by Belle Brooks
How could I spend my birthday here after what’s happened? I can’t.
I take the oversized white hat in one hand, and the handle of my suitcase in the other before I walk out the bedroom door. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable. It’s like pulling off a fucking Band-Aid—best done quick and fast. Whatever’s festering underneath this sore, I’ll deal with later. Right now, my only focus is leaving this island as quickly as possible.
I reach the top of the staircase and halt when I spot Arlie standing at its bottom. He’s all red-faced and blotchy. I guess he’s been out for a run, considering the workout gear and sneakers he’s wearing.
His eyes narrow. His stance becomes rigid. “What the fuck, Melinda?” His eyes narrow farther. His nostrils flare. He glares at me. “You’re leaving? You’re not even going to give me a chance to—”
“I have to go.”
“Run? You need to run away?”
“No. That’s not …”
“It’s what you’re doing, though. You’re running away.” Arlie jogs halfway up the stairs, but stops, maintaining a distance between us.
“I’m not. This isn’t going to work, and I’m wasting your time.”
“Says who?”
“Me!”
“I don’t get a say?”
“I don’t even know you,” I snap.
“So you won’t even give yourself the chance to get to know me?”
“No.”
“I really like you,” he confesses. “Like, a lot.” Arlie places his hands on either hip. “I don’t kiss any girl. I hope you know.”
“I didn’t say you did.” I squeeze my lips together and grunt. “Look, it’s not you, it’s me.”
“Really? You’re going to pull out the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line?”
“Arlie, if there were lots of girls here, trust me, you wouldn’t even be kissing me. You’d have your mouth all over some skinny minnie who has a tramp stamp and legs that stretch up under her armpits.” I huff. “You’re only fond of me because of the island and the fact there’s only two of us here.”
Arlie cocks his eyebrows high on his forehead. “Nice! Okay, well you’ve made up your mind it seems.”
“Arlie, like, have you seen yourself in the mirror? Have you?”
“Yes!” he shouts unexpectedly, causing me to jolt. “Why are you so hung up on looks? Do you want to know why I stay in shape?”
I don’t answer.
“I work out because I’ve been doing so since the year after my mother passed. It’s what kept me out of the trouble I found myself spiralling into. It’s what kept me focused and took away my anger. It’s what continues to keep me on the straight and narrow.”
I place my hand on my chest. Arlie’s mum dying.
“I don’t do it for appearances or to score pussy; I do it for me. It’s good for me.”
Anger burns like a flaming red sword stabbing through my stomach. I’m mad, but I’m not mad at Arlie. I’m mad at myself.
“You haven’t even given yourself a chance to get to know me. You haven’t even—”
“Do you want to know why I run?” I interrupt. “Do you want to know why it’s what I need to do?”
Arlie nods.
“Fine, I’ll tell you.” I drop my hand away from the suitcase and take one step down. “I run because it’s what I do to survive. I’m not a doctor anymore because I killed someone. There, now you know. I killed someone in my job, and I live with the guilt of that every single day. Running works for me. If I take off before anyone gets hurt, then I’m doing myself and that person a service. Let me spare you from me.”
“So you are running away?”
“No. I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” Arlie takes one step towards me.
“I’m not,” I say, stepping down.
“You are.” Arlie stomps his foot to the next step.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you fucking are.” He grabs my waist and pulls my body against his. “Don’t run,” he whispers against my lips. “Stay and see where this is going.”
I brush my lips across Arlie's as his hand moves up my spine until his fingers tangle in my hair.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says.
“Uh-huh.”
And when his mouth takes mine, all my fears melt away as my body moulds against his.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Today is my birthday. I’m thirty. Thirty. And the task we’ve been given is to hike to the top of Mount Serendipity or, as I like to refer to it, Boob Mountain. I’m assuming it’s the boob we’re about to scale, the one I laid in bed gazing at this morning after Arlie left my side and took his cradling arms with him. I could be wrong, though; there are so many mountains surrounding this little paradise hideaway.
Last night was the first time I’ve ever slept in a bed with a man while sober … well, a man who wasn’t Chris. It felt incredibly good just to be held.
When Arlie suddenly left hours ago, I felt lost and needed to be resting against his body once more. I stare at the mountain, waiting for him to return. He doesn’t. Where is he? Does he even know today is a day of celebration? That it’s the day of my birth?
I climb out of bed. I huff, then groan; I don’t like hiking or any outdoorsy-type activities, so I think a sudden-onset illness is about to overcome me, one that renders me incapable of mountain climbing, and one that keeps sex well and truly off the table until I leave this island. The last thing I need is to find myself in a place where Miss Priscilla battles with my logic, and if Arlie and I continue to sleep in the same bed each night, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my pasty-looking dinner roll quiet.
Arlie’s more delicious than any sweet treat. Arlie’s cake for my snatch.
I grab the towel hung over the end of the bed and drag my feet down the hallway. I need to pee so bad that my bladder feels like it might burst. The only place I can go is in the en suite inside Arlie’s bedroom.
The bathroom: A hike of its own when you have a tiny bladder and a mile to trot.
Fancy gold taps, marble tiling and flooring … it’s a bathroom straight out of a billionaire’s magazine. We’re still yet to find the door allowing access to it from within my room, the door we both went in search of last night. Maybe my room just didn’t come with one full stop. The only way for me to bathe on this level is to gain access through the room Arlie’s occupying.
I reach the open entry of the bedroom that’s decorated in blues and silver. My stomach roils like a tidal wave. What if he’s back and in the bathroom? What if he’s naked? Or worse, what if he’s rubbing one out with Mrs Palmer and her five daughters?
There’s been a lot of sexual tension between us. It would take a highly statured virgin priest not to recognise its velocity, and I hear men like to destress by masturbating. Well, it’s what my reliable source Chris tells me anyway. Chris should know, he owns a spout, and he’s also man meat for other man meat.
“Hello,” I call out like a nosy neighbour as I peek my head around the doorframe and scan the room. No Arlie. “Arlie, are you in here?” I say, treading quietly. Again, no answer.
Every step I take is hesitant. I’m waiting for this hunky man to appear out of thin air and scare the crap out of me due to his sudden presence. He doesn’t.
At least I don’t have to do my morning business knowing he’s close by. I’m such a nervous pooper. The thought of anyone residing within hearing distance makes my butthole pucker, and my arse cheeks snap together like a vise. This morning, when I sit on that loo, I will poo freely and without worry. I reach for the toilet spray kept on a shelf above the loo.
Placing the towel on the triple-bowel basin, I tiptoe to the toilet and put the spray down on the floor beside me. I’m not sure if my body’s waste will stink, but last night I ate garlic, and garlic is like a vampire’s kryptonite to my bowels. The last thing I need right now is to pong up
this entire area and find myself further traumatised by my time here at Heart Key.
I shuffle down my pyjama bottoms and let them fall to my ankles. I sit on a seat that’s regulated to a perfect temperature. Who knew toilet seats came with temperature controls? Not me. But Arlie explained what all the buttons on the tiles behind me meant when I got my first glimpse of this glorious space.
Sitting on the loo, I let my mind roam. Hiking adventure! More like unnecessary heart strain, stinky sweat, and muscle pain. How do I get out of this without using one of my get-out-of-jail-free cards? I come up with no plausible solution as I scan the considerable space surrounding me. When my vision stops on the jacuzzi, my thoughts shift from hiking to bathing. I’m quick to decide that tonight I’ll soak in the tub.
Today’s my birthday, and I may as well start my thirties off on a high. Tonight, I’ll relax in a jacuzzi built for ten.
Reaching for the toilet paper has me shifting my attention to the screen of a television taking up a significant portion of the wall space in front of me. Who needs a television in the bathroom? It puzzles me. I won’t be waste vacating and watching, that’s for sure, but maybe I could enjoy a little viewing pleasure from the jacuzzi. Now there’s a thought.
With toilet paper in hand, I reach between my legs, but before I have a chance to wipe, I freeze. There’s no warning, no sound of someone approaching, but when Arlie suddenly bursts through the door at a fast pace, my heart launches into my throat.
“Morning. How’d you sleep?” He looks right at me.
Holy fuck! What is he doing? Can’t he see I’m on the toilet doing my business? Why is he talking to me?
“Good.” My voice rattles. “You?”
“Yeah, great. I needed a good night’s sleep after the one before it.”
“Oh.”
He places his hands out in front of him, waving them. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. It’s not your fault I didn’t …” He stops speaking. “I’m putting my foot in my mouth. I’ll stop.”
“Um, so, I’m kind of, you know, using the loo.”
“I saw. Don’t mind me. I’m going to wash up.” Arlie rips his shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor. He places his thumbs into the top of his shorts.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. No! Stop. Leave your pants on.”
“Huh?” His face scrunches tight. He seems puzzled by my outburst.
“Me, girl. You, boy. Me, on the loo. You, getting naked. Big problem.” I speak to him like I’m Tarzan because Arlie’s behaviour replicates that of an uncivilised caveman.
“Oh shit! Of course. Sorry.” He removes his thumbs from his waistband. “What was I thinking? I’m so used to living with the lads.” He places his palm into the middle of his forehead. “I can’t believe I just did that. Let me know when you’re done.”
“O-k-a-y!” I draw out the word as he races out the way he entered.
What the hell?
Clutching the can of spray in hand, I mist the air with the scent of lavender. I cough when I inhale a deep breath that tastes like poisoned toilet spray. Too much! I’ve sprayed too much! I wipe, pull up my pants and flush.
“I’m going to take a shower.” I cough through the haze of chemicals that are still present. It’s all I can do to communicate my intentions with Mr Loo Peeper.
“Did you call for me?” He opens the door.
“Um. Yeah, no. I was letting you know I’m going to bathe real quick.”
“Okay!” He grins, but it’s not his usual cheeky grin. It’s more like a hungry, needy expression.
“So, that means you leave.”
“I know.” He doesn’t move. He stares.
I wave my hand in the air in front of me. “Hello?”
“You’re really pretty in the morning.”
I dart my head back. I bite my lip, trying to prevent the broad smile taking ownership of my face.
“Yeah, pretty,” he says, as if talking to himself, as he takes a step forward.
“You’re pretty in the morning, too,” I say in this very awkward situation. But I’m not lying. Even with sweat dripping from his brow, he’s a vision.
Arlie suddenly curtseys, which causes me to laugh. “Have a good shower. I’ll jump in after you.”
Ask him to join you? My head jerks back again. “I’m not asking him to join me. That’s wrong on so many levels.”
Arlie turns. “What did you say?”
“Join me,” I blurt out before swallowing hard. My heart races. My legs shake. My stomach fills with a million butterflies. What the hell is wrong with me?
Arlie cocks one eyebrow, then licks his lips most seductively.
I’m petrified, excited, overwhelmed—I’m a ball of emotion, and I’m not sure which one of the many feelings bouncing around my insides will win and project in my expression.
Arlie swaggers towards me. His eyes do not leave mine. He stops short of my trembling legs. Long fingers move in my direction … long fingers that are clearly shaking.
Arlie’s shaking. Why?
His hand splays across my back as he pulls my body gently to his. Arlie’s lips brush against my temple. “Are you sure?”
My throat instantly becomes bone dry as my heart thrums out of control. I can’t find words, so I nod against him.
“I have a confession,” he says breathlessly. “I’ve not had sex in more than two years.”
I’m instantly smiling.
“So, Melinda, this won’t become sexual. We’re only taking a shower together, okay?”
That works for me. I nod again.
“If we do, you know, get physical, I’d like for it to be special ... memorable.”
I melt into Arlie Blight. He’s a dream: funny, kind, polite, gentle, caring, and so fucking gorgeous. “Just a shower.” My voice rattles.
“Just a shower,’ he repeats, letting me go and taking a step back.
I’m scared to break eye contact or even move when his head bobbles slightly. His subtle movements are enough to tell me he’s no longer wearing any clothing.
He gazes deep into my eyes. “Do you bathe with your clothes on?”
I mechanically shake my head.
“Do you need help?”
I bite my lower lip.
His pupils grow. The blue of his eyes darkens.
I nod.
One step, two steps … his fingertips skirt my arms, causing me to shiver. His eyes leave mine when he runs his hand over my stomach. The material of my shirt lifts, causing me to shake even more.
Arlie’s hands tremble against my skin when he slowly, carefully pulls my shirt upwards until everything disappears from my sight. As quickly as his image vanishes, it reappears, and I’m suddenly standing topless. “Are you okay?” he says in a hush.
“Uh-huh,” I breathe.
I squirm to my right, then my left when his fingertips skim my sides before they still at the top of my shorts waistband.
“Keep your eyes on mine,” he whispers.
I hold my breath. My mind is vacant of thought, yet I still can’t seem to draw a breath.
It’s a flash of time which no longer exists that has me completely naked. Arlie, too, is in a complete state of undress, and I can’t undo this decision now. For the first time in a long time, I’ve decided I don’t want to change my mind anyway.
I want Arlie Blight. No matter how long it takes for us to arrive at a place of togetherness, I know I need this guy in my life.
Arlie takes my hand and helps me under the warm running water that sprays down from the faucet above me. I turn my body away from his and face a window that’s inside the shower. Gentle waves rolling in to shore becomes my view as my heart hammers in my chest.
“Are you okay?” he says softly.
“Yes,” I say quietly.
“Would you like me to wash your back?”
I nod as I catch water in my palms and wipe it over my face.
“Good.”
The soap is smooth as Arlie rubs small c
ircles against my back. His touch is gentle. The smell of coconut wafts around me.
“Hmm.”
“It feels good?”
“So good.” I drop my head and look at the tiles below.
“I’m glad.”
I’m not sure how long Arlie runs his hands over my skin, but when he stops, I feel a sense of loss.
I like Arlie touching me as much as I like touching him.
“Would you like me to wash your back?” My voice becomes hoarse on asking.
“Please.”
I turn, expecting Arlie to have his back to me, but he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes await mine.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.” I smile, trying so hard not to turn my vision down to what’s between his legs. I fail, then suck a breath of air in, trapping it in my throat. I immediately take sex completely off the table. Arlie’s endowed.
I bite my lower lip as I lift my chin.
“The body wash.” Arlie’s grin is unmistakeable.
“Thank you.” My hands shake when I take the bottle from him.
Squeezing a small amount into my palm, I snake my other hand still holding the bottle around Arlie’s waist. “Can you put this on the ledge please.”
“Sure.”
I rub my hands together then slowly place them onto his back. My movements almost become rhythmic as I work a lather against his skin. The smell of coconut is now stronger. I move down lower, and lower until my fingers brush over his birthmark.
Arlie drops his head. I lower my hand further.
I jolt when Arlie grabs my wrist and turns into me.
“I like you washing me.”
“I like washing you,” I say breathless.
“I’m glad.”
And without warning, his lips connect with mine.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Why did Chris have to remove my fucking boardshorts? What am I going to wear on this hike?
I stand in the wardrobe, pulling items of clothing from my suitcase before folding them and putting them away.
The large shelving and deep coves remain relatively empty, but at least a few items are now filling some of the space.
I can’t run away from Arlie. I no longer want to, so I may as well unpack.
