped in next door to say hello to Mrs. Michaels, but she kept them much longer than they’d expected, insisting they stay for dinner. Rhees tried to make excuses, thinking Paul would be bored out of his mind spending the evening with the old woman.

  “I’m sorry,” she’d said. “But Paul’s made reservations—”

  “We’d love to, Mrs. Michaels,” he contradicted Rhees. “I’ll call and reschedule our reservations for tomorrow.”

  “Please,” the woman said. “Call me Karla.”

  Rhees could hardly hide her bewilderment at Paul’s enthusiasm about staying, and knowing that, in all the years she’d known her, Mrs. Michaels had never asked her to call her by her first name.

  “Mrs. Michaels,” Rhees teased during dessert, as Paul pumped Karla for information about young Rhees—she’d figured out why he’d accepted the invitation. “Are you flirting with my boyfriend?”

  “Of course,” Karla answered. “A widowed woman can get away with shamelessly flirting with a man this handsome if the age difference spans more than forty years.”

  Paul didn’t help matters, as he’d been giving her the unabridged version of his Paul, the seasoned lady killer, experience since they’d shown up at her door.

  Paul watched Rhees pull her family album from one of the boxes of personal belongings Mrs. Michaels had been storing for her. He sat on the bed with her and they thumbed through the pages.

  “I’d like to take this back with me. Do you think it would be safe? I mean, I’d hate it if the humidity on the island ruined the pictures. This is all I have left of my family.”
r />   Paul put a comforting arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

  “I wouldn’t risk it, but we could go to one of those copy places and have it scanned so you can keep it online. A digital copy will last forever and you can look at the pictures anytime you’re at a computer.”

  She nodded, and then laughed at herself for choking up. Paul squeezed her to him tighter. He pulled her chin up with his finger and kissed the tears from each eye before they had the chance to fall down her cheeks. After they’d looked through the album a couple of times, they resumed going through the boxes, looking for more items she might want to take with her.

  “My hair dryer!” she exclaimed excitedly as she pulled it from the box. She reached back in. “And my curling iron.”

  “You don’t need those,” Paul said, amused. “You wear dive hair better than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  She snorted in disbelief.

  “The humidity will just undo any effort you waste trying to style your hair, and I like it the way you’ve been wearing it.” He found himself running his fingers down the length of her hair, adoringly. He loved her hair. He loved—he suddenly felt uncomfortable with his feelings. “Add that to how much I really like how speedy my pretend girlfriend can get ready—”

  “There’s the truth. Speedy and simple—the island way,” Rhees mumbled as she put the hair styling tools back into the box, oblivious to the real reason he’d played it off. “You’re probably right.”

  She resumed digging through one of the boxes while Paul snooped through her things in another. He held up a short, spaghetti strap nightie and glanced over at her. She was too busy looking through her own box to notice, but he tried to imagine her wearing it to bed. He quickly wadded it up and stuffed it to the bottom of the box he’d been working his way through—she’d be safer sleeping in his baggy T-shirts.

  oOo

  “I’ll make her call you once in a while, I promise,” Paul told Karla as they walked out the door. “I’m sorry you’ve been so worried about her. If I’d known she hadn’t contacted you since she left, I would have made her.” Paul gave Rhees a bug-eyed look about never using her phone.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” Rhees blushed with remorse and Paul put a comforting arm around her.

  “Thank you. I won’t need to worry so much anymore now that I know she’s got you, but it would be nice to hear from her once in a while—both of you.” Karla winked, keeping up the act that she and Paul had something going on between them.

  “You take care of this boy, Rhees,” Mrs. Michaels warned. “If you don’t treat him right, I may forget how much I love you and steal him away.” That made them all laugh and they said their good-byes.

  oOo

  The next day, they visited Thanksgiving Point to see the dinosaur museum, and later, ice blocked down the slopes of Rock Canyon Park. Rhees had watched people doing it, but never dared try it herself. Paul had never heard of ice blocking before, but she told him it was another fear she’d vowed to overcome, so he patiently helped her cross it off her list.

  “Is there anything you’re afraid of?” Rhees asked after he’d flown down the slope without a moment’s hesitation, to show her how easy it was.

  He helped her onto her chunk of ice as he appeared to ponder the question, but shook his head.

  “Nope.” Once he’d said it, he seemed to think better of his answer. “Only you.”

  “You’re not afraid of me.” She snorted.

  He raised his eyebrows high at her statement and gave her a push, sending her on her way down the hill. She screamed bloody murder, and a few obscenities directed at him, which surprised him.

  That afternoon, they hiked the steep trail of Bridal Veil Falls in Provo Canyon, and afterwards, they walked around Robert Redford’s resort, Sundance, before having dinner at the Tree Room.

  “Robert Redford and Paul Newman are better looking than you,” she said, trying to hold back a grin. They stood on the bridge and watched the water flow beneath them. He gave her a sideways glance and smirked. “But that’s about it. I can’t think of anyone else who even comes close.”

  “They’re ancient.”

  “I’ve only watched cartoons and old, classic movies, remember? I’ll always remember them the way they looked as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I was sad when Mr. Newman passed away, but Mr. Redford lives here. People I know have run into him when they’ve come up to ski.”

  “We could go look for ole’ Bob if you want.” Paul pretended to be looking for Mr. Redford. “I’m sure we can find him, no reason to settle for number three.”

  He seemed a little too serious. She watched him warily—worried he hadn’t taken it as the compliment she’d intended. Who would get offended at being compared to two of the greatest looking men to have ever lived? “No. That’s all right. He had his chance for twenty-four years and totally snubbed me. I can pretend to settle for third best.”

  Paul was too quiet for the next few minutes.

  “Are you jealous . . . of Robert Redford?”

  “No.” He sounded pouty. “I can still turn a few heads, you know. I’d be willing to bet, in a contest, I’d turn more heads than even Bob—the old pud!”

  “I meant it as a compliment!” She giggled, realizing how her comment really bothered him. “Don’t you worry about coming across as conceited?”

  “What am I supposed to do? Deny it? ‘Aw shucks. That’s only the third time I’ve been told how handsome I am, today, but I’m not good looking. Everyone must be wrong’. Rhees, there’s hardly been a day of my life that my looks haven’t come up, so, am I supposed to pretend like I don’t believe what thousands of people say is true? My whole life, everywhere I go, no matter what I do, it’s just my life. Personally, it’s meaningless to me. Yes, I have a pretty face—” He deadpanned. “I can’t believe I just called myself pretty. Please, don’t ever call me pretty. It’s bad enough to be called beautiful all the time, because I’m not. I’m an ugly person.”

  “No, you’re not. Looks aside, you’re—”

  “Stop,” he said in a no-nonsense tone. “You are true beauty.”

  “Ha!” She scoffed. “You are the only person on the planet who has ever said that. Well, my parents too, but parents have to say that about their kids. It’s a rule or something.”

  “Rhees.” His disposition had turned so solemn. “I was born looking this way. I had nothing to do with it. Everything about me that I could control, I’ve screwed it up. You are so beautiful! You are absolutely exquisite, inside and out. You inspire me. I’m trying to be more like you.” He tried to laugh it off, not liking how vulnerable he suddenly felt. “But dang. It’s hard, and I’m not doing a very good job.”

  “You’re wrong. You are not ugly, not on the outside, obviously, but not on the inside either. If I’m really as good as you say, and you’re as bad as you—”

  “Don’t even.” He put his lips over hers to shush her. It had become his favorite method. “I know where you’re going with this. Don’t feel sorry for me for being even better looking than Robert Redford and Paul Newman.” He smirked, but then was serious again. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

  She hugged him and didn’t let go.

  “I can’t help that I was born so damned, incredibly good-looking, or that I know it . . . or that I learned to use it to my advantage whenever possible.”

  oOo

  Their last day in Utah, they arrived at University Mall at lunch time. They ate Chinese, something they’d both longed for since there were no Chinese restaurants on the island. After lunch, they began exploring the mall in order for Rhees to refresh her wardrobe. She dragged Paul from one store to the next, and he decided he’d finally discovered a flaw. Her method of shopping drove him absolutely crazy.

  She had to see every item of
clothing in every store, try each item on, and if she liked something, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to buy it until she checked to see what the next store had first. If she didn’t find something better, they had to go back to the first store again.

  “I need a drink,” he said. “How about I go find a bar and wait for you there.”

  “Good luck with that,” she answered. “I’m sure there are others in the valley, but I only know of one bar, and it’s in Provo, not far from our hotel. Even people I know who drink say they wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “Where do people get a drink?”

  “They don’t.” She giggled. “Paul, this is Happy Valley, Utah. The majority of the people here don’t believe in drinking.”

  “I had a beer at the restaurant. I’ll go back there.”

  “You’ll have to order food again. They can’t serve you a drink unless you eat, first.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  “Nope.” She held a skirt up to herself and looked in a mirror on the wall, trying to decide if she wanted to try it on. He had to smile at her.

  “Meet me in front of the restaurant in, what, an hour and a half? Two?” He got a better look at the skirt she held. “I like that one.”

  “Really? You don’t think it’s a little too colorful and short?”

  “No. I like it. You should get it.”

  “I’ll have to try it on first, but I could buy it and half the clothes in this mall—now that I’m so rich.”

  He grinned at how she thought ten thousand dollars made her rich. The tone of her voice still sounded a little irritated, making him recall her reaction when she finally did find the money in her account. They’d fought, and she insisted on giving it back, but he, using all the charm and powers in his arsenal, finally convinced her it was honest wages for the work she’d done the first few weeks at the shop and a well-earned bonus for putting up with Mr. Meanie-Head as a boss.