Now, however, his eyes were on Izzy, as they always seemed to be. She was laughing again at something she found amusing, and without even realizing it, Johnny had this overwhelming desire to be the one to make her laugh like that. In fact, Johnny had found himself wishing that he could do a lot of things with her. Besides the obvious, he wanted to take her on the ocean and explore it with her, he wanted to watch her sleep, he wanted to make her laugh, he wanted to make her moan, he wanted to touch her and memorize every inch of her. She was someone he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around, but it would appear as though he had no qualms about wrapping himself around her finger.
Well, this just wouldn’t do.
Johnny Clover could never—would never—be a one-woman man. He already had a couple of discussions about it with Bex, and he had had one with Brian as well. Despite their attempts at making love seem like the best feeling in the world, Johnny still felt as though he had the upper hand in this whole love game. No commitments. That was what was most important to him. Especially now! Who knew when Willow would pluck him out of this world and deposit him back into his original one? That woman was slightly deranged at best, and even if he did—could—feel something for Izzy, it definitely wasn’t going to last. Love was a feeling, an emotion, not a superpower. Not that he was in love, of course. It was just a hypothetical thought.
Candy had never had a chat with him about love, but then again, he had never fully discussed the matter with Izzy either. Not really, anyways. They were two women on opposite ends of the spectrum. He wanted to have sexual fun with one, and he wanted to make love to another. Furrowing his brow at such a notion, his index finger brushed across his bottom lip as he watched Izzy gracefully carry a tray of drinks to a table filled with a group of college kids. He didn’t ever remember making love to anyone. Maybe when he was young and naïve, and maybe when he actually did believe in the concept of love, but he had never engaged in the act recently. And he never had the desire to. Until now.
Okay, okay; not good.
The pirate tried to pull his eyes away from Izzy, but found that he could not. Today, she was in tight blue jeans that hugged the curves of her legs, her hips, and her rear, and over them were black knee-high boots with a red scarf tied around the left one. Her shirt had no sleeves, but gripped the woman’s frame, showing off a commendable pair of breasts and a flat stomach. Her golden hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, revealing her beautiful face. She never really wore her hair up except when she was at work, but he found that he liked looking at it very much. It was something unlike anything he had ever seen before. As such, he wanted nothing more than to trace it with his fingertips, to watch it for her reactions as he pleased her, and to memorize every curve, every freckle, every inch of it.
Johnny bit his lip, but a frustrated groan escaped from him nonetheless. He needed sex; meaningless, carefree, loveless sex. He needed to reacquaint himself with the activity. Going without sex for a while had horrible consequences, such as thinking odd, romantic thoughts about someone who he didn’t feel romantic about. Yes, maybe if he had sex with somebody else, he might be able to forget her, what he couldn’t have.
That’s not true, a stubborn voice muttered in his head. You could have her if you wanted. You just don’t want her.
Oh, but he did. He was sexually attracted to Izzy, and there were moments when he would sit at her dining table and watch her do homework, silently losing himself in numerous fantasies that all had one thing in common: she was in them. This troubled him to no end because he had never fantasized about a woman before. Any woman he wanted to have sex with he just had sex with. There was really no need to fantasize about it. Izzy was a whole other matter. He couldn’t just walk up to her and suggest she slip on the lingerie he had first seen her in, though he found he wanted nothing more. She was his friend, one of the first ones he had, and he was afraid that any physical activity concerning the two of them might ruin said friendship. He could admit that she was his friend, and he could admit that he enjoyed the benefits of having her as such. He didn’t want to lose her over something meaningless.
Yes, but making love is not meaningless, another voice whispered. If you love her, of course.
“I do not love her,” he all but growled, narrowing his eyes in said woman’s direction, as though it was her fault he was so troubled.
“Ah,” a patron at the bar said after hearing him. “Woman problems?” Johnny was about to reply in the negative when the man’s next statements made him pause. “You know what I always do when I’ve got somebody on my mind I don’t want there? I sleep with another woman, you know, to forget. It doesn’t work long-term or anything, but at least it takes my mind off her, if only for a second.”
Johnny didn’t reply to the man’s statement, and the man was too drunk to care. However, the words the man had told the pirate were quite brilliant, if a little hard to comprehend. He had been craving sexual release for quite some time now, and it would seem that the more he went without it, the more his craving for Izzy herself seemed to multiply. It baffled him how simple the answer was, but then again, Johnny was used to complex solutions. Of course! Sleep with somebody else. Maybe if he found someone to aid him physically, he would forget all about the focus of his desires and consider her as just a friend from now on. Yes. He would do it. Tonight.
Once the bar closed that night, and Brian headed in the back, Johnny propositioned Candy. She, of course, agreed, as he had expected she would, and the two cleaned up the bar as quickly as they could in order to get down to business. Johnny forced his eyes to focus on his task at hand, but every once in a while, he would watch the swaying blonde beauty as she cleaned the surfaces of the tables. Every time he did, however, an unexplainable feeling of his chest constricting quite painfully overtook him until he looked away.
Candy led him into the closet when things were finished, assuming they had a good fifteen minutes before anyone would notice they were gone. The whole conversation about sexual diseases frightened Johnny into telling Candy he had no form of protection, and though Candy didn’t seem to mind, Johnny insisted they couldn’t actually engage in sexual behavior until he got one. Instead, the two opted for a very heated make-out session.
Upon first kissing her, the pirate scrunched his nose a bit. She tasted like she recently smoked one of her cigarettes and idly wondered if that was what he tasted like after smoking his tobacco. It definitely did not taste good. Pushing aside his disgust, he tried to clear his mind and focus. Focus! Why was it so hard for him to focus? He really needed to get laid. Maybe Bex could get him some condoms….
After a while, Johnny felt himself relax and even respond to Candy’s wandering hands. Ah, he had been missing this. His hand outlined her body and came to rest on her hips before making their way back up again. And boy, did she know what to do with that tongue…
At that moment, the door swung open, causing both people to spring apart. When Johnny’s eyes rested on Izzy, his chest constricted once again, but this time, to a more painful degree. She all but dropped the cleaning supplies she had finished with, and she swallowed. Johnny could easily tell that she was hurt; it was so evident in her eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but Izzy didn’t see him, and closed the door. Candy smirked at this, and went to Johnny in order to continue what had been interrupted, but he was already reaching for the door.
Out of all the things he wanted to do to Izzy, hurt her was not one of them.
It was then that he realized what he was feeling. Guilt. He was feeling guilt. And he didn’t know why.
Once he opened the door and stepped outside, his eyes sought out Izzy, but it would appear that she was already gone.
16
Izzy had to get out of there. She had finished with what she was required to do anyways; it wasn’t like she would be ditching anybody…. She just had to leave. Her chest constricted together painfully, and she suddenly couldn’t breathe as well. The young woman needed air, oxygen, and she slipped
out the back and into the cold, bitter night. She let a painful sigh slip out of her nose and looked around for somewhere to sit.
Why was she feeling this way? So what if Johnny and Candy were making out in the cleaning supply closet? That was their business, not hers. Johnny was a grown man. He could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with whoever he wanted. She wasn’t his mother, his sister, or even his girlfriend. And she didn’t want to be, right?
Let’s face it: why would she knowingly fall in love with somebody who didn’t believe in love? That was practically suicide, wasn’t it? She had already gotten hurt with Zach nearly a month ago. Could somebody really move on from a three-year relationship so quickly? Was Johnny a rebound? Izzy couldn’t lie to herself. She knew she felt something for the man. She wasn’t exactly sure if she loved him or merely liked him, and she wasn’t exactly sure if it was because he was a pirate, if it was because he resembled Johnny Depp, or something completely different.
But she felt something for him.
Just because you feel something for him doesn’t mean he feels something for you, a voice in her head told her. It was harsh, but it was true. If Johnny Clover’s personality resembled Jack Sparrow’s only slightly, it was highly doubtful the pirate was intent on settling down. And she couldn’t get involved with someone who wouldn’t commit to her. There were times when she wished that she was the type of girl where she could enjoy the benefits of being in a relationship without actually being in a relationship, but she wasn’t and that made things harder for her.
Izzy looked around into the darkness as she ran her fingers through her hair. Besides the moon, lampposts with dull lighting lit up the pathway to her home, and she started walking from the restaurant in hopes to avoid any sort of confrontation. A sneer littered her face, shaking her head at such a thought. Yeah, like he would be running after her. Why would he be doing that anyways? It wasn’t as though he returned her feelings. If anything, Johnny was probably right where Izzy had found him—making out with Candy in the closet.
Shoving her hands into her pockets, Izzy decided to head home. As she walked, she focused on the waves rolling into the shore and crashing on the sand. She tilted her head to the side and glanced over at it, a small smile touching her face as she did so. God, she loved the sea. She loved the sound, the feel, the sight, even the smell. Maybe not the taste. But she loved the beautiful body of water, and wished at times that she had the opportunity to explore it. That was why she truly believed she was a pirate in a past life—had to be.
“I’ll read your fortune?”
Izzy stopped in her tracks at the voice and glanced over to her left. Standing there was a woman, with long, flowing red hair and smooth alabaster skin. Her body was lithe, her stature was tall, and she was wearing no shoes on her feet. Her clothes looked to be handmade, but they were actually pretty nice, coming in unique shades of different colors. Her tone had an accent that Izzy couldn’t quite place, but it was melodious and almost hypnotizing. She had no Tarot cards on her, no crystal ball. The woman was standing there by herself, underneath one of the lights provided by the lamppost. She looked friendly enough, but then again, it was three in the morning. What if the woman tried to lure Izzy towards her so she could rob her?
In Balboa? a disbelieving voice asked.
“It could happen,” Izzy muttered under her breath. She then turned back to the woman with the knowing blue eyes, who was regarding the young woman patiently. “Um…no thanks. I’ve actually gotta get home.”
“Please Isabelle,” the psychic said in her usual soft tone, taking a step towards Izzy. “I know what troubles you. It will only take a moment.”
Izzy felt every hair on her skin stand up at the mention of her name. How did this woman know her name? Instead of answering, she watched the woman. The psychic smiled, as though she knew what was going on in Izzy’s mind, and took another step forward. Her sharp lips curled up and deepened, and she reached out her arm and flexed her fingers. Izzy glanced down at the offered hand and she hesitated. What if this woman was a quack? What if someone had told her Izzy’s name? What if this was some big joke?
“I assure you, Isabelle,” the woman said, meeting the young woman’s skeptical gaze, “that this is no joke.” She paused a moment before nodding once. “Now, please.”
She just read her mind. How could—Wait, no, she didn’t want to appear to be a fool in her mind. Instead, she swallowed and finally placed her hand in the psychic’s.
“Isabelle, much is troubling you,” the psychic began, “but nothing more than a man, a man not of this world. I feel as though you’ve recently experienced a parting of ways with somebody you trusted, somebody you cared about.” She tilted her head, letting the ringlets of red drape around her frame. “I wish to express to you that all is not lost. Everything happens for a reason, which I am sure you know.”
Izzy said nothing, but she was quite fascinated by how accurate this woman was. So much so that Izzy actually felt…she wasn’t sure if afraid was the correct word. Maybe awed or even slightly overwhelmed. “I just don’t get it!” she exclaimed, all of her pent-up frustration at Johnny and Candy coming out. She didn’t mean to take anything out on this psychic, but she didn’t know what else to do. The one thing that consistently stayed on her mind for the past three and a half weeks was, why had Johnny come to her? Why not anybody else?
The psychic’s lips curled up, easily reading Izzy’s frustration and understanding why she felt that way. “You are not yet supposed to,” she told the young woman, her accent making her predictions that much more ominous. “But in due time, you will find out.” She paused here and thought a long moment as her blue eyes took in Izzy’s palm, intricately going over every line, every mount her hand had to offer. “I assume you are frustrated with the pirate currently in your life, hmm?” she asked, though it was obvious the psychic already knew. “But what you think you are frustrated with does not match up to what you are actually frustrated with.”
“I…I don’t understand,” Izzy mumbled. She didn’t like the fact that this woman seemed to know more about her feelings than she did.
“You think you are frustrated,” the psychic began, “because you are not sure why, out of all the people in this world, Johnny Clover was sent to you. Three and a half weeks later and you still do not understand. But Isabelle, you are not yet supposed to understand that. Everything will reveal itself to you when it is appropriate to do so. The real reason you are frustrated, my dear, is because you feel something for Johnny Clover you do not understand. You know that it is highly improbable for the pirate to feel something for you in return, and so your frustration simply escalates. But I am here to tell you that Johnny Clover needs you more than he realizes. There is a reason why he was sent to you and no one else, and it has to do with the fact that you can provide him with something nobody else can.”
“And what’s that, exactly?” Izzy asked, furrowing her brow as flashes of Johnny and Candy began to decorate her mind. “He seems to be provided for, from what I could tell.”
Another knowing smile littered the psychic’s striking face. “Well, at this moment, you are providing him with a good dose of guilt,” she told the woman.
Izzy looked at the woman with disbelief clearly etched out onto her features. “Right,” she said, slipping her hand out of the woman’s. “Well, I should get going. It’s cold, it’s late, and I’m really tired.”
“If I may offer you one point of advice, Isabelle,” the psychic called, stopping the retreating woman once again. Izzy glanced over her shoulder and looked at the psychic expectantly. “Do not go home tonight. If you have a friend, stay with her.” The woman’s eyes darkened almost to a midnight color. “Make him sweat it out.”
Izzy glanced in front of her, staring into the black, starless sky. She wasn’t sure if Johnny would be “sweating it out,” as the psychic had said. When she turned around to thank the psychic, the woman was gone. Izzy’s hair stood up once again, and s
he gulped before deciding to follow the psychic’s advice.
To Bex’s it was.
17
Candy’s fingers curled around Johnny’s wrist, preventing him from opening the door and going after Izzy. Johnny stopped short, trying to regain composure with a deep sigh, before turning around and eyeing the young woman with an unreadable stare. Though the room was dark for the most part, Candy could easily see the frustration and even the anger packed behind those eyes of his, and felt herself let go of him. He didn’t have to open his mouth to say anything; his eyes did that for him. She had never seen him look this upset before, and she didn’t want to be the person he took his anger out on. Though she longed to call him back because she had wanted some alone time with the mysterious man from England, she pressed her lips together so they molded into a thin line. Johnny clenched his jaw, causing it to pop slightly, before nodding his thanks once and heading out the door.
Now, where could Izzy be? His eyes glanced at the floor of the bar, but found that besides Zach putting the chairs on the tables as he usually did, no one else was out there. The pirate began searching through the bathroom, going into both sets of bathrooms, and even asking Brian if he knew where she might be.
“If Izzy finishes early, I let her go,” Brian had explained to him.
So it was likely that she wasn’t even there anymore.
Johnny pushed out the back door, and once his eyes got used to the darkness, he tried to find her moving silhouette retreating back to her nearby apartment. His brows were pushed up and his lips were pushed out into a frown. He turned around so he was facing the opposite direction, but again, he found no luck in trying to find her. He reached in his trench coat pocket and slipped out one of his last rolls of tobacco. The man had been trying to ration them when he realized he was running low, especially since cigarettes here could be quite expensive and didn’t taste as good. He stuck the dark brown stick into his mouth and lit a match, touching the flame to the end of the roll. Immediately, he inhaled the toxins, feeling his tense body start to relax.
To Believe a Buccaneer: A Scandalous Adventure at Seas Series Page 8
