Auctioned to Him 3: Back to the Yacht

by Charlotte Byrd

  “No, I don’t think so. In fact, I think you’re response was probably quite appropriate given the circumstances.”

  We both start laughing. It’s too ridiculous not to. A part of me is shocked that we’re actually laughing about it so soon. I was sure that it would be years before I could laugh about this. And yet, here we are.

  As we laugh, our bodies move closer and closer. I’m not sure how it happens, but suddenly, I find myself right next to his face. I look up at him, surprised. Tristan doesn’t look so surprised. His eyes sparkle. He licks his lips. He touches my chin and lifts it up, bringing my lips closer to his.

  “Tristan,” I whisper.

  “Alice.”

  “What are you doing?” He looks down at my lips and then back to my eyes.

  “You know what I’m doing.”

  “No, we can’t,” I say, pulling away from him.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because. Because you know why.”

  Now, I’m getting angry. Does he really not know why? I look at him. He stares at me dumbfounded.

  “Because I’m going home to LA. And you’re going to the Bay Area. We won’t see each other for a long time. You’re going to be here for school next year and I’m going to go to USC.”

  “So?” he asks.

  “So? I don’t want to kiss you and then spend the summer wondering what the hell it means. I want to move on from this Tristan. I can’t keep doing this.”

  “What if I don’t want you to move on?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I want to be with you, Alice. I want to try again.”

  I look at him. He looks earnest. Set in his decision. But I’m not.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t,” I say, getting out of bed. “I don’t think this…this thing between us can work. It’s too complicated.”

  “I love you, Alice.”

  He walks over to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. A few loose strands of hair fall into his beautiful face. It takes all of my strength I have not to just lean over and kiss him.

  “I love you, Alice. Do you love me?”

  I don’t reply for a moment. I could lie. But I don’t.

  “Yes, I love you, too.”

  “So? What more do we need?”

  “It’s not enough, Tristan. I know the Beatles say that it’s all you need, but I need more. At least now.”

  I walk out of the room as quickly as I can because tears are already flowing down my face. I can’t stop them. I don’t even try. I just hope that he doesn’t catch up to me and see them. And another part of me hopes that he does. I want him to wipe them away and say that no matter what, everything will be okay.

  But Tristan doesn’t follow me. I get to the elevator and ride down to the ground floor. It’s May and New York is in full bloom. The streets are crowded with people in t-shirts and shorts. Everyone seems to be running, bicycling, or walking their dogs. I run down to Riverside Park. I need to be alone, but that’s pretty much impossible in this city. All I can ask for is to be somewhere where no one knows me. Strangers here don’t make it a policy to comfort strangers.

  With tears running down my face, I run until I reach the fence separating me from the Hudson River. I stand there watching the river flow by and letting my tears flow with abandon until twilight falls.

  Chapter 31

  I don’t see Tristan at the bar that night. I keep waiting for him to come by. I have my act all ready to go, but he doesn’t show up. Dylan and Juliet are clearly disappointed and somewhat angry at me. They’re even upset the following day while I’m stuffing the last of my stuff into the few available spaces that I still have left in my bags.

  “You know what I’m not going to miss about you?” Dylan says, lying on the couch. “All the drama that you and Tristan had this year.”

  “Hey, why is that all on me?” I ask. “It’s him, too.”

  “It’s him, too. Except that while you show up after you two have drama, he doesn’t.”

  “That’s on him, too,” Juliet says, taking my side.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  I look at my phone. I have to leave for the airport in less than twenty minutes. But I still haven’t seen Tristan.

  “Where is he?” I turn to Juliet. “I haven’t seen him since last night.”

  She shrugs.

  “Dylan?”

  He looks down to the floor. I can see that he’s hiding something and that he’s sorry about it.

  “What?” I ask. “What’s is it?”

  “I think he left already,” he says quietly.

  “What?”

  “But he didn’t say bye to me!” Juliet explodes and then catches herself. “Or Alice.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Dylan shrugs. “I thought that he had said his goodbyes earlier. I didn’t think he would just leave like that. But he left about an hour ago while you two were still at brunch.”

  I feel tears start to build up in my eyes. Why? Why did he have to do this? I try to blink to make them stop and manage to hold a few back. Juliet gives me a big warm hug. I sob a little into her shoulder.

  “Please don’t ruin my shirt with your wetness,” she jokes.

  “I promise,” I say, even though I’m pretty sure there’s already a clear impression of my wet face on her shirt.

  After that, our goodbyes are short. I can’t wait to get out of there. The naked walls and the forlorn looks make me sick to my stomach. Dylan and Juliet help me downstairs with my bags. I give each of them a brief hug and promise to come back soon. Juliet brings the Hamptons up and again I promise to think about it. Though at this point, I want to put as many miles between New York and me as soon as possible and never look back. I need to get away from here. Maybe then I can forget about everything that has happened.

  I hail a cab. When the cab pulls away from the curb, I finally let all of my tears flow freely down my face. The cab driver looks at me through the mirror and quickly darts his eyes when he sees my tears. Too bad. There’s nothing I can do to stop them. They just keep coming and coming. I finally manage to get a hold of myself somewhere near the Bronx. La Guardia Airport is still a bit away.

  I take a deep breath. It’s okay, I say to myself. If this is what he wanted then this is what it is. I guess I’ll never see him again. At least, not for a really long time. And that’s fine. I got over him before; I’ll get over him again. Thank God I never did kiss him the other night. Otherwise, this would be unbearable.

  And then, as we wait for the light to turn green at one intersection, my sorrow suddenly turns to anger. No, you know what, fuck Tristan. How dare he do this to me? All I said was that I didn’t want a relationship with him again and he just leaves? Without a goodbye? Without even a see ya later? You deserve better than that Alice. A lot better.

  When we finally get to the airport, I get out of the cab with a newfound confidence. My tears have all dried up and I’m forcing myself to look forward to a new chapter in my life. Summer in Southern California. There are worst places to go home to. I’m looking forward to the beach, surfing, drinking too much sangria in some Malibu beachside café, and driving a little too recklessly through the winding Topanga Canyon with the top down. It’s going to be fun. You’ll see.

  After I pay the cab driver, I don’t bother to get a cart and instead choose to struggle with four large bags all by myself. The ticket counter isn’t far; I can see it from here. I don’t need a cart. But then I quickly realize that I do. Otherwise, I have to keep dropping my enormous bags off one by one a few feet away from me and go back for the others. I can’t very well leave them entirely by themselves as I get in line out of fear of getting one of them confiscated and examined by the airport police.

  As I fumble with my bags during one of these mini-trips on my way to the check-in line, I hear someone say my name.

  “Alice.”

  At first, I think they must be talking to someone else. I’m not expecting to see anyone I know here. So
I ignore the voice and keep making little trips for all of my bags.

  “Alice!” the man’s voice says louder. “Alice!”

  When I finally get all of my bags to the place where the check-in line begins, I am covered in sweat and out of breath. I turn toward the direction where the voice is coming from and see…Tristan.

  “Tristan?” I ask cautiously. I am actually so physically and emotionally drained that I don’t quite believe my eyes. I am seeing bright spots all over the place; maybe the Tristan before me is also a figment of my imagination.

  “Alice,” he says again. He’s dressed in a casual pair of jeans, a plain t-shirt, and he’s holding a bouquet of daffodils – my absolute favorite flowers. His hair falls slightly into his eyes and he pushes it out of the way with his free hand.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “These are for you,” he says. He hands me the daffodils and I can’t help but inhale their sweet scent. They smell of hope and springtime.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “Alice, I’ve thought a lot about what you said yesterday. And I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re wrong.”

  “I’m wrong?”

  “Yes. That happens sometimes, you know,” he jokes. “Alice, I want you back. I want to be with you. I love you. And love is all we need. What else is there that matters?”

  “But how is that going to work?” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “You’re going home to the Bay Area…”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not,” he says. He tilts his head, exposing a mischievous smile.

  I stare at him. I have no idea what he means.

  “I’m coming back to LA with you. On the same flight as you,” he says, holding up his ticket as proof.

  I don’t believe what he says. I look into his eyes. It feels like minutes pass before anyone speaks again. He gives in first.

  “I’m going to live in my parents’ old house in Calabasas.”

  He lived in that house since he was born until his senior year in high school when his parents moved to the Bay Area. It’s only fifteen minutes away from my parents’ house. It’s a place where we made a million memories. It’s a place that I will always associate with being his home.

  “I thought they had sold it,” I say slowly.

  “No, they just rented it out. They owned it for so long that they barely had a mortgage on it. And you know Calabasas, the prices went through the roof. They’re getting a ton of money for it in rent.”

  I don’t know why he’s telling me all of these details when all I care about is why he’s going back to the LA area.

  “Anyway.” Tristan catches himself babbling. “You don’t care about any of that. The only thing that’s important is that the renters just moved out and they were going to put it back on the market, but I asked them if I could stay there for the summer.”

  “So, you’re coming back home?” I ask. The word “home” feels both strange and familiar in my mouth. I don’t mean to say it, but Tristan just smiles at me and gives me a wink.

  “Yes, I’m coming back home.”

  He comes a few steps closer to me.

  “That way you don’t have to worry about us being apart this summer, Alice. I want to be with you and I want to spend the summer with you. I love you.”

  I inhale slowly. For some reason, tears start to well up in my eyes.

  “I thought that you had left without saying goodbye,” I whisper. “I was so mad at you.”

  One lonely tear rolls down my cheek. Tristan takes me into his arms. He wipes my cheek with his thumb. His touch sends a warm sensation throughout my body.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m such a jerk.”

  “You are,” I say. “But I am, too.”

  Slowly, he bends his neck forward. Our lips are so close together that our breaths intertwine. He smells of mint and lavender.

  “I love the way your hair smells,” he whispers. “Honey.”

  I smile. It’s my new shampoo.

  We stare into each other’s eyes. Everyone else in the airport ceases to exist completely. I feel like we’re in one of those scenes in the movies where the whole world spins around the couple and the couple stands still.

  And then, just when I can’t wait any longer, Tristan slowly presses his lips onto mine and the whole world explodes in a wild array of colors.

  “So, what do you say?” he asks through the kiss. I pull away from him to look into his eyes.

  “About what?” I ask, trying to be coy. But the huge smile on my face is exposing my true feelings.

  “Will you take me back, Alice Summers? I find myself unable to live without you.”

  I make him suffer for a moment. And then say, “Yes.”

  Tristan grabs me by the waist and spins me round and round. My feet leave the ground and I feel like I’m a bird, flying high above the clouds. When I finally come back to earth, Tristan gives me one more kiss, takes my hand, and we head toward the check-in line.

  Epilogue

  Two weeks later – Malibu, California

  * * *

  Carrying two smoothies – mango yogurt and green ginger peach – I make my way back from the smoothie truck toward our spot on the beach. The sand feels warm and relaxing under my bare feet. Warm breeze toys with my summer dress, making the skirt fly up and exposing my little yellow polka dot bikini bottoms. The sky is so high it doesn’t even come close to touching the cliffs of Santa Monica Mountains above me. There isn’t a single cloud in the sky.

  The sun is bright and hot and the beach is filled with people on multi-colored blankets. White waves rush toward me, tossing boogie boarders in the surf. Somewhere in the distance, where the water is blue, I see a lone figure sitting on his surfboard.

  Tristan.

  A second later, he takes on a wave like an expert, dipping his long green board along the waves. He rides one long wave all the way to the edge of the sand. He walks out of the water, holding his board to one side. His gorgeous tan body glistens in the sun accentuating each chiseled muscle. A few steps away from me, he tosses his hair, exposing his sparkling eyes.

  “Hey babe,” he says, dropping the board and wrapping his wet arm around me. I’m burning up – not just from the summer heat – and the coolness of his body brings me relief.

  “Thanks for the smoothie,” he says, taking a sip. “It’s delicious.”

  “Anytime.”

  Tristan takes me into his arms and gives me a big kiss with his incredibly soft lips.

  “Mmm, salty,” I say after the world around us stops spinning and I finally manage to pull away from him.

  After he finishes his smoothie, Tristan puts suntan lotion on my shoulders. His hands are strong and I close my eyes in pleasure. He takes extra care to make sure not to get suntan lotion into my hair.

  “You ready?” he asks after I take the last sip of my smoothie.

  “For what?”

  He pulls my sundress off.

  “For what?” I ask again, laughing.

  Tristan flashes a smile and winks mischievously. Then, before I know what’s going on, he pulls me up to my feet, tosses me into his arms, and carries me into the waves.

  * * *

  THE END

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  Indebted to Him (Book 2)

  **This is a Standalone NOVEL!

  When unemployed college graduate Annabelle receives a mysterious job offer from a company to which she has never applied to, she can't say no. But the job comes with a complication.

  Her boss is a sexy and arrogant soon-to-be billionaire playboy who always gets what he wants. He likes to play games and he's keeping a secret: he's Annabelle's one and only one night stand.

>   As they get locked into a game of seduction, both are shocked to find themselves falling for each other...

  **WARNING: Steamy scenes, NO Cheating, HEA!

  Chapter 1

  I came here so that no one would hear me scream. The redwoods surrounding me are muffling my sobs. Birds are flying away frightened, and rabbits are running for their lives.

  I have been here for a few days already, all alone, surviving on energy bars and bags of dried fruit and nuts. I brought real food – dried soups and pasta – and a tiny camping stove for heating up food and water, but I just don’t have the energy for all that.

  I haven’t had much of an appetite in weeks, actually. Not since it happened. A part of me thought that my appetite might return here. But it hasn’t. Now, the forty-pound bag stuffed with all the food and supplies that I have no use for serves no purpose except to make my shoulders raw.

  But there’s nothing to do. I’m lost and angry and self-destructive, but not self-destructive enough to throw away food. I’m in the backcountry of the Yosemite National Park. I haven’t seen another human in four days. Who knows what awaits me in the five days to come. My supplies could mean the difference between life and death, and I am not throwing them away.

  * * *

  Looking down at my topographical map, I try to figure out how much longer it will take me to get to the lake. I have been hiking for five hours, and I want to get there before the sun dips below the horizon and the chill of the night returns. I haven’t had a shower in days, and I need to wash off the thick layer of dirt covering every inch of my body.

  According to where I think I am on the map, the lake is still about half an hour away. But I’m wrong… I take a few steps around the bend and see it right in front of me.