That Guy

by Belle Brooks

  “I’m fine.” Again, with the dreamy reply. Stop it, Mindy. Just stop it.

  “I’ll leave it here for you then.” Arlie’s free hand now skirts my upper arm. “See you in a minute or two.”

  I nod.

  He turns and walks down a carpeted hallway. I don’t shift my sight from his bare back, because it’s beautiful. Even the small brown birthmark marking his skin like a tramp stamp in the small of his back is perfect.

  Snap out of it before he sees you staring at him.

  I blink excessively, then grab my suitcase and make my way to the right and the bedroom I was told was mine, dragging my luggage behind me. “Thank you, God,” I whisper under my breath, still thinking about the sudden strip show I was gifted.

  The door to my quarters is cracked open. I push against the wood until it widens farther. It’s dark, which I’m not expecting due to the time of the day. However, after adjusting my sight, I spy two huge curtains pulled along the farthest wall. I leave my belongings inside the door, including the hat I take off. Is it bad luck to wear a hat indoors? Or is that only if you open an umbrella inside? I can’t remember.

  I make the vast distance from the room’s entry to the curtains. I take one of the two metal sticks hanging from the point where the curtains meet and pull.

  Step by step, I draw back the dense material. Sunshine blasts through the gap it creates like an eclipse. It’s bright enough that I could wear sunglasses. Perhaps I’ll leave here with Amazonian skin and not the milky white complexion I currently have. That would be a bonus.

  Once I have one side completely drawn, I make my way to the other curtain but stop before I finish the trek. The view—the view is so captivating. It has me holding my breath. Trees sway, waves ripple onto the shore, and there’s so much white sand. The sky glows a brilliant blue above, and it almost appears as if it’s been hand-painted there.

  “Wow,” I mouth, noticing the sea is absent of boats, vessels, and people. I’m really on a deserted island. My breath gets faster. Whoa. Did I even realise that before now? It rains down on me like a tonne of bricks. Every breath I take becomes harder. Oh God, am I hyperventilating?

  “Melinda, are you happy with your room?” Arlie says over the sound of light tapping.

  “I am,” I reply, with my eyes glued to the view laid out in front of me as I attempt to control my sudden bout of anxiety.

  “It’s pretty impressive, yeah?”

  “It is.”

  I don’t hear his footsteps, but I know he’s standing behind me because I can feel his breath cascading across the back of my neck. “I don’t think I’ll want to leave here when it’s all said and done.”

  I shake my head, slowly, hesitating. I’m mesmerised.

  Arlie’s presence disappears. I catch him striding past me from the corner of my eye. He pulls the opposing curtain away.

  “Our rooms are pretty much identical. Even the view is similar,” he says.

  “How is that possible? Didn’t you say you’re down the opposite end of the hall?”

  “I am, but it appears the scenery is similar from both ends of the property.”

  “Do you see the mountains, too?” I point towards the high green peaks in the distance.

  “I do, although one of mine looks like a crooked nose on a face.” He half laughs. “Well, that sounded stupid, but to me it does. What do yours look like?” He comes to stand beside me. I scan peak after peak until I’m left looking at a rock face with a protruding mound.

  “A boob.” I giggle. “Doesn’t that one there look like a boob?” I stretch my finger in its direction.

  He mimics my movement and uses his extended finger to trace the shape of a breast against the glass sliding door which separates us from the circular veranda. “With a nipple and all. I think we should swap rooms. I want to admire the boob mountain. You can have the crooked nose mountain?”

  “No dice. If you’d said it was shaped like a giant peen …” I snap my teeth together and curl my lips shut.

  “Peen? Were you going to say pen?” Arlie grins in a way that says he knew exactly what I had intended to say.

  I’m blushing. I know I am because my face becomes overheated.

  “What’s so endearing about a pen? Are you a stationery collector or something?” He nudges into me softly. “I know—you've got a thousand pens scattered from arsehole to breakfast around your home, don’t you? Sticky notes, oh la la! They’re stuck to every wall, too, I bet. Go on. You can share.”

  I clear my throat, trying not to laugh.

  “I should go down to level two. There’s a conference room there. If my memory serves me correctly, I think there’s a few pens with the Heart Key logo on them. I could get you some, if it’ll tickle your fancy.”

  My determination falters, and I giggle. “Stop it.” I fold my arms defensively across my chest and dramatically huff.

  “What? You’re the one who loves pens, not me.”

  I turn my eyes in his direction. Big wide teeth. A gorgeous broad smile. A face so handsome it should be carved into the side of a mountain for every person on Earth to admire.

  “So is that a yes to me getting you those pens?” His banter is cheeky.

  “Noooo!” I place my hand on my forehead. “You make me so embarrassed.”

  “Me?” He stops. “There’s no need to be all blushing and overwhelmed. We all have things that, you know, turn us on. Personally, I love me some balloons. All colours, every shape. They feel …”

  “Stop taking the mickey out of me. You don’t even have a thing for balloons. I think you teasing me is what turns you on here, Mr Blight.”

  He shrugs. “I guess time will tell.”

  “Arrrgh. You’re terrible.”

  “I am. It’s true. I’m a monster.”

  Arlie’s quick-witted, handsome, and funny with a hot-arse body. I can mess around with him with such ease, and, apart from Chris, I typically don’t let any man see that relaxed side of me. But with Arlie, it comes easily. He’s everything I hoped for and more, which is why I need to tread carefully because I don’t want to get hurt.

  I don’t want Arlie to leave me with scars.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I’ve opened every drawer and run my fingertips across each surface; there’s not a speck of dust to be located in this room.

  I’ve lain on an extremely comfortable four-poster bed and peered out at Boob Mountain from a pillow that feels like it’s been handmade out of the stuffing you’d only be able to pluck from a cloud … It’s the softest pillow my head has ever encountered.

  Every switch in the room has been flicked on and off at my hand, including the chandelier, which remains lit. I watch the many dangling crystals sparkle above until I spot two red lights in either corner of the room. The camera’s.

  Exploration of the walk-in robe was the best part of these impromptu tasks because it’s gigantic and fan-tab-ulous … It would have been even more rewarding if I had the clothes, shoes, and accessories to fill every square inch of it. The wardrobe is about the size of my bedroom back home, which makes me instantly feel like a pauper. The fact we were only allowed to bring one piece of luggage to Heart Key means not even one percent of this lavish space can be filled, which is wasteful in my book. I wonder if the show takes requests for custom clothing?

  Arlie stands in the centre of the room as I continue to move from task to task. He doesn’t say a word, but I sense his eyes travelling with my movements. Usually, I’d find this creepy or even stalkerish, but I don’t with him because I like thinking someone like Arlie could enjoy what he sees when he’s looking at me.

  Chris said I could change my life story to end how I like, so why can’t I create a tale where Arlie finds me to be enough? Where following me everywhere will bring him happiness while living out his life?

  Opening the patio doors allows a light breeze to wrap around my skin. It’s refreshing—not cold, but not hot either. “I’m going to leave these ajar.”

&
nbsp; “Sounds like a good idea.”

  Oh, his voice. It’s soft yet profound. I could listen to Arlie Blight speak all day and night.

  “Did you unpack?” I ask, spinning around to face him.

  “Yes, two days ago. I’ve been all over the island and the house—not your room, though … I thought I’d wait for you.”

  “The door was ajar,” I comment with a hint of accusation in my tone.

  “I know it was. It was like that when I arrived. I did come down this way, but I didn’t enter the room. As I said, I wanted to wait for you. I wanted to see it through your eyes. You’re pleased?”

  “Pleased? Arlie, it’s the most amazing bedroom I’ve ever clapped eyes on. I could live in here forever. Hey, do you have a big television on your wall?” I point in the direction of the screen across from my bed.

  “I do. Our rooms are pretty much identical. The only difference is your drapes, bedspread, and décor are reds and golds, and mine are dark blues and silvers.”

  “Wow! Matching king and queen rooms.”

  “It seems so.” Arlie walks around to the right side of the bed, the side I prefer to sleep on. “Watch the television. I want to show you something.”

  “Porn?” Oh God. I did not just say that … did I?

  Arlie chuckles. “No. Not porn. Watch.” He grabs a silver remote from off a small cabinet below it, and I quickly twist until I stare at the blank screen. The television suddenly lifts and disappears into the wall, only to be replaced by a large portrait of Audrey Hepburn, one of the people I admire.

  My chin drops. My mouth hangs open. “Incredible,” I say on a ragged breath.

  “I have Frank Sinatra in mine.” There’s silence. “Do you want me to put the TV back the way it was for you?”

  “No, no,” I rush in saying. “I love Audrey.”

  “Okay.”

  “I should probably unpack.”

  “Sounds good. After, though, we’ll need to read through those binders on the table downstairs.”

  “Have you read them?”

  “No. Just the welcome letter and some of the manuals for operating the stove and oven.” He shrugs. “I’ve only been here for two nights, but I needed to cook and eat.”

  “How do we even get food to cook here?”

  “There’s a small convenient store.”

  “Huh?”

  “There’s also a chemist and clothing stores.” His eyebrows lift, and he grins. “There’s also a nice jewellery shop as well … So many things.”

  Is he having me on again?

  “It’s true, I swear.”

  “Wait, what? It’s a deserted island. There are not supposed to be other people here.” I’ll go along with his little white lies and see how far he goes with them.

  “There are no people running them.”

  I cock one eyebrow. “Well, who makes sure people pay for what they buy then?”

  “Us. It’s all ours. There was a master key to open everything whenever we wanted included with the welcome letter. We don’t need money.”

  “Get the fudge out of here. No! You’re fooling me again. I’m not buying what you’re throwing down, Mr—”

  “It’s true. I swear. I’ll take you for a spin around.”

  “We have a car?”

  He chuckles. “No, but we do have a golf buggy.”

  “Do not.”

  “Do so. Why do you think everything I’m telling you is BS?”

  “Because you seem like a bit of a trickster. I can tell that pulling pranks would be right up your alley.”

  He laughs. “Well, what I’ve said is the truth. I guess you’ll need to see it for yourself to believe it.” Arlie rocks on his heels, comfortable and not at all looking guilty. “I might leave you to unpack.”

  “You can stay and chat if you want to. I don’t mind.”

  “If you're sure?”

  “Yes. You’ve probably been lonely if you’ve been the only occupant on the island for the past two days.”

  “It wasn’t bad, but the conversation was extremely lagging. There are only so many times I could answer myself back before it became weird and borderline insane.”

  I snort. “Well, settle in then and tell me some more about yourself while I put my stuff away.” I throw the suitcase up onto the mattress, then pull it towards me until it rests against the edge of the bed.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “What about your niece? The one who makes you smell like ginger when you bake. The only niece you have.”

  His lips tug upwards. “Okay. Well, I can tell you she wasn’t thrilled I was going on holidays.”

  “I could imagine she wouldn’t have been.”

  Arlie treads around the left side of the bed as I finish unzipping and opening my suitcase. He faces me before plonking himself against the mattress.

  I gasp. No! I reach out my arms to attempt to catch the flying missile but miss. I wrap my hand over my mouth and muffle a scream. “Oh, fuck! Why, CHRIS? Why?” I yell behind my palm.

  The rainbow-coloured dildo lands flat-end down, tip-end up. It sways like a bowling pin on the cusp of falling over, but it doesn’t. It remains erect and at attention on the carpet below.

  Please God, strike me down with a bolt of electricity. A heart attack … I’ll take a heart attack right about now. My heart pounds hard enough for it to happen.

  I stare at the vibrator, then slowly rotate my head towards Arlie who’s now crawled across the bed. He’s knelt on all fours like a dog beside my suitcase. I follow the direction of his eyes and pray he’s either suddenly blind, or for my quick and timely death to arrive.

  “What were the chances of your prick stick launching out of your luggage at the same time I threw myself on the bed? I wouldn’t have thought high until now. That’s insane.”

  I’m horrified. My stomach launches into my chest and up my airway. I don’t know what to do or say, so I do what any woman in my position would do. I race towards the rogue piece of equipment and swing my foot back, kicking it, launching it like a stiff torpedo towards the pulled curtains in hope they’ll swallow it whole in the way a deep-throating professional would.

  This doesn’t happen. Instead, the torpedoing dildo bashes into the frame of the glass sliding doors where we just parted the curtains and comes hurtling back in my direction. I scream. I leap up onto the bed, then fall, landing on Arlie’s back. My arms wrap around his body for dear life, like if I didn’t hold on to him, the dildo would go on attack. We both tumble to the bed in a heap. Arlie chortles.

  “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I’m on the brink of tears when I attempt to roll off the back of the man I was honestly entertaining the possibility of a relationship with. Well, that dream’s gone down the shitter, no thanks to Chris and the eight speeds of pleasure he obviously stuffed inside my suitcase before I even left the apartment.

  I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill Chris the moment I lay eyes on his stupid face.

  “Are you okay?” Arlie chokes out between his hysterical rumblings.

  “I’m stuck.” My voice shakes. My throat tightens farther when impending tears roll up, knocking on my tear-duct door. “The suitcase is in my way. I can’t roll over it, and your leg has mine pinned so I can’t sit up.”

  “Don’t move,” he says before untangling his leg from mine. With a loud huff expelling from his lips, he rolls underneath me, and I flop like a sausage against his chest.

  My entire body weight rests on top of Arlie as his eyes find mine.

  “I’m so sorry.” Apologising is all I can think to do.

  “Melinda! Are you often that rough with things replicating the male appendage?”

  A tear rushes down my cheek.

  “Hey! Don’t cry. It’s okay.” His thumb swipes my tear away as he keeps his eyes on mine.

  “I-I-I …” I stutter “I’m …” I don’t say another word, because without warning or notice of his intentions, Arlie presses his full lip
s against mine.

  Arlie kisses me in the most embarrassing moment of my life, and I’m left brainless. At first, my mouth remains unmoving, but soon his lips become so enticing I find myself kissing him back. Every swirl of his tongue in my mouth has our kiss deepening, and I know it needs to end, but I don’t want to stop kissing Arlie because it feels so right it can’t be wrong.

  He wraps his arms tightly around me and moulds his body into mine. There’s so much passion at this moment I feel as though my heart will explode. Our limbs entwine, and soon, Arlie rolls over with me in his arms until his lips pull away and he’s left looking down on me.

  This is where it needs to stop, Mindy. You need to stop this now. Slow and steady wins the race, not fast and furious. My mind is screaming, but my heart soars.

  Arlie lowers his mouth towards mine.

  “Stop,” I whisper.

  He pulls himself away. His eyes disappear. His lips go, too.

  What do I do now?

  Chapter Nineteen

  One large room. A vibrator lying on the carpeting in front of me, and one massive and embarrassing moment playing over and over in my mind.

  Tears flood my face as I sit alone on the bed beside my belongings, not at all disappointed Arlie hightailed it out of here the moment I said to stop. I would have too if I were him. I bet he’s already on a boat back to civilization, and I’ll become the heroine of the dildo girl story he’ll tell his friends about in years to come.

  How could he possibly leave this deserted island without a craft to do so? That would be with the use of a get-out-of-jail-free card, the very cards I was informed of before I came to Heart Key. “You can leave whenever you want. All you need to do is hold up your out card and say, ‘I’m leaving paradise’.” It’s what Susan said.

  Where do I find one of these cards? Because I need to leave this place too. As it is, I can already imagine the headlines with my name on them.

  Melinda Grant: Screw up. Fuck up. Everything that can go wrong will. Good or bad, she’ll find a way to make it worse.

  Why did Arlie kiss me? Why did he have to do such a thing? I close the lid of my suitcase, zip it back up, and pull it off the bed.