Wet: Part 1

by Rivera, S. Jackson

  His eyes studied hers for a moment. His eyelids grew heavy and he kissed her again, moaning into her mouth. He traced her lips delicately with his tongue while pulling her closer so he could kiss her even harder. He moved again, wrapping his other hand behind her back, and pulled her body to his. He held her prisoner as he grew against her lower belly. He heard her breath catch.

  Paul lay on her, holding her down, kissing her. She still didn’t comprehend how she got there. It had happened so fast. She tried to twist away from him, but he moved on top of her—the new position gave him deeper access, and he began to make love to her mouth with his tongue.

  He pushed against her, panting irregularly into her mouth, never releasing his hold on her lips. His lower body began to mirror what his tongue was doing. He moved rhythmically, his hands busy, everywhere. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the numbness, the shock from her head.

  “Look at me,” he breathed against her lips.

  She did, and she took a deep breath, realizing she’d forgotten to breathe for—she wasn’t sure how long. She felt dizzy. She put her hands on his shoulders and tried to push again. Tears rolled down the sides of her face.

  “No—please!” She finally found her voice again and wailed.

  He suddenly grew very still, stopped breathing even. His eyes closed. Only then did she realize . . . he was between her legs. She was bare—so was he. Somehow—she didn’t know how or when—but she lay exposed to him. He’d pulled her swimming suit to the side and held himself against her uncovered, unprotected . . . holding it with his hand to ensure it wouldn’t slip inside.

  “Please, no,” she whimpered, barely audible.

  His eyelids opened slowly, purposefully. She didn’t like the new look in his eyes—pain, sorrow, and remorse all rolled into one. Worst of all, she hated the I-told-you-so quality in his expression, but she didn’t dare look away . . . because he still hadn’t moved.

  He pursed his lips. His jaw twitched a couple of times, before he finally rolled off of her with a loud, snarly exhale. His other hand moved to his face, and he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. He held it for too long as he lay on his back—she could only assume, hating himself and, she was certain, her.

  He finally let out a frustrated puff of air. He sat up and looked out across the water, into the darkness so he wouldn’t have to look at her. “You were right, Rhees. I am a wolf. Push me and I’ll devour you in a second.”

  He ran his mouth through a few more of his signature contortions and exhaled hard, still frustrated. “For the record, I had no intention of deflowering you tonight,” he lied—kind of. He’d intended to just scare her, but the line between doing her a favor and doing one for himself had grown a little fuzzy.

  “I knew you were bluffing—even if you didn’t.” He looked down. His voice grew quiet. “I didn’t plan for it to go so far.”

  “I’m sorry.” She could barely get it out.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go for a swim.” He stood and dropped his unbuttoned shorts, and they fell to the deck. He dived into the water and swam away until Rhees could no longer see him in the darkness.

  oOo

  Forty-five minutes later, Paul climbed the ladder from the water, holding the empty wine bottle in his hand. Rhees waited for him, ready to hand him a towel while taking the bottle so he could dry himself off. He still looked angry and never looked her direction.

  “I was worried you’d been eaten by a shark,” she said, hoping to lighten his mood. It didn’t work. She turned sideways to him to avoid facing his naked body while he wiped the water off.

  “I was afraid to come back,” he finally grumbled. “I thought you’d be crying.”

  “And you’re disappointed I’m not?” She glanced at him, careful to look only at his face, but he gave her what she thought was a dirty look, so she looked away again. “You didn’t run away from my crying last night.”

  “Last night, you weren’t crying because of me.”

  “I wasn’t crying because of you tonight, either.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s true. I cried for a while, but because of me, not you.”

  He put his shorts back on. He had too much on his mind and struggled to hang the towel over the gazebo railing to dry. She slipped in at his side and did it for him.

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” he said, a little too gruffly.

  She froze, too shocked to respond. In all the time he was in the water, she tried to imagine what he would say when he returned and how she would respond. This had never come to mind.

  “This island isn’t good for you. You need to get out of here before something . . . irreversible happens. You need to get away from me!” He leaned against the table, still refusing to look at her.

  She wanted to argue with him, tell him she didn’t intend to leave. She loved it on the island—at the shop, the diving—but she couldn’t say it. It broke her heart to hear he didn’t want her there anymore. Her lungs felt half their size. Her heart pounded in her ears, making her feel deaf.

  “Okay.” It came out breathy. She couldn’t find her voice. She wanted to run away, but her legs were weak, too shaky to try to move.

  He turned and headed to the office, and she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do.

  “Okay. I guess I’m going home.” She sat on the mat and stared out at the water. She would miss this view. She didn’t want to waste a single second of it, even if she couldn’t see much of it in the darkness. A few tiny lights twinkled from the mainland so far away, a few stars flickered above, but nothing else made itself noticeable as she stared out into the black . . . possibly because she had something in her eye—both eyes. Tears.

  Wet: Part 2, Preview

  The next morning, Rhees woke early and found herself on the mat, the memory of the night before gradually coming back to her. She reached behind her uncertainly, checking to see if Paul lay next to her, the way he had the last few nights. Her hand came up empty.

  She hated how it all seemed to be unfolding. Were they still friends? Were they back to being enemies? And then she realized it didn’t matter anymore, since she’d be leaving.

  She sat up and noticed Paul’s pillow next to hers. It hadn’t been there when she’d fallen asleep—alone. It made her feel a little better for a second, but the senselessness of reading anything into it hit her again. He’d sent his message loud and clear and the wound seemed to be deepening by the minute.

  She wanted her apartment, her bedroom. She needed a shower, a change of clothes, a change of scenery—she needed to get away. And then there were arrangements to be made—packing, a plane ticket to buy, goodbyes to be said—a sad fluttering battered her heart.

  “Where’re you going?” Paul called from the office as she walked past the door.

  He didn’t sound gruff and that felt better, but it didn’t eliminate her need to escape. She told herself it was illogical, irrational. Running away from the pain of being sent away didn’t make sense, but it didn’t stop her.

  “Home. I need to change.”

  “Wait just a sec, I’ll come with you.”

  “You don’t need to. I don’t want to be a bother.”

  He rolled his eyes at her. “I’m coming. Just let me finish this email. I don’t want you walking around alone.”

  “Okay,” she answered, but she didn’t stop. Overcome with dread at the thought of being near him, the desire to put as much distance between them as possible prevailed. She just kept walking and as soon as she made it around the corner, out of view from the office window, she ran.

  When Rhees walked into the apartment, Regina confronted her.

  “Paul called. He is very angry at you.” Regina pulled her phone from her pocket and hit a button. One second later,
she said, “She just only walked in … Yes … looks fine to me . . .” Regina handed the phone to Rhees, but Rhees refused to take it. Regina gave her a look of incredulity. “He would like to talk to you!”

  Rhees shook her head again and gave Regina a wide-eyed, defiant look.

  Regina put the phone to her ear again. “She does not want to talk to you … I assure you, I do not know why! … All right, I will tell her … yes, I will. You can count on me, Paul … I shall see you later.” She hung up and stared at Rhees. “Paul wants Tracy and I should wait and walk back with you so you do not have to walk alone.”

  “For crying out loud! I’ve walked back and forth from the shop a million times, alone. You don’t have to wait for me.”

  “I will not want to disobey that man. This is Paul I am talking about.”

  “Fine! I may be a while.” Rhees realized how much Regina loved every minute of the situation. She and Paul were on the same side, some kind of secret partnership, making her feel closer to him. It annoyed Rhees and made her want to burst the bubble. “I hope you’re prepared to face Mr. Meanie-Head when we all show up late.”

  Regina squirmed.

  oOo

  Rhees took her time. She wasn’t purposely stalling … well maybe a little. Mostly, she kept thinking of one more thing she just had to do before she could get back to the shop. The list of all she needed to get done before she left the island weighed on her. It overwhelmed her to a breaking point and she finally just lay down on her bed and tried to shut it out.

  Regina eventually grew too nervous to wait any longer. She’d battled with her options, questioning which would displease Paul the most. The thought of seeing him sooner won over waiting for Rhees to never get back to the shop. She grabbed Tracy for moral support and left.

  Rhees heard the screen door slam and knew they were gone. It felt good to finally be alone. She’d been worried she would break out crying again, and she didn’t want them to hear her. But now that she was finally alone, she felt too numb to cry.

  She wanted to sleep, forget everything and possibly dream about something better than what was happening in real life. She tried to drift off, hoping for a brief escape. Seconds later, she thought she heard a noise outside on the porch.

  How did he not get the point when I refused to speak to him on the phone?

  She jumped out of bed and put the lock on the screen door. She listened—waited for whoever happened to be coming up the stairs outside—no one showed up.

  “Tracy? Regina?” She waited for an answer, thinking they’d stopped to tie their shoes or something. “Paul?”

  No answer. She went to the kitchen and got a drink of water. She heard the floorboards creak in the other room. She froze.

  She poked her head around the wall to double check. The lock still hung on the door—it could only mean that someone had already stole into the house before she locked it. “Paul?” Nothing.

  “Paul, don’t hurt them. It’s just a prank. Everyone knows you’d beat the heck out of anyone who broke in. Paul, please don’t hurt them.” She hoped her bluff would scare anyone out of hiding, but no one came out of the woodwork to confess they’d come to play a joke.

  She ran back into her bedroom and slammed the door. She locked it too. She glanced around the room, searching to make sure the room was safe, no one crouching in the corners. Her heart pounded. She lunged onto her bed and clawed her way to the farthest corner. She sat waiting and listening. She didn’t hear anything. She looked into the bathroom. The shower—the shower curtain—anyone could be hiding behind it. She slid quietly off the bed and tip-toed to the door.

  She listened for a minute before opening it, unsure whether the biggest threat was ahead, outside her room, or locked inside with her. She took a deep breath and charged from of her apartment, forcing herself to take the time to lock the doors behind her when all she really wanted was to bolt.

  She felt better when she reached the bottom of the stairs. The pleasant little yard soothed and helped her clear her mind of all thoughts of strangers lurking in her house. She admitted her imagination had been working over time, but it still left her feeling jittery. She headed toward the shop.

  Oceanside stood at the end of the street, a side street no one traveled unless they lived on the road. There were a few houses along the road that always gave Rhees a creepy feeling but today, as she walked past the worst ones, she felt her hair stand on end. She quickened her step.

  She neared the banana tree orchard, a long stretch of the road that had always intrigued her. The orchard appeared neglected and she often wondered if it had been abandoned and why. The trees grew thick and too close together, too dark to see much past the first few rows but someone had spent a lot of money to put up an ornate, rod iron fence.

  For some reason, the owners decorated the top of the fence with broken bottles and animal skulls. She once assumed it was to keep kids from sneaking in and stealing bananas, but today, visions of Voo Doo warnings came to mind. From the shadows, she imagined eyes watching her, following her, waiting for a chance to grab her and drag her into the dark.

  Her heart hammered harder. She could hear it pounding in her ears. She felt hot and cold at the same time, and her stomach rolled, doing somersaults. She ran, though she already struggled for breath, as fast as she could make her legs move.

  She saw the main street up ahead, saw people walking by, and she thought if she could just make it to the main street she’d be safer—if she could just get past a few more creepy houses with dim doorways.

  She rounded the corner and just when she finally felt she might be safe, someone grabbed her. He threw his arms around her and picked her up off the ground, refusing to let go. Her feet dangled, removing any chance she had at gaining enough leverage to break away, so she kicked. She screamed and writhed, looking around frantically, in a panic, for anyone who might help her.

  “Hey! Hey, what’s wrong?” Paul pulled her to him, even closer. He’d seen her come barreling around the corner, and grabbed her when he realized she hadn’t noticed him coming for her. When Tracy and Regina showed up at the shop without her, he’d taken off. He needed to make sure she was all right. The thought of her walking around alone, unprotected, gave him what he knew to be irrational anxieties, but he couldn’t turn them off.

  “Rhees! Hey!”

  She fought him like a mad woman and he struggled not to drop her.

  Shh! It’s okay, it’s me.”

  She finally looked at who had her and moaned with exhausted relief. With a sob, she threw her arms around his neck and circled her legs around him, throwing him off balance. He hung on to her as best as he could while he steadied himself.

  “What’s wrong? Did more of Mario’s friends turn up?” His muscles tensed and his nerves bristled, ready for a fight.

  She whimpered, shaking her head. She buried her face against his neck. He felt her trembling.

  “Only in my imagination,” she sobbed. She didn’t let go for another minute but finally peeled herself off him and climbed down. She covered her face with both hands, shamed and humiliated and part of him wanted to smile. She looked so cute, squirming and floundering as though she didn’t think she’d ever recover her dignity. But he worried too much about what had just happened.

  “I told myself the whole time that it was just my imagination. I knew it wasn’t real, but … I was so scared!”

  Paul hugged her. “Rhees. You’re trembling. Let’s get you to the shop.”

  “No!” She didn’t catch herself fast enough to conceal the alarm. “I can’t face everyone like this.”

  “Okay, let’s go back to your place.”

  “No!” Alarm again. She couldn’t get the ghost lurkers at her apartment out of her head.

  “Okay.” The worried look on his face grew worse with every secon
d. “What about my place?”

  She couldn’t believe how patient he seemed, considering she happened to be acting like a lunatic. She nodded and out of nowhere, hug bombed him again, even tighter than before.

  He picked her up and held her, and never once tried to make her let go until she was ready. When she did climb down again, she took a deep breath while he took her hand and led her toward his apartment.

  oOo

  “Rhees, I’m worried about you.” Paul handed her a small glass of wine. “This will help calm your nerves.”

  “I’m all right, really. I just freaked myself out.” She tried to laugh off his concern.

  “I think you should see a doctor.” He started thinking out loud. “But the health care system here sucks. The doctors are all quacks. You might need anxiety meds or something to help you through this, but you’d need to get stateside, or you might just wind up getting your leg amputated, or worse.” He shook his head in disgust.

  “The horror stories I’ve heard—”

  “So, Saturday isn’t soon enough?” She didn’t hide her bewilderment. “Are you in such a hurry to get rid of me? Maybe I should just leave right now?”

  “Saturday?” Paul stared at her, confused.

  “I’m leaving Saturday.”

  “Why are you leaving Saturday?” It was his turn to sound incredulous.

  She rattled her head, not understanding why he acted so surprised. “Because I want you to get out of here before I do something I might have to feel bad about.” She paraphrased him in a mocking tone.

  He looked down. A breathy laugh came out as he shook his head.

  “You’ve already booked your flight?” He stared at the floor.