The Rivals

by Allen , Dylan

  “What was that?” I wince at her pained cringe as the liquid made its way down.

  “Tequila.” She puts the empty glass down, grabs the bottle from the bar and walks over to sit next to me. She gulps half of the second glass and drops wearily onto the couch.

  “ I never cry,” she sounds bemused.

  I take the bottle of tequila and glass from her, pour myself a shot and throw it back. The burn is good and bracing.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she takes the glass back and I pour her another finger.

  “Well, you’ve had a pretty shitty trip so far. Except for the parts you spent with me, of course.” I grin when she sputters on her swallow.“How long are you here?” I ask.

  “I’m leaving on Sunday.”

  Perfect.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow,” I announce.

  She stills, her eyes widen with surprise and disappointment. Maybe it’s not such a moonshot after all. “Oh, so soon?” She tries to sound casual and sits back on the couch, her hands gripped together on her lap.

  “I’m going on an excursion for a few days.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. To where?” She asks, her voice tinny with false cheer.

  “A road trip to Isla Espiritu Santo. Stopping where we feel like between here and there.”

  She blinks, frowns. “We? You’re going with someone?”

  I nod. “With a woman friend.”

  Her eyebrows lift in surprise and then her expression shutters. “Well, Stone it was really nice to see you. Hope you brought enough condoms to last the rest of your trip.” She gets up from the couch.

  I grab her and yank her back down. “You’re gorgeous when you’re jealous.” I lean forward to kiss her.

  She shoves me away. “Are you out of your mind?”she growls, her dark brows furrow and look like the wings of an avenging angel. Her eyes glitter like stars and her face is flushed with sun and emotion. She is so beautiful

  I smile, all innocence. “Now that you’ve mentioned it, I don’t think I have enough condoms. Do you know where I can get some around here?”

  She gives me an acidic, contemptuous smile. “No, I don’t, asshole.” She yanks out of my grip.

  I bite back a cackle and take hold of her arm again.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, feigned confusion drawing my brows down.

  She doesn’t buy my act for one second and her lips curls in disgust. “I hope you and whoever you’re taking with you get a flat tire in the middle of the desert and have to walk for miles while coyotes chase you. And, I hope your dick falls off.”

  I can’t hold my laughter any longer. It’s shitty of me to be so giddy about it. But I am. She’s jealous. And I’ve teased her long enough.

  “It would be a shame if that happened because we’d miss swimming with the dolphins, bungee jumping, me eating your pussy when the sun rises, fucking it while it sets…”

  “Wait, what?” She stops squirming and puts two hands on my chest and shoves me away.

  I grin at the skeptical suspicion on her face.

  “Are you teasing me?” she asks, clearly affronted.

  “Yes. Captain Obvious,” I say.

  She narrows her eyes and frowns in disapproval.

  I drop a kiss on her sweet, puckered mouth. “You’re coming with me. Unless you want to stay here, staring out at that amazing view, instead of being part of it.”

  I pull her into my arms, and she struggles, but when I nuzzle the soft skin of her neck with my nose, she melts a little before pulling away again.

  “It’ll be great.” I press a kiss to her cheek, and she scowls.

  “I haven’t said yes.” She stares at her linked hands resting in her lap.

  “If you say no, you’ll regret it as soon as I’m gone.”

  “Maybe, but I’m very adept at living with my regret,” she says.

  She needs the trip worse than I thought. And my attempts to cajole her aren’t going to work, so I drop it and give it to her straight. “Listen, you have a lot going on. I’m not saying that I have the answers. But I think you need to really get away. Not just to bury your friend and lay around this boring resort. Let’s have an adventure.”

  Her eyes dart to me and then back to her hands.

  “It’ll be fun.” I nudge her, keeping my voice casual and free of the hope growing in my gut.

  “When would we be back?” she asks. It’s only tinged with tentative exuberance, but a smile curves the corners of her full mouth, and I have to stop myself from pumping my fist in the air.

  “On Friday, when the rest of my family is due.”

  Her eyes bulge. “Your family? Like…your brothers? They’re coming here?” Each sentence is louder than the one before it.

  “Yeah. My brother’s fiancée is throwing a surprise wedding here, and so, my whole family, except my mother, thank God, will be here on Friday.”

  She covers her face with her hands and groans into them.

  I knew this was coming. “They’ll be here Friday, and we’ll be discreet. It’ll be fine.”

  She moves her hands from her face and eyes me with a skeptical frown.

  “So, let’s say we do this. Then, what?”

  “We go our separate ways,” I answer with the obvious.

  “And, what happens when you move back to Houston, and we run into each other, and I’m with my husband.

  I envision the moment she’s just referenced, and it makes me feel like my skin is too tight.

  “It’ll be fine,” I say, ignoring the sensation.

  She winces and looks away. Her shoulders hunch. “Maybe… we shouldn’t have sex while we’re away.”

  I shake my head in vigorous disagreement. “I think that is a terrible idea, and I’m sure your vagina would agree.”

  She doesn’t smile. “I think we should be clear about what this is. I may or may not leave my husband. I don’t want us to get confused…and, I would hate to hurt you, Stone. The way I did back then.”

  It pricks my ire to have this compared to that. “I’m not that boy either, I don’t think I’ve got one foot in the grave, but relationships aren’t my thing. I used to think you’d be mine--.”

  “You did?” She asks wide eyed with surprise.

  “--when I was too young to know better.” I finish.

  “And now?”

  “Now…” I turn my gaze away, caught off guard by the direct question. I run a hand through my hair while I pick my words carefully. “Now, there’s some nostalgia for the past. But 99.5% of this is just a man who is insanely attracted to a woman who speaks his language in more ways than one. Your pussy feels great, tastes great too. I want more of it. But I’m not going to fall in love or anything... so, you don’t have to worry that I’ll stab your husband.”

  Her bark of laughter seems to surprise her as much as it surprises me. “I was thinking more like uncomfortable silences and dark glares.”

  “Not my style.” I assure her.

  Her lips twist. “Well, then let me speak for myself. I don’t want to end up with my feelings fucked. Clearly, I’m not in the best place emotionally. Maybe…we should just play it by ear. See how we feel once we’re all alone.”

  I couldn’t disagree more, but I’m not going to pressure her about this.

  “It’ll be great, either way, and I’ll take my cues from you.” I say and I mean it. Maybe when this is over, we’ll walk away friends again. At the very worst, she’ll be excellent company. And I know that we don’t need sex to connect.

  From our time in the bakery and that shuttle ride, I also know that Regan will break all sorts of rules when she thinks no one is watching. And we’re going to have plenty of alone time in the next few days.

  “I was going to leave at 9, is that too early?” I ask.

  She looks at me, her dark eyes twinkling, her smile wider than I’ve seen it since we’ve been here. “Right now wouldn't be too early.” She declares and then jumps up.

  “Oh my God,”
she screams suddenly and flops onto her back, clutching a pillow to her chest and kicking her legs wildly.

  “Woah!” I lurch back in surprise when she pops back up in a flash of dark hair and gleaming white teeth.

  “I’m so excited. I’ve never done anything like this. I can’t believe it.”

  “It won’t be luxurious like this. I don’t even know where I’m staying in Balandra.”

  “But it’ll be an adventure,” her enthusiasm in unflagging.

  “Do you speak Spanish?”

  “A little?” She says with a nervous grin.

  “Okay. Just don’t buy anything without me haggling for you, okay?”

  “Okay. So, we’re going? Really?” Her expression is hopeful but tinged with fear. Like she’s just been given the chance to have something she wants desperately and she’s afraid to believe it. It’s the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen her, and it takes my breath away.

  In a flash of certainty, I know that I’d move heaven and earth before I let that hope on her face do anything but flourish.

  “Yes, really. It’ll be fun at the very worst and at it’s very best, it will be life changing,” I say.

  She laughs and rolls her eyes. “I’ll be happy if it’s not a total disaster and I come home with all of my limbs intact.”

  “Oh, then you’re going to be ecstatic. Because you’re going to learn things about yourself you can’t know until you go to a place you’ve never been before.”

  “Wow. You’re really good at selling the idea of travel.”

  “I’m an evangelist for it.”

  She starts to dance around the room and as I watch her, I think…maybe living in Houston won’t be so bad. Especially if we can find a way to keep this going.

  No.

  I can’t let myself start thinking like that. When I move back to Houston, it won’t matter. There, she’s so off limits, it’s not even funny.

  No, what happens here is going to stay here.

  But as I watch Regan Wilde's sexy ass twirl around her hotel room with that horizon at her back, I get a glimpse of another unknowable destination - one where my future and my past collide, and then click into place.

  Chapter 18

  Social Butterfly

  Regan

  “We’re here,” A warm hand on my shoulder jostles me out of the most delicious nap I can recall taking. It takes me a moment to remember where I am. I glance over at Stone and the tender smile on his face makes my toes curl.

  I stretch and glance around at the collection of beautifully preserved buildings and the bright colors of the flags that adorn the main street we’re parked on.

  “Where are we?”

  “Todos Santos, I thought we could stop and grab coffee and take a picture outside Hotel California.”

  “Like the Eagles Song?”

  “Yeah, but the Eagles swear it’s not. Wait there.” He hops out of the car and I take the opportunity to admire his loose, ground eating stride as he comes around the front of the car to my side.

  He opens my door with a bow and offers me his hand and murmurs, “Goddess.”

  “You’re silly,” I giggle and let him help me climb out. He twines our fingers together as we walk down the street toward a cluster of restaurants. And, I don’t mind one bit. I haven’t held hands with anyone but my children in decades. I forgot how intimate it is. Even though I just rediscovered him two days ago, it feels just as comfortable and easy as it did all those years ago.

  We left just after sunrise and I didn’t even ask where we were going. I found I didn’t care. I trust him. And I want this experience, with all the handholding, beautiful views, and unscripted stops it comes with.

  I breathe in deep and catch the salt of the ocean and the sweet of the flowers and the spice of the aromas floating out of the restaurants, and my empty stomach grumbles.

  Todos Santos is one of Mexico’s most popular destinations. And not because of the hotel. It’s home to the burgeoning artist community who have come to set up shop and make a name for themselves.

  “This place is gorgeous. Can we eat and hang out for a bit?” I ask.

  Stone lets go of my hand, to sling an arm over my shoulder and pulls me close to his side. “We can do anything we fucking want,” he drawls.

  And we do.

  We sit and check Trip Advisor and decide on a place called Art and Beer for breakfast. It’s a quaint little outpost that can’t decide whether it wants to be an art gallery or bar and so has decided to be both. The chalkboard menus boasted everything from shellfish appetizers to whole lobster. We sat out on the reed covered deck that overlooked the spectacular wild blue of the Sea of Cortez.

  In all that time, we barely said a word. Normally, I’d feel compelled to fill silences with small talk. But as always, nothing with Stone is as it normally is. I thought the lack of structure in our plans would make me nervous. It hasn’t.

  I’m more relaxed than I can remember being. Ever.

  When we were just kids, and our relationship was based on a very different kind of feeling, we spoke a language that didn’t have words. It was accented by a mutual enjoyment of food, music, and trust. Now, I can add adventure, desire and safety to things we can share without saying a word.

  When we’re done eating, we walk out to an outdoor market set up on a narrow cobblestone street. It’s lined by vine covered hacienda’s that had been converted to tiny artisan shops. And they’re filled with glorious creations I wish my children were here to see.

  Stone is a social butterfly He smiles at and greets nearly everyone we pass. He asks so many questions about everything, then plays devil’s advocate with the answers. When we stopped at an art gallery, he drew one of the other patrons into a boisterous argument about the influence of 20th century Mexican muralists on the Chicano Mural Movement in the United States. At one point the man looked like he wanted to drop kick Stone, but the conversation ended in a fit of uproarious laughter and they parted ways after exchanging hearty slaps on the back.

  He kept pausing to translate for me, until I told him that I was enjoying just watching the body language and facial expressions. He’s as animated, curious, and mischievous as he’d been as a boy, but he’s got all the grace and athleticism of a man who pushes his body’s limits and takes a genuine interest in people. He’s a joy to watch.

  We sit to watch a group of old women, their heads covered in black kerchiefs play a wickedly competitive card game he said was called Conquian. Stone leans in and whispers in the ear of the woman closest to him.

  He’s been watching her hand from over her shoulder and whatever he says makes her eyes light up. She’s grinning when she puts her cards down, drawing groans from her friends. She and Stone share a high five. And they all kiss his cheeks when he tells them we’re leaving

  “How do you know how to play that game?” I ask we walk on, still hand in hand.

  “One of the other fellows in my program is Mexican, he taught me on the flight down.

  “And of course, you mastered it instantly,” I swing our joined hands and smile up at him.

  Suddenly, he presses me against a wall, cups my face and kisses me long and sweet

  “I used to dream about kissing you whenever I wanted,” he murmurs.

  My heart hammers, wild with the thrill of this reckless, spontaneous passion. “Then do it,” I breathe and wind my hands around his neck. He presses open mouthed kisses on my chin, my cheeks, my jaw, my ear, my neck, my eyes.

  And I revel in it. The Regan he knew is long gone, but he makes me remember and miss her. More than I have in a very long time. Maybe while we’re here, I can pretend that I’m her, still.

  His lips come back to mine and he cups my ass and grinds his hips against mine. “I want to fuck you right here. Right now, Regan. Can you feel how badly I want to?”

  A loud burst of laughter from an approaching group of tourists pierces our bubble. He casts them an annoyed glance, presses one more hard kiss to my mouth and whis
pers, “later”.

  We walk hand in hand, but I swear my feet never touch the ground and neither does my soul. The city is beautiful, the weather is amazing, and there’s contentment welling in my chest, tickling me, stretching my heart, healing it, too.

  I glance over at Stone as we walk along and marvel that this man is that same little boy. From the chiseled, stubble covered jaw, to the sleek, bold lines of his high cheekbones, and the strong slope of his aquiline nose, he’s a walking work of art.

  But the thing I’ve enjoyed most is seeing him interact with other people and watching all that intellect and charm converge. He doesn’t seem to realize how everyone falls in love with him. Because he’s too busy enjoying the moment.

  He turns his head and I wish I could see what’s behind the reflective lens of his aviator sunglasses, but the sensual smile on curving his lips is one of pure, male satisfaction.

  “Let’s have lunch, I’m starving.” He says more than asks, and I find I don’t mind one bit. I’m like a kite being carried on the wind, without a care in the world because Stone Rivers - strong, kind, and daring - is my tether.

  We pick a place called La Molina based on reviews on TripAdvisor… “This is even prettier than the pictures, right?” I remark as we’re shown to a table in their courtyard that looks like something out of a fairytale. Lush green plants bursting with huge colorful blooms fill the space. And rustic wooden tables canopied to shield us from the afternoon sun are arranged so that you can spread out. We order fresh shrimp ceviche, octopus carpaccio and pork ribs and settle on a pitcher of their house mojito.

  “So, tell me Stone, what have you done for the last eighteen years,” I ask as soon as the waitress is done flirting with him and leaves.

  “Gosh, how strange that I haven’t once mentioned what I consider the biggest part of my life. I’m a doctor. An obstetrician gynecologist, but lately, I’ve been focused almost solely on obstetrics. I’m finishing up my final year in fellowship in Global Maternal Health in Colombia.”