Wet: Part 1
Page 22
“I was not!”
“Oh, yes, you were. You were all about getting out of there—in a jealous huff.”
“No, I wasn’t. I just didn’t want to be in your way.”
“You thought I’d forgotten about you.”
“I didn’t want to stick around and watch you and Kelly going at it right there at the ice cream parlor. It wasn’t jealousy. I’m just not into porn—and I’ve seen enough of it—with you, on Frock, in bathrooms . . . I just wanted to get out of your way so you could do what you wanted to, instead of—”
“See? You’re always thinking about me. You’re nice to me all the fuc . . . all the time! No matter how much I don’t deserve it, and I never do. You hugged me on the street. You gave me your freakin’ peanut butter for crying out loud! Don’t try to deny you didn’t have a hard-on for that peanut butter, and yet, you gave it to me. But—”
“I thought we were friends. You’re the one who said we should be friends.”
“Damn it, Rhees, you can’t be that stupid! A guy can’t be friends with a pretty girl. It’s not possible. Either he’s already fucked her, or he wants to.” His anger had escalated.
That made her angry too—or hurt, he couldn’t tell. She pulled her feet up onto the chair and put her arms around her knees like she wanted to make herself small, give herself a place to hide. He shook his head and tried to tone himself down.
“You get mad at me, like you see through my shit, and I think, ‘This is it. She really is too smart for me.’ But then you reel me right back in. You’re angry one minute, but the next, you’re all, ‘It’s okay, Paul, you can’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who should be sorry, Paul.’ I never hide what an ass I am, but girls always put up with my shit anyway—just like you. If you don’t want me, why do you put up with my fucking shit? What is your game?”
Rhees looked sick. The color drained from her face and he could see her trembling.
“I stink at games. Why would I—I don’t even know how to play games.”
He rattled his head. His eyebrows raised.
“The signals can’t be mixed. I don’t understand how it isn’t completely clear. I do not want to have sex!” She put her head down, resting it on her arms, and he couldn’t see her face anymore. He heard her muffled words before he heard the sobs. “I didn’t know I was sending mixed signals. I’m sorry.”
He tossed his head back again. “Damn it. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry!” His anger felt thick enough to cut.
“You said we could be friends,” she blubbered. “You said it—and I—I’m kind of in short supply of those right now.” She got it out, and then broke into convulsive sobs.
“Oh God.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He got up and went inside to get two more beers, popping the lids off with the opener attached to the counter. When he returned, she still sat, all closed off, in her tight little ball.
A safe place to hide, he thought. At least she wasn’t crying anymore.
He sat down and held out a beer to her while he took a drink of his own. “Maybe this will help.”
She shook her head. “I still feel the wine.”
“All the better.” He pushed the bottle toward her again, urging her to take it. She loosed the grip on herself just enough to grab it, and downed several gulps.
“You confuse me, Rhees. It’s so out of my realm of understanding. Why are you denying yourself, here and now, for something you admit may never happen?”
“I’m being faithful. I don’t want to cheat on my husband.”
“But you’re nawt married!” His voice soared louder and several octaves higher. He couldn’t begin to comprehend her frame of mind, and it frustrated him to no end.
“I know! But maybe I will be, and if I find that man who will love me enough to want to be with me for the rest of his life, then . . . it’s important for me to save that for him.”
Paul didn’t say anything for a while. They each sucked on their beer.
“Can I ask a favor?” he finally asked. He’d calmed down. She nodded. “Too many women say they’re twenty-nine for several years. Promise me you won’t wait to invite me to the party beyond your second twenty-ninth birthday.” He held a serious face until she laughed, but then he couldn’t help his own.
They changed the subject and talked for a while, getting to know each other better. He told her about the diving he’d done in other parts of the world. She told him about all the national parks in Utah. Thanks to her active, outdoorsy father, she’d visited most of them.
Several bottles of beer later and the stories they told grew more personal. Paul felt close to her, and he surprised himself, telling her things he’d never told anyone, but his mind circled back to his uncontrollable obsession.
“How did you get to be twenty-four without ever seeing a penis?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, sex is everywhere. You’ve never watched a movie?”
“We didn’t have a television in our home. My dad said it made people docile. My group of friends . . . after I found a group of friends again, were pretty uber-religious. R-rated movies were taboo. PG-13 movies were frowned upon, which meant we never watched anything that wasn’t just PG, or maybe a mild PG-13 if we were feeling really wild. I only hung out with them, maybe once a month . . . less, but when I did hang out with them, we cooked together or played video games—actually, I watched while the others played. If we did watch a movie, it was always some cartoon or an old classic.”
“That is just so foreign to me.”
“It’s not strange to me.” She glanced down, embarrassed.
“Sex ed? They don’t do that in Utah?”
She blushed and looked away. She closed her eyes before starting the confession. “In fifth grade, they have what they call a Maturation program. I—I guess I—the teachers were concerned about how I reacted to the movie. My mom got me excused from all the sex education units in school after that. It wasn’t just me. Every year, there were anywhere from five to a dozen of us, holding out in the library while everyone else learned all about it.”
Paul stared at her, bewildered. “What if you marry some pud, and since you won’t be taking him for a test drive, what if he doesn’t, you know . . . do it for you?”
She giggled. “I’m not going to marry some pud! I’m not even sure what that is, but it doesn’t sound like the kind of guy I’d find attractive.”
Paul sat forward, suddenly more excited . . . interested to know what she did find attractive in a man.
“That’s something else I’d like to explore sometime, but right now—okay, so you marry some attractive guy, but since you didn’t sleep with him first, you realize he stinks at fu . . . sex . . .” He didn’t know why he suddenly felt like he should tone down his language, but he caught himself. “But you’re married—you’re stuck with him.”
She just stared.
“What’s wrong? I’m just curious.”
She shrugged her shoulders and looked away, embarrassed. “I don’t understand the question. You said yourself, it’s just . . . mechanics. How could it stink?”
He laughed. “Like when you pleasure yourself. It’s better some times, more than others, depending on who or what you fantasize about.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I do not pleasure myself!”
His mouth dropped open. He jumped up and started pacing the length of the porch and back. “No way! Are you kidding me?” He stopped and crouched down next to her chair, looking up at her earnestly. “There. Is. No. Fucking. Way!”
“I don’t,” she whispered, and it set him off ranting again. She stared at the floor until he finally calmed down enough to notice her reaction.
She’s embarrassed! She’s embarrassed about being, what? . . . Stupid? Naïve? Pure!
He sat back down, across from her, and watched her wringing her hands. He was in awe of her, once again, more than ever.
“You’ve never had an orgasm?” he asked, his voice soft and caring, but there was sympathy in his eyes when she didn’t answer. He put his fingers tenderly around the back of her neck and affectionately caressed her cheek with his thumb.
“Aw, Rhees.” He exhaled slowly. “You don’t even know what you’re missing.” She continued to stare at her hands. “Look at me.”
She lifted her eyes.
“I could show you . . .” He couldn’t believe how nervous she made him. Am I fucking twelve? Is this the way it was supposed to be, but never was?
“I could show you,” he whispered again. “I want to show you.”
Rhees sat so confounded, she couldn’t answer him. She didn’t understand how he could even ask.
“I know a thing or two about this,” he reassured giddily. “I can show you, and once you see—I promise, you’ll never regret not saving yourself for some pud that doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
“I can’t! Have you not listened to a word I’ve said?” She stared at him incredulously.
“I’ve heard every word, but listening and understanding—I just don’t. Rhees. I don’t know why you want to deny yourself. I wish . . .” The look in his eyes . . . he was begging. He held her face in both hands and gazed sincerely into her eyes.
“I wish you’d let me show you. We could start out slow, start with things that wouldn’t disrupt your current relationship with your hymen, if that makes you more comfortable.” He smiled, hope radiated from his expression. “Please, just . . . let me show you.”
“Paul!” She pushed him away and stood up. “Don’t. You know I can’t.” She walked to the end of the porch.
“Yes . . . we can.” He followed her and threaded his arms around her waist. He breathed in her ear, brushing his soft, warm lips over the sensitive skin behind her neck. “Please, give me a chance. I know I can make you see what a mistake all this waiting has been. Maybe you’ve just been waiting for me to come along.”
Her breathing snagged momentarily, she almost withered—almost, but not quite.
“Stop! No! I’m not going to let you . . . do anything! Don’t you understand?”
“I just said I didn’t.” He held her, cuddling her. “I only understand how much I want you.”
“Paul,” she cried, pushing him away. “You are the epitome of every reason I’ve ever had . . . not to!”
The second the words were out of her mouth, she backtracked in horror. She couldn’t believe she’d just said it out loud. She reached up to put her hand on his cheek, she wanted—needed to take back the sting, the look on his face, but he took a step back. He smirked and bent forward, resting his hands on his knees like he needed to catch his breath. He laughed, but not his usual laugh. It sounded darker, the sound of acceptance.
“I’m sorry,” she cried.
“I thought you were supposed to mean it when you say that.” He straightened himself. His face had taken on a stoic expression.
She closed her eyes and pursed her lips. “I am. It didn’t come out the way—”
They both turned to see Tracy and Regina come around the yard below. Paul smiled, but she didn’t like the look of it. Rhees couldn’t bear his expression. She’d never intended to be so cruel.
Tracy and Regina arrived at the top of the stairs to find them staring at each other, and there was an awkward moment of silence.
“Is that my beer?” Regina glanced at the empty beer bottles next to the chairs.
Rhees sighed loudly and closed her eyes. She didn’t need Regina’s paranoia ruining any possibility she might have to apologize to Paul.
“Paul left money in the fridge. He more than paid for what we drank.”
“No problem. That is what it is there for,” Regina said sweetly, looking in Paul’s direction. Tracy shot Regina a shocked glance.
“Do you guys know what time it is?” Tracy finally asked to break the awkward silence hanging in the air. “It’s three in the morning.”
“Yeah,” Paul said. “I’d better get home, see if I can get a couple hours of sleep. That is . . . unless Taye’s in the middle of an orgy. We all know I wouldn’t be able to resist joining in on that.” He glanced at Rhees and even though he gave her a crooked grin, she could see how deeply she’d hurt him. His eyes never lied. He winked before he turned and walked down the stairs.
Rhees threw her hands over her face and started to cry. She ran into her bedroom and slammed the door before Tracy and Regina could interrogate her about what Paul was doing there, why they had drunk so much of Regina’s beer, and why she cried. She couldn’t talk about it. She just wanted to take it all back.
Chapter 20
The next day Rhees couldn’t bring herself to get to the shop until the afternoon. She cried and worried herself sick about the night before, agonizing over her mistake. She still remembered the last time she’d turned Paul down. She considered the possibility of him retaliating and the consequences she’d have to endure because of it. She managed to brush that concern aside. She understood him better now. She cared about him. She’d hurt him, and wished she could take her words back—find a better way to explain her feelings—but she couldn’t.
She finally pulled herself together around noon but then waited for the swelling in her eyes to go down. Facing Paul would be hard enough, but she didn’t want to endure the questions everyone else would surely ask the second they saw her.
When she showed up, Claire told her he’d gone out. He’d said he had an errand to run and wouldn’t be gone long. Rhees wanted to pump Claire for information about his state of mind but didn’t dare ask. She didn’t want to explain it to anyone, not even Claire, but she took it as a good sign that he hadn’t killed anyone that morning. Someone would have said something.
She went out to her usual spot at the end of the deck and sat down to wait. She curled up, wrapping her arms around her shins, and rested her head on her knees, thinking about what she could say to him.
Someone sat next to her, very close.
“Paul, I need—”
“That’s right, beautiful. Tell me what you need and I’ll take care of it for you.” She wanted to smack Taylor for always being so crude.
“You’re in my personal space. Get out.”
“You and Paul had a very exciting night.”
Rhees rolled her eyes, feigning disinterest, but inside, her mind raced. What had Paul told Taylor?
“He tells me everything.” Somehow she knew he lied. “Nah, all I know is that he wasn’t interested in my offering when he finally came home last night.” Taylor watched to see how she’d react, searching for clues. “Don’t hold it against me for trying, although you’re welcome to hold your body against me anytime you want.”
Rhees thought of Paul’s comment about orgies and didn’t respond to Taylor’s comment, but it pleased her to hear that Paul hadn’t accepted.
“You know,” Taylor’s grey eyes dazzled, dancing with excitement. “Paul and I are very close. We don’t mind sharing. We share all the time.”
She glared at him incredulously, the pleasure she’d felt only a second before completely gone. “There’s nothing to share. Paul and I aren’t—haven’t—” She didn’t know why she was telling him. “Leave me alone, Taylor.”
He erupted in laughter. “I know you’re a virgin. It’s not a secret on the island. Ask a few questions and you can learn a person’s life story here.”
She exhaled.
“That’s got to be the only reason he’s so invested and so stingy with you. I’ve never known him to be greedy—not with me. He loves me, you know. He’d do just about anything for me . . . except share you, apparently.” Taylor sounded bothered by that. “Paul has this need to watch out for the people he cares about. But he has a tendency to take that responsibility a little too seriously. People can take care of themselves, but he loses track of that sometimes. The more he cares, the more he loses track.
“I think that’s why he bought this shop and left the real world behind. People come and go here, leaves fewer to care about. Life’s more manageable for him now, I think. I’m not sure what would have happened if he hadn’t gotten away. The pressure—no one can handle that kind of pressure.” Taylor never took his eyes off of her, as if waiting for any signal to jump on, to give him a reason to read something, anything, into her relationship with Paul.
“I’m happy for him,” he continued. “I’m happy to see him happier—that’s not the right word. Accepting, maybe. But something’s changed. I noticed it almost as soon as I got here. He’s different and I couldn’t tell if it’s a good different or a bad different—until last night. Paul always says, ‘I’ll fix it.’ I finally have a chance to try and help him for a change, but I can’t fix it if I don’t know what needs to be fixed. You need to tell me what happened.”
“If Paul didn’t tell you himself, it’s not my place.”
“My protective instincts aren’t as strong as his, but I love him right back. We’ve been friends for most of our lives. That makes us practically brothers. This isn’t like him. I don’t like it.”
“What isn’t like him? And nothing happened last night, at least I didn’t mean . . .” Rhees’ voice trailed off. She couldn’t explain what happened, not to Taylor. She wasn’t sure she could explain it to Paul—anyone. She took several deep breaths to stave off a panic attack.