That Guy

by Belle Brooks

  Our shower together seems to have been a turning point for me. Perhaps it is due to Arlie’s subtle glances at my naked body, and the respectful way in which he did so. Maybe it’s because he treats me with a level of worship I’d always hoped I’d find in a guy. Or it’s very likely that I’m incredibly horny, and in love with the idea of possibly having a boyfriend at my sexual disposal for once. Quite frankly, it could be all three.

  “Hallelujah,” I huff when I locate the only pair of hiking-appropriate bottoms in my belongings. They’re not boardshorts, but they are knee-length capris.

  I clip my sports bra in place, throw on a surf T-shirt, and slip on my underwear and pants before I secure my feet into a pair of white sneakers. Blowing out a forceful breath, I fold at my mid-section, letting my hair dangle towards the floor until I gather it and tie the untamed locks into a ponytail.

  Tap, tap, tap, tap.

  “Melinda.”

  “I’m ready,” I say as I straighten to an upright position.

  The door opens. Arlie appears wearing a pair of loose-fitting basketball shorts and a muscle tee. He stands with both hands behind his back. “Stand in the middle of the room.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it ...” He pauses. “Please?”

  “Okay.” What is he up to?

  Unhurriedly, his hands appear. A pink iced cupcake with a love-heart candle rests in one of his palms. “Hang on.” He’s smiling when he exposes the lighter in his other hand.

  There’s a small flame burning at the top of the cupcake when Arlie closes the gap between us. “Happy thirtieth Birthday.”

  An ache fills my chest. It’s not painful or upsetting. It’s an ache brought on by an explosion of happiness. He did know!

  “I made a bunch of these cupcakes this morning. There are plenty more where this one came from.”

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I wanted to. I was going to wake you up with one when I got done and went for my run, but, you know, I walked in on you, and then the shower stuff …” His big white teeth shine between his stretched lips.

  “Thank you. You’re very thoughtful.” I’m smiling so big my cheeks burn.

  Arlie hands me the cupcake. Pink icing is smoothed over the top of a vanilla base. It’s perfect.

  “Blow out the candle and make a wish.”

  I suck back a breath and circle my lips, but before I get a chance to blow out the dancing flame Arlie sings “Happy Birthday” to me.

  Arlie can hold a tune. It’s apparent he can bake. Is there anything this man can’t do?

  The flame is extinguished by my breath, and Arlie’s quick to pluck the candle from the cupcake. After days of not consuming any sugar, I pull back the paper like a ravenous wolf and take a significant bite. “So good. Do you want some?”

  He nods.

  I hold out the remnants of the cake, and Arlie’s quick to chew a chunk away. “You better finish that. You’re going to need energy for this climb,” he mumbles, licking icing from his finger.

  The mountain. Do I have to do it?

  We didn’t even get a prize for yesterday’s task, so why even bother?

  ***

  I was wrong. We’re not hiking Boob Mountain. We’re climbing a winding track on a much smaller slope.

  “We’re halfway.” Arlie seems in his element as we tread along a dirt track.

  I feel the life draining out of me as I hunch at my midsection and suck back a needy breath before straightening my shoulders in time to come face-to-face with a massive spiderweb. I hate spiderwebs, spiders, bugs, twigs … I hate everything to do with bushwalking, but I manage to manoeuvre around the web’s sticky strands and rein in my need to scream at its presence.

  “Do you need another drink?” Arlie’s barely puffing.

  I, on the other hand, am huffing like I’ve knocked back a few bongs, and smoke is squeezing my lungs, holding them for ransom from oxygen.

  “You’ll get dehydrated on a walk like this if you don’t keep replenishing your fluids.”

  I don’t disagree and take the water bottle from Arlie’s outstretched hand. I suck from the spout in the same way I apparently did from my mother’s breast at the age of two: like a crack whore.

  “Let’s keep going,” Arlie chimes, upbeat and relaxed. I hand him back the water bottle.

  This mountain will be the death of me. I declare it to be named The Life Snatcher because lord knows I’m going to drop dead before we make it to the top.

  My heart is pounding as my mind screams for me to pull up stumps and never, ever move again. The sensation ripping down my thighs can only be compared to a million hands twisting violent Chinese burns against my skin. Yep! I’m going to die here.

  “Are you ready to keep going?”

  Nooooooooo! my brain cries. “Sure!” My lying tongue is a traitor. I continue to walk for what feels like hours even though it’s more likely minutes.

  “Watch out. After this bend, there’s a fallen branch; I can see it farther in front.” Arlie takes large strides. I’m barely shuffling.

  “Watch out for the branch, got ya,” I pant. I no longer have any saliva in my mouth.

  “We might take a break when we get back onto a straight path.”

  “Sounds good.” I gasp for air.

  Arlie slightly chuckles. I want to kick his backside for exposing his humour at my near-death experience, but that would mean I’d need to pick up the pace, and my leg to boot his butt, and that isn’t going to fucking happen.

  We round the bend. I barely scramble over the fallen branch he alerted me to. My feet are dragging, and Arlie’s getting farther and farther in front of me. I have no air. I can’t keep up. I need to stop.

  “Break time,” I bellow, falling to the ground and lying on my back, closing my eyes to shield them from the sun.

  There’s laughter, booming laughter, coming from above me.

  “Shut up,” I groan, thinking about cocktails and deck chairs laid out across white sand.

  “Just take some deep breaths. It’ll pass.”

  The feeling of death lurking? Or the pain in every part of my body, Arlie? What’s going to pass?

  “We’ll sit for a bit. Catch our breath. It’s not too far to go.”

  “We have to come back down, you realise.”

  Arlie laughs.

  “Stop laughing at me.”

  “You’re very cute when you groan and moan like you’re doing.”

  “You’re very fit and annoying,” I tease.

  “Noted.”

  I catch my breath. Arlie takes my hands, helping me into a seated position.

  “Have another drink,” he says, passing me the water bottle from the backpack he’s got slung to his front and is lugging up the mountain with us. “Watch the ground for ants. Those suckers can cause a nasty sting.”

  I spring to my feet. “Thank you.” My lips, mouth, and chalky tongue taste the sweet, sweet water when I drink as if I don’t my limbs will wither and fall off.

  Arlie sits across the path from me in front of some long strands of grass. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Mountain air. It’s so good for the lungs.”

  Fucking gloater. He can breathe. I can’t.

  I continue to sip from the water bottle and watch as Arlie’s eyes roam our surroundings. I drop my head to the ground below and find myself stuck in a long-drawn-out gasp. I choke on the water, then cough and splutter.

  “Are there bones in your water?” Arlie questions with humour in his tone.

  “Don’t move,” I choke out.

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t move.” My eyes bug from my head as I see the slippery sucker sliding in Arlie’s direction, poking out its tongue with a long hiss. “Snake,” I spit.

  “Snake? Where?”

  “Seriously, don’t move. It’s about to …” I squeal and use all my strength to fight away the urge to run.

  “Where is it?”

  “To your left. About
to slither onto your lap.”

  “Fuck,” he breathes, slowly rotating his head.

  “Oh God, it’s on your lap.”

  “I know. I can see it,” Arlie hisses through his visibly clinched teeth. “Fuck,” he curses again.

  “I’ll get a stick.”

  “No! Don’t move. Stay still.”

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  The snake slithers farther onto Arlie’s lap. It’s not a baby, not even a little brother- or sister-sized snake. It’s a big sucker, and its flat bowhead is now directly on top of Arlie’s man junk.

  “Are you hanging in there?” I’m not sure what else to say to a man who has a snake head perched on top of his cock.

  “I’ve had better days,” he groans.

  “Whatever you do, don’t move.”

  “No shit!” There’s fear in Arlie’s tone.

  I’m not sure how much time passes, but it feels like forever before this uninvited slippery critter completes its body drag across Arlie’s groin. As the last of the snake’s tail slides to the ground, Arlie remains still.

  “It’s gone,” I say.

  “Hang on.”

  The snake disappears into the brush, and with its vanishing act, Arlie suddenly leaps from the ground and runs towards me, smacking at his legs and flinging his arms around.

  I laugh. I can’t help it. This manly built man’s limbs are being flung every which way.

  “Stop laughing. Fucking snakes,” he scolds.

  I laugh harder.

  “It could have bitten my cock. Seriously, this isn’t funny.”

  I bend at my midsection with tears rushing down my cheeks.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  A loud, piercing scream explodes from my lips when Arlie lifts me from the ground unexpectedly. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re going too slow,” he says, moving me until I’m clinging to his back.

  “You can’t piggyback me to the top.”

  “You want to fucking bet? I’d rather that than get my dick bitten off by a hungry serpent.”

  Throwing my head back has my laughter returning.

  “Payback, Melinda. There’ll be some epic payback coming your way. You mark my words.”

  “Bring it on.”

  “Oh, it’s brought.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Arlie hikes to the top with me perched on his back just as he said he would. When we reach the peak of the mountain, my jaw drops, and my eyes bulge from their sockets. The view is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.

  Trees that line the shore as small as ants. The ocean is smaller than the mass number of hills surrounding it.

  “It’s definitely a boob.” Arlie laughs as I slide down his back, my feet again back on land. “Nipple and all. How about that?” He points to our right where the boob that once appeared the size of a B-cup is now as large as a D-cup.

  “Too funny.”

  “I wonder where the nose is?”

  I scan the rock faces and spot it to our left. I point in its direction. “There.”

  There is a lot of shrubbery in the fissures that make up the rock formation’s nostrils.

  “Nose hair,” we blurt out simultaneously in laughter.

  Crack, crack, crack.

  I flick my head to my right. Did a branch just break? A man wearing a bright red baseball cap appears from the bushes like a peeping Tom, holding a big video camera.

  The television show. I forgot again. How do I keep forgetting I’m here being filmed?

  “Do you want to race me to the bottom?” Arlie wiggles his eyebrows.

  “No! No, I don’t.” Is Arlie insane?

  “Come on.” Arlie points at the cameraman, who has obviously been following us. “It’ll be fun.”

  “Only if you carry me.”

  Arlie’s eyebrows lift high on his forehead. “Nope.”

  I half-heartedly laugh. “Spoilsport.”

  “Ready?”

  “Nope.”

  ***

  We return to the path in front of the house. I’m hot, sweaty, and still laughing from the tumble I took as I attempted to run down the side of the mountain. My knee has a graze, but other than that, I’m unscathed. Running down the hill of death was satisfying, even if it was exhausting.

  “A swim?” Arlie puffs as he folds at his midsection with his hands braced against his knees.

  “Yes! Oh, God, yes. I’m melting.”

  “It’ll have to be in your underwear because I’m not running back to the house to get you bathers unless you are?”

  “No. I’m too stuffed.”

  Arlie throws the backpack on the ground. He kicks off his shoes, I follow suit, and suddenly, he grabs my hand; without warning, we’re running again.

  When we reach the fine sand, I hop from foot to foot. The sand is hot beneath my feet. I continue to hop, skip, and jump on the spot as the sun shines in my eyes, causing me to twist away from its blinding rays.

  Arlie, too, is shifting from foot to foot in front of me as he rips his sweat-drenched shirt over his head. It takes not a second for him to drop his pants also.

  Arlie’s naked—stark naked. His arms are the size of tree trunks. His legs … well, he doesn’t skip leg day, that’s for sure. They’re huge.

  “Shit, I’m hot,” he groans.

  He is hot, but it’s not his body temperature I’m referring to. The sun is blistering, burning, and my own body is overheated to the point where I feel as though I’m in a sauna.

  “Are you coming?” Arlie’s arse doesn’t jiggle when he walks towards the calm ocean that barely contains ripples. “Are you coming?” he calls out a little farther down the beach.

  I am. In my knickers, because Arlie Blight has me on the verge of an orgasm just from the way he moves in his birthday suit down a long, white sandy beach.

  Happy birthday to me. “Coming,” I moan, frustrated.

  Arlie’s laughing by the time he reaches the edge of the water, and with his laughter, I hesitate for a moment before I impulsively decide to shed my panties too. Crossing my arms across my bust, I take off. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Running naked down a beach where cameras are filming. It’s so wrong yet liberating at the same time. The faster I reach the water, the less my feet burn and the less time I’m naked in public. I run into the ocean, and make sure to keep a distance between Arlie and me.

  The water is crystal clear, though, so the ocean offers no protection to my nakedness. Arlie must have the same realisation because when I flash my sight upwards, I see him staring at the water below. I know he’s looking at my body, and he's not discreet at all.

  I watch Arlie watching me. An overwhelming rush of hormones shoot down my throat and to my nether region. I bring my thighs together swiftly. Arlie’s lips curl upwards.

  I pant. I can’t help it. I want him so badly the throbbing between my legs intensifies.

  Arlie takes three steps towards me. My breath catches in my throat.

  “Melinda,” he says my name with a possessive growl.

  “Hmm?”

  “I want to kiss you.” His arm sweeps around my waist. He pulls my body against his chest. “I fucking want to kiss you so bad.” His lips are less than an inch from mine.

  I curl my arms around his neck. I press my breasts firmer against his chest.

  “Kiss me,” I beg.

  His lips are soft, full, and comforting when they press to mine. Every inch of my skin ignites with a desire I’ve never felt before. Arlie lifts me, and I instantly wrap my legs around his waist. His erection pulses against me. His mouth devours mine like he’s saying goodbye and he’ll never get to kiss me again.

  I can’t sleep with him. I want to sleep with him. I need to get out of the water.

  Our lips part. “Don’t run,” Arlie rushes in saying as he presses his forehead against mine.

  “I can’t …”

  “I’m not going to fuck you here. I just want you to let yo
ur muscles relax and be with me. I want you to trust me.”

  “Okay.” It’s almost inaudible.

  “Be with me. Promise that you won’t run.” He lifts his head. His gaze finds mine. “Be with me,” he repeats, tipping his head to the side and kissing my neck. He lifts me higher and kisses the fullness of my breast.

  “I’m with you,” I moan, clutching either side of his head and bringing his lips to mine.

  We make love in that ocean. Not love in its physical state, but in a way that speaks of an intense connection between two people unable to be fully controlled. I’ve fallen hard for Arlie Blight, so hard I fear I’ll never be able to run away from him even if I want to.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  We’re curled up on the lounge chair. Arlie reads from the very book he threw the day prior in our moment of passion here on this lounge.

  Was it the book that invoked our passion? Or is there a real love affair beginning to unfold between us?

  Am I going to finally find myself in a position where I’ll actually date a guy? Is Arlie my future boyfriend? My first boyfriend?

  As Arlie continues reading, every word he says tells me I never want to read another book for myself again. Who needs an audiobook when you have an Arlie Blight?

  Arlie’s voice. The words. Him. It’s perfect. He’s perfect. And right now, I think Arlie is, in fact, my perfect catch.

  He turns to the second to last page. Hugh and Delilah have sorted through the messy relationship that unfolded throughout the hundreds of pages prior, and I find myself hoping for a fairy-tale ending. I have a feeling, though, that this rollercoaster ride will complete with anything but. Chris never gave away the ending, but something in the way he spoke about this story has led me to think I won’t be happy with its conclusion.

  “Are you ready for the ending?” Arlie runs his fingers back and forward across my stomach.

  “I’m ready,” I breathe, not feeling ready at all.

  “Okay.” He continues. “Watching Delilah stand by the dresser, brushing her long locks each night, has me pinching myself. She’s a vision, angelic, pure … and she’s mine. How I’m going to last without her when I travel to New York next week, I can’t fathom. But we do need to part even though it’s only for seven days.