The needle and spoon tied together with the rubber strap brush against the tips of my fingers. They are right at my grasp and can be in my hand if I only extend my digits. Sweat drips down my forehead and beads at the base of my back. All my aggravation, vexation, every emotion brewing in my soul can be suppressed in a matter of minutes. If only I can reach a little further, I can drown in the high, forgetting every feeling. If only…
Thirteen
Piper
“Would you stop moving?” Fletcher orders.
“It hurts,” I whine.
I flinch again when he attempts to rub aloe vera over the sunburn on my skin. His shoulders sink with an exhale of breath before he tries again. “If you hadn’t spent all day in the water with no sunscreen on, you wouldn’t be as red as a crawfish. So be still.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out and keep still so Fletcher can massage the green goop over my back. He trails the gel down to my tailbone, his fingers slipping under the band of my bathing suit. “Watch where you put your hands, buddy,” I say.
Fletcher chuckles awkwardly. “Don’t worry, Piper. I won’t touch you unless you want me to.” His hands slide down the back of my legs, rubbing in circular motions.
“I don’t, just so we are clear,” I mumble around the pillow my face is buried in.
“Roll over.”
I carefully roll onto my back and catch Fletcher’s wrist as he’s about to gel my stomach. “I can take over, thanks.”
He rolls his eyes and stands, wiping his hands off on a towel in the kitchen. “I was thinking we could go out tonight, grab some dinner.”
After adding a coat of aloe over my chest, stomach, and arms, I take the towel from Fletcher and clean off my hands. As much as I’d like to not do things with Fletcher, there is no point sitting around the bungalow. Fiji is begging me to explore, so who am I to ignore its plea? And having to have Fletcher accompany me, well, I can suck it up. Just for this week.
“Fine,” I agree.
Fletcher’s face lights up with a smile. “Great. I know just the place. Go get ready, we’ll leave in fifteen.”
My bathing suit is changed out for a long loose dress. It’s airy and flows when I walk, so the cotton material doesn’t press against my hot skin. I slip my feet into flip-flops, but the strap digs into the sunburn on the tops of my feet. I find a pair of sandals that allow the tops of my feet to be exposed and opt to wear those instead. My hair is a dried, stringy mess from the salt water, so I attempt a quick run through with my brush but end up putting it in a topknot on the top of my head.
Fletcher is waiting for me in the kitchen, sipping on a baller of whiskey. He sees me and gulps back the last drop. His mouth grimaces against the bitterness of the alcohol then curves up into a grin. “You look beautiful.”
“Mmhmm. I look like a candied apple,” I say sarcastically.
He walks over to me and takes my hand. My first reaction is to pull away, but I don’t. “You look like a radiant sunset at dusk.”
“My hair matches my skin, Fletcher. There is nothing radiant about that.”
Fletcher laughs and places a kiss on my temple. “You’re glowing is all.”
It’s my turn to laugh. Glowing isn’t quite the word I would use, but I’ll go with it. “I’m starving,” I say matter-of-factly. “Can we go?”
“Of course.”
We walk along the beach; each step the sand builds under the strap of my sandals and rubs against my sensitive skin until I give up and take them off. I let Fletcher hold them when he offers. He places them under the table when we sit down. Our table is at the brink of the lanai; the only thing stopping us from falling to the rocks below is a wooden rail lining the restaurant. I inhale the air around me as I pick up the menu. It’s a smell I can never get enough of. I find comfort in the aroma of drying seaweed, salt, and fish. The breeze whips off the water, making my skin sting.
Everything on the menu looks divine, but my mouth waters for the Ika Vakalolo. Fletcher orders us passion cocktails and we sip on the delicious drinks while we wait. I can feel Fletcher’s eyes on me, but I keep my focus out across the ocean. The sky is black, sprinkled with tiny flecks of sparkling stars. The waves crash along the shore and its spray hits the foundation below us, spritzing my legs with water from time to time. My surroundings put me in a zone, a world all my own, where all that exists is me and the sea. Until Fletcher speaks and interrupts my moment of zen.
“You are so beautiful,” he says, emphasizing the word.
I glance over at him, his stare soaking into my pores. Intense and longing.
“Thanks.” I look back toward the water. Fletcher reaches across the table and takes my hands in his. I wish I’d put them in my lap. “Fletcher.” I say his name with warning.
He doesn’t let go. His face droops with a sadness I have never seen. A genuine look of emotion. “I have never stopped loving you, Piper. Somewhere we lost connection, but I have never stopped. I love you just as much as the day we first met.”
I snort on a laugh, but stop immediately when I watch Fletcher’s face deflate. He’s pouring his heart out and I dismiss him. I am a bitch.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
Our hands slip apart as Fletcher leans back in his seat. “No, don’t apologize. You know the one thing I have always respected and loved about you was your sharp tongue. You don’t hold back. You say what you mean, and you mean what you say. And your face is equally as expressive. There are no games with you. You’re a straight shooter, Piper.”
I shrug my shoulders and nod, a gesture that says, “I am who I am.”
“You don’t let me get away with shit,” Fletcher continues. “So many people do and say what they think I want them to. That’s not you. I need that. I need you.”
“You don’t need me.”
He sits straighter. “Yes, I do. When you walked out, I was pissed. Thought, go ahead and leave, I don’t care. I don’t need you, don’t need the added drama or the bullshit we’ve been living. I was actually relieved.”
I raise my brow at the direction his rant is going and start to open my mouth, but he holds a hand up to stop me.
“But the first night you were gone, I have never felt so alone. There was a hollowness, a void. So, I went into the office and surrounded myself with people, all the people. I dove into the campaign shit and kept myself busy, and you know what?”
I shake my head.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how all of this can be gone tomorrow, and I would be fine with that. But I’m not fine being without you. I’m not sure why it took me so long to realize how much I’ve fucked up. I did this. I made you leave. I caused you pain. Pain I promised to never bring you but did. I’ll never forgive myself. I’m truly sorry, Piper. I know where you stand. I know there is no us, but I just want you to know, need you to know, I’m so very sorry.”
Under the light of the moon, I see the soft, caring man I once knew. The gentle man I fell in love with. I never thought I would see him again, and yet he’s sitting across from me dabbing the corners of his eyes with his napkin. And in this moment, I believe him.
I have waited what seems a lifetime for these words. If only they came sooner, when it mattered. When I cared.
“Thank you.” I mean it when I say it. It means a lot to hear him share his feelings with me. Does it change anything? No.
He assesses me, waiting for more. For what I don’t know. Forgiveness, maybe. An, “I love you too and want us to work this out,” perhaps. He doesn’t get either response. Our food comes at just the right time and fills the awkward silence that hangs over our table.
Each bite evokes a moan. The sweetness of the coconut and the burst of sour from the lemon with the delicate flake of the fish is heaven in my mouth. The flavors meld together on my tongue, causing my eyes to roll back in my head. “Dear Lord Almighty. Praise Jesus. Can I get an amen?” I bounce with happiness in my seat.
Fletcher laughs. �
�Amen and a hallelujah.” He raises his glass and I clink mine to his for a toast.
I stab my fork into a piece of Fletcher’s snapper and shove it in my mouth without asking. The heat from the garlic and chili compliment the peppery, sweet ginger. The taste of the wine and a hint of orange follows as I swallow. My eyes grow wide along with my smile. “Wow.”
Fletcher nods. “I know, right? It’s the most amazing thing I have ever tried.”
“Hands down,” I agree.
We finish off dinner with a passion fruit sponge. It’s the perfect amount of sweetness to round out the dance inside our mouths. And after Fletcher pays, we walk back to the bungalow in silence. Before reaching the dock, Fletcher takes my hand.
I let him.
Fourteen
Piper
“Wake up, little miss sunshine,” I hear Fletcher say.
When I open my eyes and rub them clear, I’m startled by Fletcher’s face being near to mine. “Jesus,” I mutter, and roll away from him. He slaps my ass, making me jolt and flop back toward him. “You’re close to losing a hand, Mr. Donovan.”
Fletcher says, “Sorry,” but doesn’t move off the bed.
“What do you want?” I groan, pulling the pillow over my head.
He tugs at the pillow. “I want you to get up.”
I hold it tighter over my face. “No!”
“Come on, sleepy head, get up. We have a whole island to explore. There are temples to visit, markets to shop at, and kayaks to take down a river. Let’s go.”
I squirm when Fletcher tickles my side, and he pulls the pillow from my face when I start to giggle. “Fine! I’m up,” I say, kicking the covers off my legs. Before I leap off the bed, I playfully smack Fletcher in the arm then run into the bathroom, yelling, “You’re close to losing both your hands, Mr. Donovan.”
“I’ll take my chances.” Fletcher laughs.
I find a backpack mixed in with my things, so I pack a change of clothes and extra shoes, and of course some sunscreen. With the things Fletcher listed off, I can never be too prepared. My hair is in a loose pony with a baseball cap snug on my head; now all I need are my sunglasses.
As if Fletcher can read my mind, he’s waiting by the front door of the bungalow with my sunglasses in hand. He hands them to me and takes my backpack. “You okay with shopping at the markets first then checking out the temples?”
“Sure.”
We spend longer at the markets than anticipated. I wanted to look at every table and taste every bit of food they were willing to let me try. Each booth had something unique to offer. Homemade goods, clothes, fresh fruits and vegetables, and different types of seafood. The locals are friendly and eager to share their stories. I’m in awe of everyone and everything.
The rental car is full of bags. Every item I said I loved Fletcher bought for me. I tried to refuse his offers, but he insisted, and since I don’t have my purse, who am I to argue? Besides, Fletcher removed all my means to buy for myself, so it’s not like I’m taking advantage of the situation. He’s left me no other choice.
The temples are beautiful, colorful and ornate. They stand tall and bold and there is a palpable solace that settles deep in my bones when we walk through them. The history, the prayers. I’m at peace. Even sharing this experience with Fletcher isn’t horrible. I mean, I would much rather be here with someone else, someone like Oliver, but I won’t complain. I’m here.
Fletcher finds an alcove off the side of the road and pulls off. “I think it’s time for a picnic.”
I ate so many samples at the markets I’m not all that hungry, but when I see the waterfall cascading off a cliff, I don’t balk at stopping. I follow Fletcher down the trail leading to a grassy patch near the edge of a cliff. He lays out a blanket and pulls food from a bag he brought from the car. Cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches cut into small squares, a container of mixed fruit, and chocolate chip cookies wrapped in plastic wrap. I have no idea where he got the food from, but I don’t care. The sight of it makes my mouth water.
Fletcher hands me a bottled water. “Thank you.”
“Bon appétit,” he mutters around a bite of sandwich.
I pinch a cube of cantaloupe between my fingers and pop it into my mouth, following it up with a bite of the sandwich, then washing it all down with a sip of water. I eat more than my stomach can hold, not letting that stop me from devouring my portion of the cookies.
Fletcher starts to pack up the trash. “Want to go for a hike?”
Looking around, I don’t see where we can hike. Unless his idea of hiking is pushing me over the cliff, which in that case, I’ll kindly decline.
“There’s some stairs.” He points behind me. “Over there.”
I glance over my shoulder, then stand to get a better look. Sure enough, there are stairs. What they lead to is questionable, but I wipe off the bottom of my shorts and shrug. “Why the hell not?”
Fletcher dumps the trash into a bin as we walk toward the stairs. I wave him to go first. If these steps fall off into the pit of whatever depths are below, I’m making sure he goes before me. I’m not too far off from my assumption. The wooden staircase carries on for ten feet to where it is replaced with a steep trail of dirt and loose rock leading down to pools of water. Boulders of sharp rock encase the pools, breaking the waves that crash into them. It looks sketchy, dangerous. But I follow because it’s too beautiful not to.
Every step is strategically placed so as to not slip to my death down the hill. When Fletcher offers his hand, I take it, and allow him to ease me down the slopes. When we hit a drop-off, I slide off on my bottom and let Fletcher lift me from the waist to help me to my feet. It’s a decent hike. I’m sweating and breathing hard when we hit the bottom. But the bottom is more breathtaking than the sights from up above.
I spin in a circle, taking it all in. Breathing in the salted air, I don’t dare close my eyes. To miss a single piece of its beauty would be a waste of life. The trek we made down the hill is not lost on me. Looking back up to the way we came is mind-blowing. How we made it down without a broken bone or at least a scrape is beyond my comprehension. Wondering how we are going to get back up doesn’t weigh heavy on my mind one bit when I see the waterfall. The rush of the water down the rocks, splashing to its own pool at the bottom, is a sight to be held in memory forever. For a brief pause, I close my eyes to listen to the echo of the white-noise. It’s loud, and I have to yell for Fletcher to hear me. “It’s like nothing I have ever seen!”
His smile is wide across his face, causing wrinkles to peek out from around the corners of his eyes. He nods. “Want to get a closer look?”
I scrunch up my face and shrug. A reaction that says, “How can we when there is no way to get closer?” But then I look in the direction Fletcher’s finger is pointing and see a path of rocks, and nod my head. We didn’t defy death for nothing. I motion for him to walk and follow him closely.
The rocks are slippery, wet and coated with algae. I lose my footing a couple times and use Fletcher’s shirt to wrap around my fist to keep me from falling. It makes him unstable, but he allows me to stretch his shirt. When he gets to a wider part in the path, he turns to the side and takes my hand so we can shuffle along the rocks with our backs against the hillside.
Water pelts our faces, making us laugh, and in minutes, our clothes are drenched. I hold my palms out under the waterfall, watching my hands disappear beneath the whitecaps. I’m lost in the moment, overwhelmed by where I’m at, what I’m doing, and the magnificence surrounding me. I’m in awe.
His hair is matted to the side of his face. When he swipes a hand over his head to slick back his hair, the way his smile brightens makes my knees give out. I lose my footing and slip on the rock, but Oliver catches me before the waterfall can suck me in. He pulls me into his arms and holds me tight. My shoulders ease and my cheek falls to his chest. I close my eyes and inhale his scent. It’s familiar. Heavenly. Cedarwood and pine with a hint of spice and a touch of sweat. Sweat
has never smelled sweeter.
Wait. Oliver is smooth. Bare. And smells of citrus and mint.
My head snaps up, eyes focusing. Confusion setting in.
Fletcher. I’m in Fiji with Fletcher, and he’s hugging me. My sight, my mind, they are playing a cruel joke, a mirage of illusions. I stand straighter and nod then motion to Fletcher I’m ready to walk back.
If I don’t acknowledge what just happened, it didn’t happen. Right? I’m going with it because the last thing I want to do is make Fletcher think there is a chance for us to reconnect on a romantic level. “Wanna go for a swim?” I shout over the waterfall, pointing to the pools.
Fletcher throws two thumbs up and takes his shirt off, exposing the splay of hair over his pecs and trailing down his toned abs. Many times, my fingers found comfort sliding through the wiry strands of hair. The roughness on my palms when my hand rubbed his chest was calming. Not anymore. All I think about now when I look at Fletcher’s chest is…nothing.
To my horror, he climbs up the rocks, and with a bellowing howl, he jumps into the center of the pool. Every thought of Fletcher’s body is washed away with the splash of water to my face. Water drips from the bill of my hat and I wipe my eyes. “For real?”
Fletcher spits water from his mouth. “C’mon, Piper, try it. It’s fun.”
“Nah, I’m good.” I start to dip a toe into the pool and curl my foot back up like a flamingo. “Shit that’s cold.”
“I’m telling you.” Fletcher points to the top of the rocks. “Jump from there. The shock only lasts a second. Come on, live a little.”
Peer pressure is a bitch, and I cave. YOLO, right? Climbing the rocks, I stand tall at the top. The water is as clear as glass. So crisp I can see the whites of Fletcher’s toenails. I countdown from three, but the idea of crashing to my death spooks me and I startle backwards, rubbing at my chest, over my pounding heart.
Carnival Page 8
