by Cherry Kay
“I took this chance of not checking your profile,” he said to her. “Just to be fair, because I didn’t want you to know about me, and vice versa. So, you’ve dated intellectuals, huh?”
She nodded. “Yeah. And you?”
“I dated someone for a few years. It didn’t end well either,” he said grimly.
“What was she like?” Caryn noticed that immediate change in his eyes, and his posture stiffened. She regretted asking that for a split-second, but hey, the past was the past, right?
He shook his head. “She’s nothing, just some figment from the past. Let’s talk about now, let’s talk about you. Tell me something random about yourself.”
Caryn felt compelled to tell him some little truth about herself. She was sure he could have done a background check on her, she was afraid that her ruse would be over too soon, but he stopped himself from doing so, out of respect and out of ego.
“My dad’s white, my mom’s black,” she said with a bit of hesitation. “They’re no longer together.” That part wasn’t a complete lie. Her mother had died not long after her father married someone else.
He nodded. “Go on.”
“What else is there to say?” she said, frowning. “What about you?”
“I’m the eldest child of a doctor and a former quarterback,” he admitted.
Caryn couldn’t help but laugh. “And here you were, trying to stereotype.”
“I thought I was close. Should’ve taken psychology classes,” he replied, his mood easing up. “Didn’t’ finish college, thought it was a waste.”
“Apparently, you were right,” she said, looking around the room.
“I did some things that were right, I guess…” his voice trailed off for a moment, and he looked deep in thought. “Where did you finish college?”
She wanted to bite her lower lip, but she played it cool. “It was a small community college in New York, it wasn’t much, honestly, but I finished it.”
“Where’s your mom?” he asked her.
She disliked being the center of attention, there was no one else to be curious about, no one else but each other. “In Greenwood,” she replied.
“Where’s that?”
“New York.” She was six feet underground, Greenwood was a cemetery. She didn’t lie to him, at least. Why lie on a pseudo-first date?
“And your father?”
“I don’t see him much. Shouldn’t it be my turn?” she interrupted him. “Your last relationship, what happened?”
“We broke up on Christmas Eve,” he said.
It was clear that he disliked the dredging up of memories as much as she did. She didn’t say anything else, wanting for him to continue. He didn’t.
“It’s almost Christmas,” she finally said.
He closed his eyes. “You’re right. Are you going back to the mainland to celebrate it with family?”
She shook her head. She had no family, at least no one that mattered to her right now. She was alone, in the truest sense. She had not seen her father since her mother’s wake… every chance she got, she escaped the cold weather, her mother died on Christmas day, and she hated the celebration of such a commercialized holiday. Christmas was when she found her mother dead, as she lay on her bed, an apparent overdose of pills and liquor…
“I’d rather work on something,” she finally replied. “You?”
He shrugged. “It’s just a Hallmark holiday. I guess that leaves us without a Christmas plan, huh?”
She didn’t care about Christmases, and she wanted to be harsh about it, but he was more animated than when she had met him, so she said nothing.
“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone,” he suddenly asked her.
She looked up, surprised at his query. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone… there were lots of things she hadn’t told him, or anyone for that matter. These were struggles that could be used as weaknesses, these were her moments of pain and despair…
“I’m actually afraid of thunder,” she admitted.
His eyes widened a little, and then she saw them soften. “I’m glad I got there, then.”
“So am I.”
Every little truth came with a consequence, but she knew she had played it safe. She would work on this little by little, and when the time came to leave, he wouldn’t know what would become of her, even if he was a genius IT expert.
*
He knew she was guarded, knew that she coated parts of her story. She was as secretive as he was, but all in all, the dinner had turned out pretty okay. She had retreated back to her room with a smile on her lips. So, he had won her over, huh?
He wasn’t that charming, but he had been played at once, and he was a quick learner. Once was enough. He had proposed that they check on her cottage the following day, and David couldn’t shake off the feeling of discomfort. She was moving back to her cottage once more, and he would be alone. What was wrong with him now? He was feeling things again, things that didn’t make him a better man. Yes, emotions were needed, but he didn’t need to think of a woman at a time like this. When would he ever have time?
He had invited her over for dinner, out of whim. He had surprised himself, as much as he surprised her. It wasn’t like him, he always had an algorithm. The last time he had been spontaneous was when he asked his then girlfriend out for a date, just an hour after being introduced in college…
He was veering off pattern, and it made him uncomfortable, yet adventurous at the same time. What was that phrase? Step out of your comfort zone? He would get to know her, she would get to know him. It was a bit unfair that he asked many questions, and how he refused to answer hers, and while he knew that he found her attractive and blunt, he still couldn’t trust her. That’s what happens to people like us, he thought. The attraction was there, and it was no slow build up, it had been a quick fire, sudden and dangerous. Would he end up hating her, too? He looked on the left side of his bed, and saw her sleeping soundly. The moon’s rays shone through the large windows that faced the ocean.
He closed his eyes, unable to believe that someone was lying beside him. Opening his eyes to look at her once more, he silently thanking the gods for bringing down a human as beautiful as she was. He hadn’t noticed that tiny mole on the upper left corner of her lip until tonight. The moonlight made it noticeable, and not the sun. Perhaps, he hadn’t truly observed her, after all. Everything he had seen was based on judgement, based on past experiences and stereotyping.
A father whom she hadn’t seen in years… why? Because of a new family? David knew that Caryn would find out about his past sooner or later. She would find out about his sad childhood, a childhood he still remembered but worked against.
His mother had been a crackhead, his father had been in and out of jail for the first year of his life. Jane and Warner, who had recently married, were a couple with big hearts. As soon as David was born, his biological mother had abandoned him, and he hadn’t look for her since.
That chapter of my life is closed, he thought, and seeing Caryn near him, he knew another was about to open up. For how long, he didn’t know. Did he care, though? He didn’t want to, but he knew he was in too deep, intimately. Will she stay?
*
Caryn breathed in the salty air from the terrace that David’s crew had rebuilt. It had taken all of three and a half days to finish fixing the old Kahele place. They had tried to restore it according to its old layout, but they had to add a few bits and pieces for it to withstand storms. Heck, even the cutlery and bedsheets were new.
“I didn’t know the island had a huge hardware store,” she commented to David as she marveled at the speed of the construction and repair of the house. For a moment, it felt like the house was hers.
David was quiet for a moment. “It doesn’t.”
“Then where-?”
“I had it shipped in,” he said, not looking at her.
He had a unique way of being kind, Leilani was right. It seemed like he didn’t want
to be given credit for anything he shared or helped with.
She bit her lip for a second, an impulse bite, out of embarrassment and awe. “You didn’t--”
“Have to?” he finished for her. “I just do what I want to do.”
Right, because he was the one with unlimited resources. “I just might want to stay here forever,” she suddenly murmured, hoping he didn’t hear it. He said nothing, and she was glad. She walked straight into the bedroom, and saw a new bed frame, new mattress, and other fixtures that weren’t there before.
“Would Mr. Kahele approve?” she suddenly asked him. “I mean, it still has that island vibe to it, but it isn’t as rustic as I remember it to be.” “You mean it isn’t as rusty?”
“I tried calling him,” Caryn admitted, “To tell him about the storm.”
“I already spoke to him. He’s approved of the repairs and changes,” David told her mildly. “Mr. Kahele’s home has been here far longer than I’ve existed. I think he deserves this overhaul.”
“So, you’re really nice, huh?” Caryn told him with a smile. “You’re secretly nice.”
“I’d like to think of it as putting my resources to good use,” he said, not looking at her for a moment. He surveyed the place, and Caryn walked around with him. The trees surrounding the house were damaged, but what trees that had been uprooted, the men replanted. It wasn’t as thick as it had once been, and the vegetation that put a green wall between her place and David’s, had now been considerably lessened.
“Are you good to go?” he asked her.
Her entire life was inside a few bags, all waiting in his car. She forced herself to nod. Of course, she would no longer be welcome to stay in his house. Her place was already fixed. It was just temporary, everything was all temporary. His warmth, his kisses, his cooking, his caresses… David wasn’t a robot, but outside of the walls of his villa, he became distant, detached. It was different from the man she had slept with, who had made love to her numerous times.
“Let me just get your stuff,” he said.
She nodded, walking to the bathroom that didn’t have the rusty showerhead anymore. The tiles were new, and Caryn specifically remembered the bathroom with the faded shower curtain, a few broken yellowish-white tiles, and a dirty mirror. Everything was spotless now, and the showerhead shone under the light, and the sink was large enough for her toiletries.
As soon as she walked out of the house’s only bathroom, she saw him in the living room, putting down her suitcase, and her backpack. He sighed as he did. She wondered if he was tired.
“You’re still busy right?” she asked him. “We could eat lunch together, with what I have. Or we could go to town and eat there.” He shook his head. “I still have stuff to finish. You’re welcome to eat at my place though, if you want to go back. Your jeep survived, unscathed, I had it checked by the city mechanic.”
She nodded, knowing how this was going to be it. This was it, right? She had barely gotten anything out of him for her story. She felt a pang of hurt. She knew she had to act, and act fast. She cleared her throat before he could turn around.
“Would you like to see the bedroom?” she asked him, her voice loud and clear.
He stopped in place. She saw his blue eyes darken, that tell-tale sign of his primal lust taking hold of him. This was an invitation he couldn’t refuse. Caryn took a deep breath, and then she quickly helped him take off his shirt and she flung it to the floor.
He kissed her, roughly, while he moved his hands, sliding it in between her thighs, snaking its way underneath her dress. She felt his fingers play against the lace of her panties, and she shuddered, taking a deep breath as she did.
She felt his fingers slide inside her folds, and she was already wet, eager for him. Her chest heaved against David’s and she saw him groan, unable to resist her. He toyed with her, and she moaned aloud, feeling the heat of the sun against her back as he pushed himself against her body, pushing her against the windowsill.
He pulled her panties down with one hand, and he unzipped his pants. She fondled him, and felt his hardness against her palm. Caryn saw him close his eyes, pleasured and knowing he wanted more.
“Stop,” he murmured.
Her eyes narrowed. Why did he want her to stop? Her thought was answered the moment he went down on her, and she melted into ecstasy.
Chapter7
It had been a day after she had moved back to her home, and David found his own house quieter than ever. She had been a source of conversation, no matter how “controlled” their conversations were. He had to get to know her better, he felt compelled to get to know her better. How was he going to do it without jeopardizing himself? He knew that emotions could be controlled, but to what extent -- he wasn’t willing.
Their mere silence together made him feel comfortable. He knew she was a deep thinker, as much as he was. How was it possible to be attracted to someone without even knowing who she was? He was sure she was attracted to him, but to what extent? Physically? He had been blessed with his biological mother’s good looks, looks that had become wasted after excessive cocaine use.
He swore he would never go down that path, and being straight-laced was a promise he had kept to himself, and to his adoptive parents. If they found out about Caryn, he knew they would be overjoyed. His mother’s solution to his emotional well-being was for him to date again, and he hadn’t done that, until two nights ago. It wasn’t even a date-date, was it?
He didn’t enjoy the emotions that toyed within him, and he felt vulnerable. It was as if he wanted to be vulnerable, but his mind said something else. She wasn’t going to be good for him, and he wasn’t going to be good for her. I guess I know what masochism feels like now, he thought, staring at his LED computer screen, one of the many that surrounded him in his office. He hadn’t worked as well as he’d have expected, since she took lodging in his home. He wasn’t that backlogged though, as he had subordinates checking on his work.
Still, it irked him. He needed to focus, and focus he would. He would ignore her for a few days, just to indulge himself in his pride, a pride that he had relied on for survival since childhood.
*
Caryn’s brows were furrowed. He was doing this on purpose, he was ignoring her. She didn’t want to visit him, it would make her look too needy. How many days had it been since she had seen him? No, how many days had it been since he had touched her? She had taken the pretense of walking around the beach on the third day of solitude, but he was nowhere to be seen. She saw Leilani sweeping over the balcony, and Leilani waved at her. She fought the urge to ask where David was.
What was going on with her? It wasn’t like she had never enjoyed the pleasures of intimacy before. It wasn’t that he was the first, it was that he was the last, and for a split second, she imagined that she could never sleep with anyone else again. This island romance had gotten to her head, if it was even called a romance. She could blame it on the weather, blame it on human need- it was still her choice in the end. Temptation Island, she thought wryly. She was here for an assignment, and assignment she hadn’t even started with yet. Caryn had been in this island for two weeks, and in those two weeks she had slept with someone. Where was her self-control? She forced herself to write at least a paragraph or two. She had written a total of twelve words.
He has reached the unforeseen brink of the world’s newest information database.
It didn’t even seem like a proper introduction. She didn’t want to give up without the pertinent data she needed. While she had been welcomed into his personal space, there were still many things she didn’t know about him, many things that could win her literary prizes, even a Pulitzer. She was hungry for a story, but not as hungry as she was with him.
It wasn’t like she was desperate for it, now was she? She had had partners before, two, to be exact, and love was just a disappointment, and she was sure he echoed her sentiments. It was past eleven in the evening, and she didn’t feel the strings of sleep tug on her. Sh
e had found it difficult to sleep once more, and she realized she had had a great sleep in his house. The bed couldn’t have made the difference, her recently acquired bed was nearly identical as the one she used in his home.
She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the cool breeze play on her skin as she tried to write with the windows completely open. The ocean was calm, but her heart was not. There was a wave crashing inside her, and she knew it was a bad sign. Her mother used to say to her that “people meet people for a reason,” and Caryn knew her reasons were ugly enough to be warranted selfish.
Her mother had been kind, before the depression took its toll. Then drugs didn’t sit well with her, and it rendered the once stunning Tamara Porter into an empty shell, a complete nervous breakdown had done the job.
That was what love did to people, she thought, remembering how she saw her mother’s lips were bluish, pills and a bottle of wine scattered about in her room. She had waited for Caryn to finish her exams, at least. It hadn’t been easy. The days and nights were blurred.
She was alone in the world, even after her father had half-heartedly offered for her to live with them until she graduated high school. She preferred her solitude, she had told him, and she received a monthly stipend from her father’s family’s lawyer, only to be cut-off during her junior year; courtesy of her father’s mistress turned wife.
She wanted to be legally emancipated, but that would cost time and money. In the end, her father’s lawyer met up with her, proposing to lodge her under her mother’s distant relatives. Tamara Porter had been an orphan, and she was the orphan who had taken the fashion world by storm, only to stop upon getting pregnant with her two years later, at the age of twenty-two. Her father had been thirty, an eligible bachelor according to archived news.
“We were going to live together,” her mother had once told her, “but they were going to cut him off the will. He doesn’t know much about the real world, where people have to work and bleed and sweat to survive. That’s why we live in a different house.”
