by Auden Dar
I toss and turn all night, finally falling asleep at around 3:45 a.m. Unlike his usual self, Andrew woke me up right before he left for UCLA. Kissing me gently on the lips, he says, “Lina, I’m leaving for work. Call me once you have landed. Have a nice time and” −he pauses for a brief second− “just have a good time. If you need me, I’m only a phone call away. I love you.”
It’s almost eleven thirty and I think I have everything. Toiletries, check. Makeup, check. Sexy party dress, check. To die for Louboutins, check. Sweats, check. Chuck the sweats. Sunglasses, check. Agent Provocateur under apparels, check. Not that anyone else will see, but a girl always wants to feel sexy. Extra clothes, check. I’m ready to go, and Julian should be arriving any minute.
Studying myself in the mirror, I am filled with excitement. I haven’t seen him in years and wonder if he looks the same. Heartbreak fills me as I think about the sad, lonely boy I held that night. I try to put that heart-rending thought away and decide to check my items again. It’s the past and who knows what has happened all these years.
After my quick shower, I decided to keep my hair parted in the middle and in a bun. Who wants to fuss with unruly hair? I look at the reflection staring back at me. My long oval face hasn’t changed much. My wide-set green eyes have saddened over time. The cheekbones are still high, but not as full as they were when I was a teenager. I was certainly heavier back then. I forgo wearing makeup; instead, I apply tinted moisturizer and dab light lip gloss to my lips. Anyway, it’s just Julian. I never needed to fix myself up for him.
My doorbell rings and I grab my Prada messenger bag along with my small black luggage. Opening the door, I realize my iPad remains on top of the kitchen counter. I leave the door slightly ajar, grab the iPad, and as I head out, I bump into him.
HIM.
My balance falters as I stare up and freeze at the sight of the man holding the door.
Ten
“Lina.” His large hands are on my elbow, slowly lifting me off the ground. “Are you all right?”
That voice.
It is deep, raspy and ridiculously sexy.
How could I ever forget it?
I stare up, my green eyes enlarge, and I instantly do a double take.
Oh, fuck.
Deep down inside, I knew it had to be him.
Denial is a bitch.
Oh.
My.
God.
His gray-blue eyes have widened and they’re mesmerizing.
It’s him!
The gorgeous man I fantasized having sex with.
It wasn’t romantic and gentle sex. It was dirty, filthy, pornographic sex, worthy of winning the AVN awards. Yes, the Oscars of adult movies.
“Julian?” I ask as if I had been hit on the head.
He remains standing there, grinning from ear to ear, his sapphire eyes sparkling. Why isn’t he wearing his Harry Potter style glasses?
“Julian?” I ask again as my posture stiffens.
“Yes, it’s actually me.” He chuckles.
I gaze up and stare at him as if I’ve just seen a ghost. He bites the corner of his bottom lip and doesn’t offer any more. My mouth remains wide open, unable to hide my shock.
It’s Julian Caine.
The boy I’ve missed for the past fourteen years.
Now, a man.
A. Gorgeous. Drop-dead. Handsome. Man.
Don’t look at him.
Do. Not. Look. At. Him.
Dammit, I gawk at the man before me. My body temperature rises, and I become warm. My God, my body actually feels like it’s on fire.
I dreamed about having sex with you.
Salacious thoughts of you helped me get through boring sex.
All I want to do is run and hide.
His hand travels from my elbow down to my fingertips. I stare at how large his hands are. Then I eye his shoes. They’re enormous! Has he always had such large hands and feet? I laugh inside and wonder if the urban legend is true …
I take this gorgeous man in and I am pleasantly shocked and … mortified. I actually blatantly stare at Julian a bit too long. Is it really him? I finally straighten myself, and as I am able to slowly study him in all his glory, I am absolutely amazed. Lord knows I’ve seen many good-looking men especially in this town but Julian catches me off guard. He is even more stunning up close. Clad in dark blue fitted jeans and a vintage The Police t-shirt, he is one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen. No, let me correct myself. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. I know it’s been over a decade since I last saw him but whoa. Good heavens. Time has certainly been kind to him.
What happened to the awkward teen with a buzz cut, geeky glasses and a mouthful of metal? What happened to the short and skinny kid? What happened to the boy I once considered a brother?
Then it dawns on me again. I had envisioned him pounding me hard while Andrew made love to me. This is not good. I shake my head.
Not. Good. At. All.
Eww, I’m a pervert.
“Are you okay?” Julian asks in his delicious British accent. Gone is his frog-like prepubescent voice. He is all man, now. That sonorous voice … deep, raspy, sexy… the kind I would love to hear whisper dirty, filthy words to me.
The kind of voice that would have me do anything. Anything.
“Yes, I’m so … sorry,” I falter. “I’m just surprised.” Freaking shocked! “Let me just get my bag.” I’m frazzled but I try my best to look calm and collected. And although we’ve only been in each other’s company for a matter of seconds, I find myself strangely attracted to him. Dammit, of course, I’m attracted to him. I had thought about his dick. Oh, my God! I actually fantasized about Julian’s dick. And I do the unthinkable−I eye his crotch. His bulge is prominent. Catching myself, I quickly turn my head away.
Fuck, I had imagined him fucking me. No … no … no … this isn’t right. But I didn’t know it was him. All these unfamiliar thoughts coming all at once exhaust me. I need something hard to drink.
He gives me a puzzled expression while holding my bag in the air. “Got it. The driver is waiting for us. I forgot to let you know that I have a dog traveling with us. You’re going to fall in love with him.”
Huh?
“You love dogs. Wait until you meet mine,” he says, completely unaware that I’m at a loss for words.
I stare at him, my palm on my chest, still in shock.
“Lina?”
“Of course, I love dogs.”
“Shall we?” Extending his large hand. Instead, I find myself holding his right arm, squeezing his muscular biceps. Why did I just do that? I mentally tell myself it’s just the excitement of the trip. Maybe not, maybe it’s this kid that has grown up to be staggeringly handsome. Not a kid anymore. His arms are huge. He’s definitely no stranger to working out.
“You look beautiful, Lina,” he expresses with a wonderful smile that reveals what a great job his orthodontist did. There’s no doubt I have a stupid grin on my face.
“Thank you, you look … great yourself. I think I saw you a few days ago at a café around here,” I mutter while recalling the memory of seeing him at the café and later at the beach.
I wanted to jump you when I saw you take your shirt off at the beach.
“Yes, I didn’t know if you would recognize me, but that’s why I paid for the coffee. I … I was going to stop by your table. I apologize for not doing that. I was caught off guard the first time I saw you, and when you walked into the café the other day …” Julian pauses for a brief second. “Well, it’s been years since we last saw one another. I didn’t know how to approach you.”
I am stunned by his admission.
“What do you mean you didn’t know how to approach me? It’s not like you’ve never seen me in my worst moments.”
“Lina,” he says, halting his steps. He exhales loudly and admits, “I was embarrassed. It’s been a while and I didn’t know how you would react. Plus, you were with someone.”
&nb
sp; “Yes, I was with a friend.” I stop myself and realize that I don’t want to ruin our reunion by asking too many questions. I’ve missed him for so long. “I just can’t believe that was you. You don’t look like you anymore.” I stare at him and pause, trying to find the right words. “You … you have changed so much.” What an understatement.
“Fourteen years can change a person. But you, you’re still so beautiful. Possibly more beautiful than ever.” I could certainly get used to having this impossibly ridiculously handsome man call me beautiful.
A black sedan awaits a few steps from the entrance of my house. Julian opens the passenger door, and as I slide in, the cutest brindle bulldog jumps on me. Ouch! He’s heavier than he looks.
“Lina, this is Mugpie.” Julian pets his dog’s very wrinkly head.
“Mugpie?”
“Yeah, Mugpie. A friend’s niece came up with the name. It was original and I liked it.”
Mugpie is literally all over me. His tongue darts out and licks the side of my face. Grabbing a handkerchief out of his pocket, Julian tries to push the cute fat dog off me. Handing me the handkerchief, he says, “I’m sorry, he’s just excited.” In an authoritative tone, he orders, “Mugpie, get off her.” But of course, the dog has his own agenda.
“Julian, don’t worry about it. He’s absolutely adorable.” And I allow Mugpie to sit next to me. I smile at the rambunctious bulldog and then giggle when I see he’s sporting an … erection.
My laughter dies down when I notice the gorgeous man staring at me. His sapphire eyes are bright. His lips are slightly parted. He doesn’t say a word and only offers a grin.
A panty-dropping grin.
Do not take your panties off.
After Julian closes the passenger door, I exhale so loudly that his bulldog stares at me. Whispering in Mugpie’s ear, I say, “I would have never guessed in a million years that your dad would turn out so damn gorgeous.” He doesn’t care for my sentiment at all. Instead, he rests his large, heavy, wrinkly head on my lap before falling asleep.
How is it possible the boy I had considered as a little brother has me all hot and bothered? I can’t even recall ever being turned on like this. Maybe listening to a new Ennio Morricone soundtrack, but that’s about it. Okay, okay, if I’m going to be honest … watching Bruce Venture in action on my Tumblr app.
Compose yourself, Lina. You’re going to be around this guy for the next few days.
As we head toward Santa Monica Airport, Julian introduces me to the driver before asking him to turn up the music.
“I hope you don’t mind. I love this Jamie Cullum album.”
“No, not at all. He’s amazing. I’m surprised you like his stuff. When we were kids, all you listened to was The Police,” I reminisce while pointing at the image on his t-shirt, “and Coldplay and maybe two or three other English bands.”
“I’ve expanded my horizons since then. But The Police and Coldplay are hands down still the best bands ever,” he says with a bit of laughter.
His laugh is sweet and sincere. I watch his head tilt back, and all I can think about is licking his long neck. Shake it off, Lina. Shake that thought off.
Suddenly, the silence hangs between us, and the only thing in the background is the sound of Jamie Cullum singing a remake of a Rihanna song and Mugpie’s snoring.
“Would you like to get something to eat before taking off?” he asks.
“Do we have time?”
“If you’re hungry, we’ll make time. There’s a place at the airport that serves Asian fusion food. I’ve never been there, but it’s convenient.”
“That would be great.”
“Jerry, please keep Mugpie company while I take Lina to lunch. Is there something you’d like me to bring back for you?”
“Will do, sir. And no, thank you.”
As he leads me out of the car, I thank Jerry as well.
When we head up the stairs to Typhoon, I can’t help but feel that I am being studied. I turn around slightly and gazing up at me are clear gray-blue eyes, smiling. Why didn’t I dress up? Why am I not in heels instead of flip-flops? Why didn’t I decide to put some makeup on this face that seems so boring right now? Fresh faced seemed good an hour ago, but now… I must look ghastly. Why do I even care? I try to hide my low self-esteem and once I am in front of the restaurant, I peek at myself through the door’s reflection. Girl, you should have taken some time to fix your face this morning.
Once we are seated, Julian takes the liberty of ordering food for us. Usually something like that would annoy me but the items rolling off his tongue are appetizing. We wait for our food in silence, staring at one another, old friends who have become strangers after years of separation. I didn’t think it would be this awkward between us. Where does one start a conversation after being left? I try to forget the years of abandonment. I refrain from asking him about his whereabouts after he left me. Instead, I look over at Julian and smile. We take sips of our Pinot Grigio in unison, and our meal arrives in record time.
Samosa, Thai shrimp satay, poached Manila clams and Filipino adobo are arranged simply on the table. I immediately dig in and savor the meal. It’s been a while since I’ve had anything remotely exotic.
“Delicious, huh, Lina?”
“Umm, sooo good,” I answer with such delight that one would think I had been on a hunger strike for months.
“I forgot how happy you are while eating. How about trying something more exotic?”
“Uh, this is pretty exotic. What did you have in mind?”
“How about the frog legs? They’re known for that here.”
“Eww, gross. I’m not that adventurous. I’ll stick with shellfish and fowl,” I say as I continue to wolf down the meal.
He laughs as he takes a sip of his wine.
“All right, then.” He takes another sip without his eyes leaving mine. “I can’t describe how it feels to have you here with me. It’s wonderful seeing you after all these years. I look forward to spending some time with you.”
God, you’re insanely hot.
“Excuse me?”
“Uhh, this is a bit hot … but delicious.” Did I just blurt that out? Of course I did.
Our lunch together is mostly a quiet one. Every now and then, I glance up and find him watching me as I devour our meal. The silence between us is no longer uncomfortable.
Glancing at his watch, he says, “Lina, I’m sorry to rush you, but we will need to leave soon.”
I finish my glass of Pinot Grigio and suddenly burp. “Excuse me. God, that was embarrassing.”
He instantly laughs. I have missed the sound of his laughter all these years, even though it is deeper and sexier. “Don’t be. Glad to know you enjoyed your meal.”
“It was really good. Thank you for suggesting this place.”
Once the check arrives, I reach for it. Julian taps my hand and shakes his head. With disapproving eyes, he says, “No, please don’t. It’s my treat.”
“Thank you. It was really good.”
“My pleasure.” Eyeing his watch again, he suggests, “We should go, though,” before reaching for my hand. It doesn’t feel strange to have him hold my hand after all these years. His large hand feels different because it’s twice as large than the last time we walked hand in hand. But at the same time, it’s comfortable. His hand entwined with mine feels like home.
Eleven
Walking toward the jet, Julian excitedly tells me that it’s a Piaggio P-180 Avanti jet. I don’t know or care for anything about jets except for getting from point A to point Z safely. However, I listen in awe as he casually mentions flying it himself from San Francisco. But today he’s going to have someone else pilot the plane so he and I can catch up. Thank God! Hot or not, I don’t want my childhood friend piloting his jet with me on board.
The jet is stylish. It has silk carpeting, light beige leather seats and my host says proudly, “The overhead lights are LEDs.” The jet seats seven passengers and when Julian and I e
nter, it seems too big for just the two of us.
“I know we just had lunch, but is there something that I can get you? Perrier? Wine?” he asks.
“Yes, please, and by the way, I have to go to New York in a few days. Can you please take me there after San Fran? I need a ride, and now that you’ve spoiled me, I don’t think I want to fly commercial anymore,” I tease.
In a serious tone, he asks, “Do you go back home often?”
“No, not as often as I would like. Santa Monica is home now.” My eyes remain glued to the seat belt that my fingers continue to play with. Ugh, I drank more wine than usual.
“Here, let me help you.” He leans over to assist me with the seat belt, and I can’t help but inhale his scent. Closing my eyes, I take it all in. Dear God, he smells so good. He doesn’t smell like baby powder.
Breaking me out of my Julian Caine scent-induced reverie, he offers, “If you want to go to New York next week, we can go together. We wouldn’t even need to refuel.”
“Julian, I’m only kidding.”
“I’m not. In all seriousness, we can go anytime. It would be fun to be in New York together. I miss our time there.”
I don’t respond to his offer.
First class is nice, but this … this is beyond nice. As we start down the runway, Julian picks up a remote control, and in the background is Robert Miles’ “Children.”
“Oh, I love this,” I beam because it’s one of my favorite compositions by one of my favorite DJs. “This is a different version, though.”
“It’s a rendition by Escala. You had played the original nonstop when we were kids,” he says with an exaggerated tone.
“I did not.”
He nods his head. “You certainly did.”
“Wow, that was a lifetime ago. How do you remember that?” I ask surprised.
Looking directly at me, he admits, “I remember everything about you. Everything.” His eyes are intense, and the sexy grin on his face bewilders me.
The wine did me in. My body feels like it’s on fire. Dear God, my clothes feel too tight. My face reddens, and I turn away, trying to hide my own ridiculous grin. I don’t feel uncomfortable, but I somehow feel different around him. Could it be that gorgeous thick, tousled dark hair? Has he always had beautiful hair? What would it be like to run my fingers through it? Maybe it’s the long black eyelashes that surround his piercing eyes? Oh, let’s not forget that sonorous voice and sexy British accent.
