by Mason, Dana
“Are you having a good time?” I ask.
“Yes, so much fun! This show is great. They’re so talented, don’t you think?” She gives me the side-eye as if I’ve done something wrong. “Wait, you’ve seen this show before, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but they change it every year.”
She places her hand on my forearm. “How many times have you seen it?”
“Maybe five or six.” I know exactly how many but I don’t want to remember the first time right now, so I fight to keep my mind from venturing there.
“It must be nice to have a job where you can take three weeks off for Hawaii every single year.”
I wag a finger at her. “Don’t go there, Emily. That’s breaking the rules.”
Her eyes widen, and her mouth shapes into a perfect O. “Oh, sorry. I forgot.” I notice that her words are slightly slurred.
“Are you feeling okay?” I ask.
“Oh, my God, I feel great. This is great. I haven’t felt this relaxed in years.”
Watching her makes me happy. I have the impression that she’s either coming out of a bad breakup or she’s somehow been hurt. Her eyes often reflect a sadness that’s hard to miss. Which makes her current smile stand out that much more.
She’s so beautiful. Her hair is starting to break free from its tight bun and the tension around her eyes is gone as well. Her brother must be right; she needed this. When the performers take their final bow, Emily stands and claps with the rest of the audience, but then she tilts and has to balance herself against the table. I had a feeling that was going to happen. Those Mai Tais can sneak up on people.
She laughs it off and sits back down, but I can see the spinning in her eyes as she looks over at me. “Can I help you to your room?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I guess it’s okay since you’re in the room across the hall.”
I hold back my laugh at her nonchalance. “Might as well keep each other company since we’re both alone, right?”
She points at me and slurs, “That’s right.”
Taking her elbow, I follow the crowd as it disperses through the open doors, then I veer her to the right, following the crowd toward the elevators. She’s chatting away when it’s our turn to enter and I’m glad she’s not feeling sick. Her skin is bright, not pale at all, which reassures me she’s still feeling fine.
When we’re inside, she digs around in her handbag and pulls out her key card. Then she stumbles a bit before resting against me. The elevator stops several times as guests slowly exit onto their floors. After several stops, we’re alone, and Emily is very quiet. I glance up at the mirror so I can see her face as she’s leaning against my arm. Her eyes are closed, and if I didn’t know it was impossible, I’d think she was sleeping.
“Emily, you okay?”
She nods slightly against my arm and murmurs, “Muhum.”
Just then, the elevator dings and the doors open to our floor. I grab her arm and take a step forward, but she doesn’t move. “We’re here,” I say in a sing-song voice but she only nods again.
I wrap one arm around her waist and grab her hand with the other to lead her out. She stumbles but finally moves along with my steps. When we reach her room, I take her key from her slack grip and open the door.
Carefully, I lead her into the room without letting her slide to the floor. She stumbles, but I grab her before she goes down and let the door close softly behind us. The stumbling must have brought her out of the stupor because she looks up at me with a hazy yet relaxed expression. Her eyes lock on mine and then she reaches up and expertly tugs three pins out of her hair, letting it drop down her back and drape over her delicate shoulders.
Fuck me. I’m a goner. Christ, she’s beautiful. She comes closer, and before I can step back, she locks her lips to mine. My dick instantly twitches in my pants, but my brain knows I need to get out of here.
I pull away gently, and her hooded eyes dull slightly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you… It’s really not that, but I’d rather wait until you’re sober.”
“Right! You’re right.” She spins around, and I hover in case she loses her balance. “I have a great room, look at that view,” she says stumbling toward the lanai.
I grab her before she can reach the door. “No, you don’t. Careful now. It’s a long drop to the ground, and you’ve had too much to drink.”
She sways a little. “I think you’re right… I should probably go to bed.”
“Good idea.” I turn her, and she drifts toward the bed before sinking down. Fully clothed, she snuggles into the pillow, and I watch her for a minute, wondering if she’ll be okay on her own.
Taking a step toward the bed, I gently remove her shoes then brush the hair off her face. The soft, thick waves are spread across the pillow, and I wish I could run my fingers through them. I trace my finger over her cheekbone, and she doesn’t stir. She’s certainly relaxed now. This thought makes me chuckle, and the sound of my own laughter reminds me of where I am. I shouldn’t be here while she’s sleeping, I know this for sure, but I can’t help feeling a little concerned she’ll need help in the middle of the night. So, I need to make sure she has everything she needs…
Once I get her completely set up for a morning hangover, gathering together Gatorade, and aspirin from my room and a glass of water, I watch her sleep for another minute. It’s rough, not knowing anything about her, but I know she’s shrouded in sadness, which was obvious from the second I first laid eyes on her. How I recognize it, I’m not sure, but it probably has something to do with losing the love of my life.
Do I still walk around looking like that? I know it took a long time for me to stop thinking about Kayla every waking moment, but that doesn’t mean she’s not on my mind a lot of the time. I try to remember the good things instead of thinking about her being gone, and I hope that shines through. I don’t want to be the guy people feel sorry for. I don’t want to be the bummer in the room.
Not that Emily was a bummer. She was actually a lot of fun once she allowed herself to relax, but even then I could see the cloud behind her eyes. Some asshole must have really done a number on her.
And I want to help her. Make sure she has a good time. Forget all the crap that comes along with real life and push her to live in paradise for the week she’s here.
I sit at her small table and take a minute to scribble a short note on the hotel notepad. Once I’m happy with it, I lay it down next to her room key and leave her sleeping. If she’s lucky, she’ll wake up feeling fine, and we can hang out. If not, I’ll catch up with her later. Whatever happens, happens. At least, that’s my motto while in paradise.
And if I never see her again, I’ll know she had one hell of a great night while she was here.
Five
Emily
I wake up to darkness… but not total darkness. There’s enough light for me to see that I don’t know where I am. I turn slightly, but it’s hard because I’m tangled in the blankets. The bathroom door is ajar, and a sliver of light is shining through the crack. Why did I leave the… oh, right, vacation, hotel room, Maui.
I look down and realize I’m not tangled in blankets, I’m tangled in my dress. It’s ridden up and is bunching around my waist and neck. I sit up and yank the zipper down before shimmying out of it and tossing it on the floor. My head is spinning circles… or the room is spinning… I’m not sure which and I think I might be sick. Closing my eyes, I try to settle myself. Once the spinning has slowed some, I glance around and notice a glass of water on the nightstand. So glad I thought of that before I fell asleep. I don’t remember it, but I must have. That makes me think about the show and the Mai Tais. So many Mai Tais… How did I get to my room? I don’t actually remember.
I lift my phone and check the time: it’s just after four in the morning. Reaching over, I turn the lamp on and see an array of stuff on the nightstand. A packet of aspirin, the glass of water, my
phone, room key, and a very large Gatorade. How the hell did I get that?
That’s when I see a small note written on the hotel notepad.
Good morning, Emily.
I hope you’re feeling all right. I’ve left you some necessities in the hope it counteracts the inevitable headache. Drink lots of water, but sip it, don’t guzzle. When you’re sure you can keep the water down, then move on to the Gatorade, but drink it slowly too. Take the aspirin first, which should help too. If you need me, I’m just across the hall. Feel free to call my room.
If you happen to wake up feeling fine and looking for a great way to spend the day, give me a ring, I can show you the sights.
Yours truly,
Drew, Room 820
I snort at his assumption that I’ll be hungover. He obviously has no idea that I come from a long line of sturdy Scots who don’t get hangovers. Of course, I instantly regret this thought when the room starts spinning again. Oh, my goodness. I rest back against the pillows and think about what he wrote in his note.
The man put me to bed… with instructions. I’m not sure whether to be embarrassed or impressed. Any other man would have… Jesus, Emily! I drop my palm down on my forehead.
What the hell was I thinking, getting drunk like that with a stranger? He could have taken complete advantage of the situation. My stomach turns at the thought. I close my eyes, hoping it’ll pass. If there were a manual on how to find a decent guy, this would be in it. It would read, get sloppy drunk and if he puts you to bed with hangover provisions, he’s a keeper. I’m such an idiot, but at least I’m a lucky idiot.
Those Mai Tais are sneaky. I didn’t even realize I was getting drunk and I have no idea what happened after the Elvis impersonator. How many drinks did I have? Ugh. The two most dangerous words in the English language: open bar. I roll over and throw the blanket over me. I need more sleep, and after that, I’ll come up with a decent way to thank Drew for taking care of me.
The next time I look over at the clock, it’s nearly nine am. What is that in California time? Oh, who cares? I roll my eyes and sit up slowly, confused. I’m sleeping without any clothes, and I can see my dress bundled up on the floor. This makes me raise my brows and wonder… I did sleep alone, right? But then I glance around the room and my eyes land on the note from last night, from Drew. Right. The Mai Tais.
I remember now.
Getting out of bed, I find the resort-supplied robe hanging in the closet. It’s plush and soft, and the feel of it relaxes me instantly. I hug myself and look around the room. The door to my lanai is shut tight, and this instantly makes me feel like I’m closed in. I need fresh air. I’m a windows-open kind of person. Drew must have closed it last night before he left. I walk over and try to slide it, but it won’t budge. I stare at the glass, checking the locks and then trying to open it again. It will not move.
After a moment, my eyes catch on the little turning screw lock at the bottom, left-hand side of the door. He must have locked it so I wouldn’t stumble outside last night. The man’s thoughtfulness is endless, so much so that I’m almost annoyed. Did he think I wanted to take a leap off my balcony? Was I that much of a drag last night?
After getting the door unlocked, and sliding it open all the way, I grab my phone, and step out to sit in one of the deck chairs. The sky is cloudless and bright blue, with the sun shining brilliantly. No rainbows this morning, which makes me a little sad. Living in Northern California, I don’t see much weather. I wouldn’t mind a storm at least once this week. We get so little rain at home, I almost forget what it looks like.
This thought makes me wonder where Drew lives. He doesn’t seem Midwestern, and he’s way too relaxed to be from the New England area. Maybe he’s a Southerner. No, not likely since he doesn’t have an accent. Then I remember what Rebecca said about a vacation fling and realize that she’s right: I should keep it simple and just enjoy it without getting too attached. Is that possible?
I’m sure it’s easy for him––he probably has flings every time he’s in Hawaii.
And now I feel like that’s unfair since he was so kind to me last night. So, he’s a guy who has flings but only with sober women who can give consent. Nothing wrong with that. I laugh at the thought.
I pull my cell phone from the pocket of my robe and dial Bec.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” she says, answering on the first ring.
“Good morning. You sound mighty chipper for the early hour.”
She laughs at that. “Early? It’s a beautiful Tuesday afternoon in California. Sounds like someone slept in this morning.”
“Well… I am on vacation.”
“My, do you sound like you had some fun last night.”
“Last night I discovered Mai Tais, courtesy of my neighbor.”
“And how was the hot neighbor?” I can hear the innuendo in her voice, and I can’t help rolling my eyes in response.
“He’s quite polite. He put my drunk ass to bed and left me instructions on how to ward off a hangover.”
“Oh, yeah, left you in bed, huh?”
“Do not misunderstand, darling. He put me to bed. He didn’t stay.”
“What?”
“That’s right. He put me to bed, left aspirin, and a glass of water with a note.”
The line is silent but then she says, “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”
“Right? I’m feeling pretty speechless too.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask what state you were in that he had to put you to bed.”
“I don’t remember it, not really. Does that answer your question?” I chuckle. “I vaguely remember exiting the elevator with him and then entering my room… Oh crap.” I place a hand over my heated face and roll my eyes. “I kind of remember trying to kiss him.”
“Trying?”
“Yeah, the next thing I remember is waking up, fully dressed, with a note next to the aspirin and glass of water he left me. He also secured the slider to the lanai so I wouldn’t have an accident.”
“Emily, that is incredibly endearing. Any other guy would have taken advantage.”
“I know. Too bad he’s only going to be a vacation fling.”
“You don’t have to limit yourself. Get to know him, what have you got to lose?”
“And what if he, oh, lives in Dallas, or, oh, doesn’t want anything to do with my drunk ass?” I’m bobbing my head as I’m speaking. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You’re—we’re getting way ahead of ourselves. I’m not having a vacation fling. We haven’t even kissed.”
“It sounds like he’s worth getting to know.”
“I’m so embarrassed. I was stupid last night. I acted like some teenage girl who’d never had a drink before.”
“Um, excuse me, but you needed that. You haven’t done anything fun in years, Emily. Not months, but years! Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”
“I can have fun without getting shitfaced, I can also have fun without the companionship of a man.”
“I agree. You can have fun without a man, but you’ll have a hell of a lot more fun with one.”
The tone in her voice makes me laugh. “You’re such a harlot!”
“I know, and I’m trying really hard to be a bad influence on you.”
“You certainly are.” I laugh when I say it because it’s true, but I like it. I like that she speaks frankly. Everyone needs that one friend who’s not afraid to tell you how it really is.
“So, what’s on Mac’s list for you today?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I’m afraid to look. What’s going on there? Anything I need to worry about?”
“Of course not. Grant came by this morning to recommend a contractor for the office remodel. We’re supposed to meet with them when you’re back. I had Eddie add it to your calendar. But don’t worry about it. As a matter of fact, I’m hanging up now. Don’t give this place another thought for the rest of the week.”
“Okay, darling. I’ll talk to you later. Thank you.”
<
br /> “Buh-bye.”
As I set my phone down, it rings again. Maybe Bec forgot to tell me something. I lift it to see Grant’s number on the display. I met him last year when I was representing his architecture firm in contract negotiations with a large commercial developer. When the negotiations ended, he tried getting me to go out with him. I was frank with him and made it clear I wasn’t ready to date, but he never fully took no for an answer, as if I’m incapable of making that decision on my own. He acted as if I just needed convincing. Last week, I finally gave in and agreed to dinner—twice.
Boy, was that a mistake. Spending two evenings with him only proved my first impression was correct, and I can’t help but wonder if it was that second date that gave him the impression that I wanted more.
I’m not sure why I agreed to the second date, I guess I didn’t trust my own judgment the first time so I tried again to see if he’d be different the next time around. He wasn’t and he didn’t listen to anything I said on the second date either. That was a huge turn-off. It’s as if he has selective hearing. Or selective understanding. He only retains the information he wants to retain. I consider ignoring the call but then decide to answer. Maybe if I talk to him, he’ll stop trying so hard to reach me.
“Hello, Grant.”
“Emily, so good to hear your voice. I was getting worried.”
Worried. It’s not like we’ve ever even stayed in constant contact. I fight to hide my aggravation and say, “Sorry, I don’t have good service here.”
“Oh, that’s right, Rebecca mentioned you were out of town on business.”
“Yes.” I lift my eyes skyward and decide to be honest… or at least, semihonest. “I’m actually meeting with a client in Maui.”
