by Adele Huxley
“Sometimes it feels like I’m in a play, my life controlled by Puck,” I said dreamily.
“Puck?” Clint frowned.
I felt a jolt of embarrassment when I realized how crazy that sounded out of context. “My English major is showing,” I chuckled. “Puck is a character in one of my favorite Shakespeare plays, A Midsummer’s Night Dream. He’s this fairy who goes around the entire play causing havoc with all the couples in the play. He’s like a devilish cupid, kind of.” Okay, it didn’t sound any better with context.
“Ah,” Clint replied. “I haven’t seen that one.”
Another silence settled between us and I wanted to even the scales by sharing a bit of my own. “My fight with Anette is actually why I came out here this weekend. I booked a last-minute flight and ran away from home,” I confessed.
He pulled his gaze from the sea and back to me. Besides that, he remained quiet. It was like he knew that was the best way to keep me talking.
“The guy I’ve been seeing, well not seeing, seeing, but…” I grunted out of frustration. I slammed my elbows down on my knees and peered at him from the corner of my eye. “You know the term ‘friends with benefits?’”
He sucked his cheek in, I think to keep from laughing. “No, but I grasp the concept. I’m more familiar with ‘fuck buddy,’ but go on.”
“Same difference. Well, I’ve been benefitting from one of my guy friends. When Anette found out, she said we were being selfish and not thinking about the whole friend group.”
“Why? Was she upset she didn’t get first dibs?” he snorted. I shot him an incredulous and surprised look over my shoulder. “I’m sorry. Sorry. I couldn’t resist. Go on.”
“She’s gay,” I reminded him absently.
“I was referring to you,” he chuckled.
Mr. English with the sense of humor… I shook my head and laughed, admitting it was a pretty good jab. “No, she thought that one of us would develop feelings and the whole messy thing would destroy our group of friends.”
“Ah, yeah. I’ve heard of that happening.” He leaned forward and matched my posture.
“Problem is, she was right.” Clint didn’t move, not a muscle or a hair until I added. “Zach apparently loves me and I have no idea what do about it.”
Did he just breathe a sigh of relief? I wondered as Clint straightened.
Another few moments of quiet passed between us and I couldn’t help but scoff. “So, what’s your relationship advice?” I asked with good humor.
“The fuck if I know.”
“Oh, good! Glad we had that talk then,” I laughed. But when he didn’t join me, I stopped.
“I realized I didn’t answer your question. Alison was the first person to bring me up here, show me this place. She packed a picnic and led me up a different trail than the one we took, timing the hike so we could have dinner as the sun sank into the ocean.”
His response was surprisingly poetic. “So this place has good memories for you, then.”
He dipped his head low, shoulders slumping. I resisted the urge to reach out and touch him just as he sat up. “No, not really. But they’re quickly fading now that I’m up here.”
Clint held my gaze, his green eyes glowing from the sunlight. His last sentence had cut short in this throat and I could almost hear him finish, with you…
A new layer of sweat sprung up on my skin. Nervously, I played with the hem on my soaked shirt. “You aren’t planning on kissing me at sunset or something, are you?” It was meant to diffuse the situation, not add kindling to it. I really do say some stupid fucking things when I’m nervous, don’t I?
With a total deadpan response, Clint frowned. “If I did that, we’d never make it out alive.”
“What?” I gasped.
“If I waited that long, I mean,” he smirked. “Mountain lions like to hunt at dusk.”
Would you think less of me if I said both the mountain lions and idea of kissing Clint terrified me equally?
We lingered at the top for another half hour before deciding it was time to head down. Although the sun hung low in the sky, he assured me the actual sunset wouldn’t be for another couple hours. We began the slow descent back to the car. At least in this direction I wasn’t so out of breath I couldn’t talk.
“So, can you tell me anything about the show you’re out here for?”
Clint turned and looked over his shoulder. When our gazes met, his gorgeous smile crinkling the corners of his secretive eyes, it was like he’d swept me off my feet. No. Really. I was so focused on him, I wasn’t paying attention to the trail. My foot slipped off a big rock and I rolled my ankle, throwing me desperately off balance. I gave a shout of surprised pain just before I hit the ground.
“Are you okay?” he asked, at my side in an instant.
I looked up at him with wide eyes, the pain numbed momentarily by shock. “I think so.”
“Looks like you got a couple scrapes, but you’re sure? That was a pretty hard fall.”
My heart slammed against my ribs as I nodded. “I’m glad I went this way and not over the edge.”
“Me too,” he breathed as he rocked back to his heels and offered a hand. “Think you can stand?”
I was still so surprised by the fall I didn’t have time to feel embarrassed. I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet, but the moment I tried to put weight on my right foot, I cried out. Still on the slope and now deathly afraid of the edge of the trail, I lunged for his shoulders.
“Shit. Is it broken? I can’t fly home if it’s broken and I don’t think Lourdes has room for me to stay at her place and…”
Clint took me by both shoulders and stilled my blathering with one calm look. “First thing we need to do is get to the car, okay? I’m going to carry you down and…”
I vigorously shook my head. “No, come on…”
But he cut me off, his voice firm and commanding… and very sexy. “I’m going to carry you down where we can better evaluate and treat your ankle.” He took off his backpack and handed it to me to put on.
Clint then turned around, hooked his arms under my legs, and hoisted me up on his back.
“I’m sorry I’m so heavy,” I immediately apologized.
“I can barely feel you.”
He tried to keep my mind off the pain with conversation, but I had my own distractions. The throbbing in my ankle went away after a couple minutes and I was almost positive I could’ve walked. But I kept my mouth shut.
Clint English was essentially nestled between my legs. I clung to his rock-hard shoulders, his back muscles working against my stomach and chest. Our bodies wet from sweat, hot and pressed together. The firm grip of his hands on my thighs made me wish he’d spin around and...
“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling me from my daydream.
“Good, good. Yeah, sorry.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take a look at your ankle when we get down there. Only a little more to go.”
You would’ve thought after a night of amazing sex, my libido would be a bit calmer. But there was something about Clint that I simply couldn’t resist. Plus, I had to hand it to him… he’s in incredible shape.
After a quick assessment at the car, Clint confirmed my suspicion. “I’m pretty sure it’s only sprained. But let’s get you back so you can ice and elevate it.”
I kept waiting for the embarrassment to hit like a slap to the face, but it never came. He was so wonderful about the whole thing I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. In fact, riding next to him in the convertible in the golden evening light was incredible.
When we reached the house, he rushed to the passenger side to help me up.
“The least I can do is walk to you to the door,” he said as I looped my arm around his neck.
“It’s hardly your fault I fell,” I joked. “When you get to know me, you’ll see exactly how clumsy I am.”
He helped me up the small step but stayed on the ground level, making us closer in height. I steadied
myself on his shoulder. “I’ll take that as an offer,” he breathed.
I didn’t have time to react, not that I would’ve pulled away. Before I knew what was happening, Clint’s lips met mine. And this wasn’t a half-oops-I-missed-your-cheek kiss. This was full of intent and passion. My fingers dug into his shoulder as a little yelp of surprise trapped in my throat.
But I bounced back quickly, my hand going to the back of his head as he pulled me closer. The kiss could’ve only lasted a couple seconds but the waiting, the buildup, and honestly, the amount of time I’d spent fantasizing about it made the blissful moment stretch.
Clint broke away first, pressing his cheekbone against mine as he caught his breath. The man can carry me down a mountain and this makes him breathless? I thought.
“I… uh…” he cleared his throat and made sure I was steady on my feet. “I hope you have a good night.”
“You too,” I replied huskily.
“See you next week, hopefully.”
“You too,” I repeated. Talia… can’t you be cool for once in your life? “I had a great time.”
“Me too,” he replied with a grin.
I gave him a little wave from the door and shut it behind me, leaning back as the car engine roared away. I can’t believe I’d gone from kissing only one guy for seven years to kissing three, and sleeping with two, in a matter of a week. Talia, you little minx...
I couldn’t wrap my head around what just happened. It all felt like a dream, like I would wake up in my stifling hot apartment on the Upper West Side and laugh at how ridiculous I’d been.
Lourdes called out as I shut the front door. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, hi,” I replied, my voice a little shaky.
Seconds later, I heard her flat footsteps on the tiled floor slapping toward the front hall. “You okay?” she asked, poking her head around the corner. “Are you limping?”
“Yeah. It’s a long story and I definitely need a drink.”
Twenty minutes later we were outside by the pool, a bottle of wine split between us. I’d never been so thankful to have Lourdes as a friend. Level-headed, optimistic, calm Lourdes.
“This is seven shades of fucked up,” she laughed after I finished recounting my evening.
I nearly spit out my wine. Sputtering, I tilted my head and stared. “What a stunning observation. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Well, do you like him?” she asked.
I grinned, feeling like a couple of freshmen gossiping over some cute guy she’d seen in Geology again. But this time, it was me swooning over the cute guy. Tied to Kevin during my teens and early twenties meant I was always the one listening and never gushing.
“What’s not to like? He’s gorgeous, adventurous, charming. He has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the world, like you’re the most important thing to him.”
“Then I say go for it.”
“It’s not that simple. Even if he weren’t the first author Lisa assigned to me, he travels all around the world. He even said it himself. He doesn’t stay in one place more than a couple weeks at a time.”
“What’s so wrong with that? Sounds like the perfect guy.”
I pulled my knees up to my chest and frowned. “How do you mean?”
Lourdes looked into the middle distance thoughtfully. “You said you aren’t looking for a long term relationship, right?”
“Right…”
“But the one-night-stand, Tinder hookups aren’t doing much for you either?”
“They’re great fuel for the blog,” I snorted. “But no. Other than Oliver, that path has failed me miserably.
“Then what’s better than a guy who drops in and out of your life every couple weeks? You get to keep things casual but semi-committed. You can move at whatever pace you want and, Tee,” she said, her voice growing serious.
“What?”
“He’s H. O. T. And probably on his way to becoming super famous, so maybe you’ll get to walk the red carpets with him!” Lourdes gushed.
“I suppose…”
Would it be the worst thing in the world? I mean, it’s not like Lisa is gonna fire me over this, right? Maybe if we just waited until after the project ended…
Lourdes’ dreamy voice pulled me from my thoughts. “I bet celebrity sex is better than normal sex.”
I almost did a spit-take with my wine. The way she said it so casually, like it was a deep philosophical question.
“How would their sex be any different?” I laughed.
“I don’t know. All fancy-like. Limos, furs, sex on private jets.”
I gave her a wink over the rim of my wine glass. “You’ll be finding out soon enough, my famous vlogger friend.”
Her eyes lit up as she spun on the deck chair. “Have you ever done it on a plane?”
“Mile High Club? No. Closest thing I’ve done was give Kevin a sad handjob under a blanket that time we flew to France.” I giggled at the memory, surprised I was even sharing it with her. The blog certainly had changed things. “He’d bugged me for weeks to do it in the bathroom, but I’d haggled him down to a handy. And the damn thing lasted for hours because I stopped every time a flight attendant walked by.”
Lourdes’ infectious laugh got me going again. This brought the conversation back around to old times, funny things that happened in college, old friends we’d lost touch with. My stomach rumbled and I realized how late it’d gotten.
“You wanna order some food and relax for the night?” I suggested.
“Only if you tell me what you’re going to do about your hunk.”
I chewed on my lip, wanting to give her a genuine answer. But I couldn’t really come to a conclusion then and there.
“Honestly, I’ve gotten so used to writing out my thoughts…”
“Say no more! I’m sure whatever you decide to do will be perfect.”
That’s exactly what I loved about Lourdes and why I needed to come out to California. She was the steady rock in our group, the person who would never judge but always listen. I’d gone out there to get my head on straight, to figure out how to handle the situation I’d left back in New York. After our first night, she didn’t once ask me what I was going to do about Zach or Anette. I know if I’d brought it up, she would’ve listened to me talk for hours.
God, I love that girl.
Lourdes and I had a great night and a quiet morning before she drove me to the airport. We hugged goodbye long enough in the drop-off area that a cop stopped to tell her to move along. She promised she’d come out to visit soon. I said the same. I stood on the sidewalk and watched her wild hair fly in the wind as she drove away.
I’ve always enjoyed airports. There are few places in life that so nicely condense human emotion. Happiness to see a loved one, sadness if you’re leaving them. Excitement about going on vacation, weariness if the trip is for business. I can’t think of a better place to people-watch.
I’d arrived with plenty of time for the flight, so I decided to check my bag and do a little window shopping.
The woman at the desk scanned my information and made a strange sound with her throat. She had a pinched face that looked like it might crack if she ever tried to smile. “Ms. McGinley. It seems your flight has been oversold.”
“Okay, what does that mean exactly?”
“There’s another flight that leaves at 4:45 p.m. If you’d be willing to give up your seat on your current flight, we’d be happy to upgrade your ticket to business class.”
With a sad little pang, I realized I didn’t have anyone exactly waiting for me on the other end. But that momentary blip was erased when I realized I was getting an upgrade.
“Absolutely. That’d be fine.”
“Great, I’m so pleased,” she drawled, her expression showing none of that pleasure. “As another thank you, here is a voucher you can use anywhere in the terminal.”
I spent the afternoon in the airport happier than you could imagine. I treated myse
lf to a manicure, ate a delicious lunch courtesy of my airline, and pretended to be wealthy enough to afford half the stuff the shops were selling.
It gave me extra time to solidify what I’d written in my blog the night before. Zach and I had to stop, I needed to find a way to make up with Anette, and I couldn’t let anything happen with Clint while we were still working together… if at all. I’d written it half to figure the situation out for myself and half for Anette, just in case she checked for new posts.
I’m not a frequent flier, but I’d always wanted to be one of those smug people in business class. They’re already relaxed and spread out in their plush seats, usually sipping on sparkling wine while the rest of us have to squeeze through back into cattle class. As one of the first to board the plane, I couldn’t help but feel that false sense of importance puff out my chest a little. That feeling lasted the length of the gangway.
I showed my ticket at the door of the plane and peered up to the numbers above each seat. I did a quick scan of the half-full section and stumbled when my eyes fell upon one person in particular.
Clint English carefully folding his jacket, slipping it into the bulkhead, and taking a seat in Row 7.
My row. Holy shit. Crapballs. Holy shitty crapballs, was approximately my first thought. I didn’t become more eloquent from there.
I hope you enjoyed the fifth installment of the Chronicles of a Serial Dater series! If you have a second, it’d be awesome if you could leave a review! And while you’re there, make sure to check out the next installments!
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