Everlasting Light

by Shey Stahl

  Beau tipped his head to the deck of the boat, noticing the way it held my attention. “You wanna dance?” Handing me a beer, he then pushed a shot my direction not long after we found a good place to stop in the middle of the lake.

  I would have agreed to anything if it meant his hands would be on me and my hips. The dance floor held my attention, mostly because there were some girls desperately trying to show off their bodies for him, repeatedly asking him to dance with them. Every time, he said no.

  While I enjoyed the liquid courage in my hand, I wanted to dance with Beau, I did.

  It was apparent Beau was the life of the party on the boat and the reason the majority of these people were here.

  He was the man with the voice that could melt any woman, including me. Every step he took, women surrounded him, and I began to notice he was either oblivious to it or numb to their advances.

  Embracing me when I stood, his eyes remained on mine, never giving the other women a glance. His hand found my stomach, and his finger ran along the edge of my bikini bottoms, stopping near my belly button. The touch made me squirm and want to do more than dance with him.

  Since last night, we hadn’t really talked about us having sex. Not that I wanted to, but I did wonder how he felt about it. Part of me wondered if he regretted it, but the other part didn’t want to know, wanted to believe anything but reality.

  Beau tossed back a shot, handed me one, and I did the same. The fire burned, and before I knew it, his mouth was adding to that delicious feeling, creating an ache from deep within. Whistles broke out, probably from Miles, only I was so caught up with the way Beau’s mouth felt against mine.

  “Don’t pay them any attention,” he told me, before deepening the kiss.

  Judging by the fact he kissed me in front of everyone, maybe he was feeling what I was feeling.

  The hum, the ache to touch him again, was something I couldn’t stop thinking about. I could stop myself from overanalyzing his feelings, and talking too much, but I couldn’t stop the desire.

  Every time he touched me, I felt the raindrops on my cheeks from last night and the weight of his body, a reminder of what we shared. It may have been a one-night thing, or whatever, but the memories, the vivid details my mind held onto was worth it. I focused on the ones where he whispered my name and the desperation in his movements when he came and the way he held me all night.

  I twisted, wanting the contact, needing that contact, I wrapped my arms tight around his neck. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking, but it took all I could not to attack him completely and wrap my legs around him.

  Every eye in there was on us, I could feel it as we made our way to where everyone was dancing.

  Since last night, the passion between us was about as intense as the humidity, heavy and constricting, and there was no way it went unnoticed.

  I was surprised to hear the song playing was actually a Katy Perry song, one you could do more than a line dance to.

  Beau’s head remained down as our bodies came together.

  Gliding my hands over his bare shoulders, he smelled so good, and I couldn’t get close enough to him, even with my body welded to his.

  Running his nose along the curve of my neck, his breath was hot, sticky, and consuming. The small deck on the houseboat was crowded and probably at its maximum weight limit. Sweaty bodies grinding against one another in the confined space.

  With his red baseball hat on backward, Beau’s left hand moved from my hip, his other holding the bourbon he was slow-sipping on. Pressing his hand to my face, he trapped me with his intensity. The beat thumped in my chest, but not as loudly as my heart.

  Swallowing, Beau drew in a deep breath and then pulled my face to his. Lips hesitated, making whisper touches.

  “You still taste so sweet.”

  I took his hat and put it on me. “You taste like bourbon.”

  Beau chuckled, lightly, smiling against my lips.

  We swayed, the beat changing, but Beau poured a lot into that kiss. If he was trying to reassure me with the intimacy of the kiss, that last night meant more to him than I initially thought, it was working for me.

  As I was bumped from behind, my teeth knocked his, but that didn’t stop him. He kept his lips on mine, slowly tracing my mouth with his tongue. Just when I thought he was going to pull back, his hungry lips would reclaim mine, his hand tangling in my hair. Every time, it left me burning and craving more.

  When we weren’t kissing, Beau’s eyes often remained down, watching my hips move against his.

  “Are you relaxed now?” His voice was low, but still heard over the music.

  “Is that what you were going for?”

  Our eyes met. “No, not really. I just wanted to kiss you.”

  “By all means, don’t stop.”

  And he didn’t, at least not during that song.

  THE SUN SET, unwavering fiery red slowly sinking on the horizon. The lights and music from the nearby boats lingered in the distance, as did the twinkle lights wrapped around the top deck of the boat. It was a reminder many were doing the same thing we were, letting go and having fun.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes from the sunset and the pure, natural beauty it held. First orange, then red, and fading into dark blue, another day melting away only to be replaced with sequin-silver stars glowing in the night.

  I loved everything about the night and couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

  Beau was at the bar again, refilling his drink, glassy-eyed and laughing with Miles and Wade as I sat next to Blaine.

  I giggled when Beau stumbled, leaning against the side of the boat for support. “He’s really drunk.”

  “Don’t let Beau have tequila tonight.” Blaine kept her gaze on her brother while taking a bite of her hot dog.

  “Why?”

  Setting down the half-eaten hot dog, she rolled her eyes. “He turns into an asshole.”

  “Good to know.” I brought the rum and coke mixture I had been sipping on for the last hour to my lips. “I’ve heard a lot of people turn into dicks after drinking it.”

  Had to say it was true for my dad too. I guess in some ways I wasn’t much of a drinker—aside from this weekend—because of him. No way did I want to be like him.

  “Does Beau drink it often?” He had the bottle in his hand, talking to Miles and pointing at it, maybe giving him some elaborate drinking story.

  “The only time I’ve seen him drink it, he punched Jensen in the face.”

  “Oh.” I couldn’t imagine Beau being physically violent with anyone, but I also saw the way he was watching Joel tonight.

  About an hour ago, Beau overheard Joel ask me to dance, and shoved him back into Miles and Gavin, but said nothing.

  Joel didn’t seem to mind, laughed it off and asked Blaine to dance. Joel seemed determined he would get me to dance sometime. For an eighteen-year-old kid he was harmless, although extremely flirty.

  Something also told me there was a side to Beau he didn’t display often, but when he did, it wasn’t pretty.

  He set down the bottle of tequila, and I could hear them talking about some concert in Memphis when Payton approached Beau as he moved closer to me, now within earshot.

  “Hey,” she looked right at Beau. “I’m gonna sing a little.” Then she leaned forward, saying something in his ear, only to have him shake his head no and back away from her.

  What the hell did she say to him?

  Beau told me he was going to play later tonight, but hadn’t said anything about anyone else. I didn’t even know Payton could sing.

  “Payton sings too?” I asked Beau, when he returned to sit next to me on the couch, his mood changed completely from the laughing I’d just witnessed, to a set scowl at Payton.

  Beau nodded to my question, but said nothing.

  All the blood drained from my face. Fucking perfect.

  I was dying to ask what she said, but didn’t. “I can’t sing,” I noted, my word vomit returning. “I s
ound like a cat dying.”

  He nodded, again, giving me a wink, but still, said nothing, his body rigid and tense.

  Of course she sings. Damn it. I hope she sucks. She needs a flaw.

  I thought it was great when she played “Any Man Of Mine” and had Blaine and Laney dancing around. Payton sounded surprisingly a lot like Shania Twain.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect after that, I mean, she got the party started, but was shocked when she began an acoustic version of “When He Leaves You” by Shania Twain.

  My first thought when she glanced at me several times was “What have I gotten myself into?’

  My other was that I found her flaw. Jealousy. Why else would she have chosen that song?

  “Fucking bitch,” Beau groaned under his breath, but I heard him. Downing the rest of his drink, he seemed annoyed with Payton in the opening lyrics that were directed my way.

  Part of me was stunned to hear him talk that way about her.

  Beau looked like he was going to explode. With a sniff, he stared her down with fire-lit eyes.

  I had a feeling their breakup wasn’t exactly pleasant judging by the hostility in him right then.

  During the chorus, her eyes remained on mine, revealing a pain deep within, and maybe even caused by Beau.

  Was she singing that to me?

  Hell yes, she’s singing to you.

  Was she warning me?

  Probably.

  I no longer had good, kind thoughts about Payton.

  Nope. They were gone when she gave me that vindictive smile and sad eyes.

  Beau said absolutely nothing during that song, but he also never moved his arm from around my shoulders, which I appreciated, but still, that song was a warning, even I knew that.

  I glanced at Beau and then Miles, who was laughing at Payton when the song was over. She flipped him off and walked away.

  Unsure what just happened, my stare found Beau again, and when he felt me watching, he smiled halfheartedly, his breathing increasing.

  I guess he didn’t know what to say.

  There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why did she do that?” I asked, even though I knew what it was, I wanted him to tell me.

  She wanted to let me know this was her man I had been messing around with, and maybe she was trying to stake claim, again, or let me know what they had was still there.

  I couldn’t tell you if it was still there or not, because I didn’t know myself. All I knew was they broke up, and since two nights ago, my dream had come true.

  “I’m not sure,” Beau mumbled, and then stood. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  He then left, walking over to Payton. I silently wished he was going to be a jerk to her for that.

  Despite not eating most of the day, my hunger escaped me after hearing Payton sing, along with any comforting thoughts I had of Beau only having eyes for me. I couldn’t compare to someone like Payton, no way.

  They had a past together.

  We had one night. Or two.

  A few minutes later, Beau returned and took his guitar from its case, never saying anything to me.

  What did they say to each other?

  Was he mad at her now?

  As Beau was setting up to play, I stared at the hamburger in front of me, unable to eat. I couldn’t understand why either. It was either because I was so worked up over Payton, or my own internal lunacy. Whatever it was, it felt like butterflies were attacking my heart.

  “You okay?” Miles asked, seeming to notice my lack of appetite or maybe he observed the way I stared endlessly at Beau.

  I shrugged, picking at the sesame seeds on the bun one by one, trying not to make eye contact with Miles since I was close to tears.

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “Just too much to drink,” I lied, thinking me being drunk was always a good excuse for anything out of the normal.

  “Ah, I see. Well, if you’ve drank too much, then eating is good. Soaks up the alcohol…” he bumped my shoulder, “but if you’re upset about Payton, which it seems like that’s the winning ticket here, she’s nothing to him,” Miles spoke with sincerity I didn’t know someone like him could have. “Actually, they’ve been broken up for over a year.”

  Immediately, I wanted to know why they broke up. I wanted to be a fly on the wall in that conversation and know every single detail about it. Everything.

  “He really likes you a lot,” Miles noted. “You know that, right, Legs?”

  I lowered my eyes nervously, feeling uncomfortable being near Miles. “We just met the other day.”

  “Yeah, I remember,” he teased, ribbing me playfully as though we were best buds. “You landed in his lap. Fate, huh?”

  My smile took over. “Stop it.”

  “Do you have any more of that rum we had last night?” Laney asked, taking a seat on Miles’s lap. “That stuff your uncle left?”

  He grinned and licked her cheek. “Yep, it’s on the counter.” He then gestured to the galley of the boat where it was pretty much impossible to get into.

  Confused, I watched Laney on Miles’s lap with a joint in her hand. I wasn’t surprised to see her smoking; she did it a lot. What I couldn’t understand was what she was doing this weekend. She came with Gavin, but yet, she was hanging on Miles? Although, I wasn’t surprised. In the four years we spent at Auburn University, she had a lot of visitors.

  Out of boredom and absolutely no life, I used to keep a log, but eventually ran out of paper and interest.

  Miles seemed like a good person, just incredibly flirty with everyone.

  To my right, when I found Beau again, he and Payton were deep in conversation, and he didn’t look too happy with her, his jaw clenched.

  I didn’t think Payton liked me, but it seemed she didn’t like many people here, including most of Beau’s friends, like Miles. Which was strange to me. They all seemed nice.

  “She’s a bitch,” Miles huffed as Laney got up to find the rum.

  “Who’s a bitch? Lane?” I asked him, noticing the way he was watching Laney and then Blaine dancing with Gavin and that Joel guy. At least he found someone to dance with.

  Miles chuckled and turned to face me. “No, I was talking about Payton...she’s a bitch.”

  “I thought you guys were all friends?”

  “No, we are not. She and Beau are friends…or used to be.” He pointed to himself. “I am friends with Beau, not her, not that slut.” He shivered as though he was disgusted by her very presence, but he was also stoned, so he could have been exaggerating on the matter entirely.

  I couldn’t say I felt any different.

  “Why is she a slut?”

  “They broke up and she fucked all his friends.”

  I raised an eyebrow, shaking my head in disbelief. “All of them?”

  “Uh-huh. We were all victims of a hate-crime.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not the term to use.”

  “Oh, well, I’m sure it is. She hated him and used us against him. All I had to say was, I love you, I have a condom and she was all over my dick like it was a lollipop.”

  I rolled my eyes, laughing, and not at all surprised by anything he was saying. “You could have said no.”

  “See that’s expecting too much from a man. Lower your standards, darlin’.”

  The more Miles talked, the more entertained I became. Or maybe it was because he had a bottle of rum with him and he was helping ease me out of my self-loathing pity party.

  As Beau leaned against the side of the boat, guitar beside him and Payton walking away, he drew in a deep breath and hung his head, picking up the guitar and making his way to where they had the microphone set up near the bow.

  Beau’s mood before was energetic, but now he seemed a little more on edge, vulnerable and shifting into something else entirely.

  “You wanted me to sing, here’s something I’m sure you all know.” He gave a nod to Wade, who was playing a guitar beside him, chuckling
as he took a drink from his cup. “It’s one of mine…and if you’re not a fan, get off the fuckin’ boat then.”

  Everyone laughed, except for Joel who smarted off with, “Who the hell are you?”

  Beau’s glare shot to his, leaning into the mic. “You can definitely get the fuck off the boat.”

  Joel laughed it off. Beau didn’t. Only I was positive Joel knew exactly who Beau Ryland was.

  “This song is called ‘Don’t Tell Me That You Miss Me’.” During the opening notes, Beau caught my eye every once in a while, and every time his expression was something I couldn’t place. His mood was off. What had Payton said to him?

  As I sat in the corner with Miles, I noticed Beau gripping the mic, his body swaying, slightly rocking from one foot to the other.

  As the music went into a riff, his eyes found Payton’s, but he kept his head bent forward, almost more menacing that way.

  “Don’t tell me that it hurts. You’re the one that said goodbye.” Through the darkness, I saw the sky blue that could give you chills and tingles at the same time, glaring at his ex-girlfriend. “This ain’t water poured on water, this is gas poured on a flame.” As the music sped, his voice became louder to the point where he was practically screaming. “Don’t pretend to know this pain. You’re not the one that’s lonely.”

  Looking at him now, I’d never seen him play like this before, so dejected, so angry. He had an intensity that seemed even darker than the lyrics to the song.

  He rocked from side to side throughout the third verse, his hand tight on the microphone, one in his pocket. “I don’t need to hear how sorry you are now. Don’t tell me that you miss me.”

  Across from me, Miles smiled. “Told you he doesn’t like her.”

  WHEN HE FINISHED singing, Beau picked me up, swinging me around with him as he kissed me passionately and then whispered in my ear, as if nothing happened, “I hope you don’t have plans the rest of the night.”

  “Why?” I was a little tipsy and giggling, red-cheeked and swaying, faking nonchalance.

  “Because I plan on taking this bikini off with my teeth,” he said in that gravelly, seductive voice with a glint of mischief in his eyes, setting me on my feet.