As I’m realising the complete lack of attraction between Daryl and myself, I hear a sound that catches my attention. I glance over my shoulder. It isn’t the music from the party back up the beach, even though I can see people dancing through the windows, silhouetted against the dim light of the sitting room. The sound I can hear is something ethereal, calming, calling me. I listen in, letting it soothe my jumpy nerves for a few minutes before my calm is broken as I hear something stir behind me.
I turn, but nobody is there. I hear it once again, the call, otherworldly, beautiful in its own right. Is it the alcohol, or just my imagination this time? I swear I hear it, that alluring chant, a melody of some kind calling my name, calling me, just me, into its warm embrace. I am lost in the music, so lost that I begin to hum, moving my head from side to side … so indulging the sound that it comes as a complete surprise when someone taps me on the shoulder. I jump up, disoriented and full of fear at the thought it may be some kind of rapist, whose watchful stare was what made the hairs on the back of my neck rise earlier. Then as I pivot to face the intruder, it hits me like a freight train.
It’s him. He’s the one.
I am not usually one for staring, but in this moment I am knocked back, totally dumbstruck and completely flabbergasted by the man who stands before me. The sane part of me wants to run, but the woman in me is rooted to that spot by a force so much stronger than anything she’s ever known, so much so that I cannot move. This force is so much greater than gravity, it’s as though this man has his own orbit in which I am trapped, unable to escape. The tiny voice inside my head, known as common sense, is screaming ‘Get out of there you dumb-ass! He’s probably a serial killer, approaching a young girl alone at this time of night’. But the other part of me, the part that has to pick up her jaw to say what comes next, just could not fathom moving a single step away from this man if she tried.
“Huh …?” Is all my incapacitated mind can manage; it is clear that my brain hamster is suffering from an asthma attack, which is the result of excessive swooning. I wonder absently if this is how Daryl feels when he looks at me.
“Are you all right?” he asks, looking down at me with his eyes wide open: those eyes … whoa, they’re so familiar! I sigh inwardly, taking in his face. His jaw is about as chiselled as any prince charming illustration I’ve ever seen, and he has a head of luscious, dark mahogany hair that is tousled to within an inch of perfection. I’d like to run my hands through that hair, is all I can think as I stand there in total silence. He is much taller than I am, at around six and a half feet and when I look at him, I see approximately two hundred and forty pounds of pure manliness. He is not a boy. He is a man and a fine specimen at that. He is muscular beyond even Daryl, with a square jaw line covered in fine dark stubble. His inquisitive, angular, ice blue eyes pierce mine with an unabated curiosity. It then occurs to me that while I’m standing here, gaping at him like an idiot, he is awaiting the usual thing in this kind of situation, an answer to his question.
“Uh, yes, I’m fine … Who are you?” is all I can think to say, unable to take my eyes off his gorgeous complexion.
“I’m Orion. You looked like you were singing to something … anything good?” His voice is rough but rolls out like silk sheets; I like his name too, unusual and mysterious. Pull yourself together Dumbass … You’re turning into one of those girls who drool on their shoes. I snap to myself, shaking my head a little, trying to wake up my fluffy brain motor, which is currently on its back, four teeny feet in the air.
“Nothing really. I just needed to get away from the crowds.” I finish, jerking my head to the house up the beach, and I’m sure he’s going to turn and run for the hills because I sound like some raving loony. Then I stop, take a deep breath and try to pull myself together. I muse, if he doesn’t like the answer, he shouldn’t walk around in the middle of the night, scaring the crap out of people and asking crazy questions. I expect him to laugh, or perhaps give up on the conversation and leave, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles to himself and once again blesses my ears with his silken tongue.
“Some people say they can hear the call of the ocean, you know. Of course I never believe them, but it’s a nice thought.” He smiles gently and I feel my knees weaken a little. His voice is so proper, like he’s not from around here. It’s a mix of some kind of European accent with classic American twisted over the top. I try to stand straighter, resisting my weak knees. I will not fall victim to this guy’s cheesy one-liners. I try to think of a reply, one that’s witty verging on sarcastic, but all I can come out with is:
“I guess.” Stunning reply to this incredibly handsome man standing before me. I know, but what can you do?
“So, what brings you out here?” He asks coolly, sitting down in the sand. I notice what is covering the well-muscled body he possesses. I deduce this according to the number of bulges that strain against the fabric of his shirt, and to my horror and mortification, find that I’m struggling to take my eyes away. I spot a tattoo peeking from under his left sleeve; it is a simple band, not a tacky tattoo like some of those sported by guys my own age. On closer inspection, it looks like the waves. Hmm, I think, maybe he’s a surfer.
He’s wearing a simple white t- shirt and soft black jeans that elongate his legs; his feet are bare and I wonder if he has left his shoes somewhere down the beach. His body, as simply dressed as it may be, instantly makes me feel self-conscious about my own appearance. I reach up to my hair and cringe as I hit a frizz of curls on the top of my head; he looks up at me with a quizzical expression.
“As if you don’t already know,” I say, wondering what his game is.
“I did happen to see your justifiable rage,” he confesses and it clicks. This is the guy; the guy Chloe wanted to get me away from, using Daryl as a diversion. It occurs to me that he’s seen me at my worst, slapping Daryl across the face. I cringe.
“Don’t worry about that, you are beautiful, especially when you’re angry.” He compliments me, as though reading my mind. So he thinks I’m beautiful? Maybe this is a reaction to my rage, coupled with the burning desire to find someone who isn’t a walking hormone? I breathe in the surrounding salty tang; pinching my left arm … nope I’m awake … what the hell?
“It’s supposed to be my party. I don’t even know who you are. Being totally honest, I have no idea who most of the people in that house are.” I say, immediately feeling more focused now that I have some ground supporting me.
“I’m not from your school.” Orion admits, his eyes burning, he looks concerned at how I’ll take this news. I wonder why I’m not walking away, as the hairs on my skin rise. Who the hell is this guy?
“But I saw you talking to Chloe. You were gate-crashing?” I ask, worried now.
“I was looking for you.” Orion admits. I remember Chloe saying he was asking for me.
“Why?”
“I wanted to meet you. I’ve seen you around before. You seem … different.” He adds, speaking with increasing speed.
“I don’t really fit in with the normal teenage angst demographic.” I add, trying not to blush as I feel his eyes on me.
“I can tell, I mean, you aren’t like other girls.” He comments a little half-heartedly and I watch his eyes travel to my chest and I feel vulnerable; is he checking out my boobs? What a pervert …
“I like your necklace.” Complimenting me, he reaches forward and gently grasps the teardrop diamond free of my round neckline. Where his fingers have lingered electricity sparks through my skin and I inhale sharply, not expecting human contact to bring such uninhibited feelings of pleasure.
“Thanks, it was a gift from my mom.” I explain.
“It’s beautiful, a family heirloom no doubt.” He guesses and I shake my head.
“Nope, she bought it I think. I’ve never seen it before.” I continue as he drops the necklace back down onto my chest. I feel slightly exposed again and move back a little, not wanting to risk him grabbing at me as I remind mysel
f I know nothing about him.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” He reassures me and I wonder how he notices a movement so small. His legs are crossed in the sand and he looks contemplative, sitting with his chin in his palm.
“The ocean is really beautiful, isn’t it?” He asks and I wonder if he means it rhetorically. He turns seamlessly, those icy blue eyes lock mine in their charms and I know he expects a response from me. I decide to go for honesty.
“I guess. I’m partial to thinking of it as more terrifying and savage.” I relinquish this tiny gem of personal information and his eyes light up slightly, a rather odd reaction to my pessimistic reply. I inhale and his eyes reflect an understanding of what I’ve said.
“Why?” The words we share are so simple, I wonder if somehow I am making all this up as an antidote to the alcohol and Daryl’s over amorous plight. However, I somehow think, or hope, that he is aware of these feelings, as new as they may be, that are left unexpressed and lingering in the air between us.
“I want to study marine biology, once you’ve read about the complexities of marine life, what they have to do just to survive, the ‘prettiness’ seems rather redundant.”
“You really aren’t like other girls your age.”
“Not a drop.”
“So how did you end up being friends with those other girls?” Orion asks with a sly smile, which I return despite being suspicious of his observant nature. He has known me barely ten minutes and is already questioning me about my personal life.
“So you live in San Diego?” I ask, deflecting his question. I wonder if perhaps he is a college student.
“You could say that.” He answers mysteriously, looking down into the sand. He quickly moves his head sideways so his eyes meet mine. My heart pushes my blood around the simple circuitry that lines my seemingly frail, human condition, like the infamous Bullet train. His strength, the conviction in his stare, and the sure set of his jaw, makes me feel bewildered by the intensity of my own attraction. It’s not just his face, it’s something deeper, something so ‘Juliet Capulet’ in the fact I’m torn between what I know, and this pounding in my chest, so unwanted and unbidden. I ponder this a few moments more before I notice that the orb that hangs continuously over us, showering us with soft, white romantic light is lowering. How did that happen? Have I been sitting here in silence like a moron for longer than I realized? However, this early morning has crept upon us and Orion, holding my gaze, gets to his feet while aiding me to mine.
“Well, I better get going.” He relinquishes my hand and I find myself disappointed as the current passing between us vanishes.
“Oh.” I drop my head as my heart slows a little. Then I remember we are but two strangers and I wonder why his presence or impending absence is affecting me so much.
“Aren’t you coming back to the party?” I suggest hopefully.
“Not my crowd. A little too immature for me I suppose. I don’t like boys who force themselves on unwilling women.” He smirks and his way with words surprises me, he’s more literate than most teenagers. I wonder if he’s read the classics. I stop myself as I begin to scowl unwillingly; the divot in my forehead is so unattractive.
“Daryl … he …” I, beyond reason I can myself explain, start to defend Daryl. Orion doesn’t know the situation. Maybe it’s my fault. Did I lead him on? Maybe I should have slapped him sooner. After all … there was that kiss when my drink was spiked.
“Felt it prudent to put his hands on what does not belong to him.” Orion’s voice rings out with a chilling edge to his tone. Felt it prudent? I question his choice of words, slightly formal and uppity for someone so young. Maybe he’s just educated, or in college perhaps.
“You’re right. I don’t belong to anyone.” I say it and as the words pass my lips, I feel my heart deflate in my ribcage at my own honesty. Orion doesn’t answer this, just gives a knowing smile. It kind of makes me want to slap him actually, but seeing how I’ve already slapped one person tonight …
I stand on bare feet awkwardly, wriggling my toes in and out of the sand.
“Will I see you again?” He whispers, pushing his body closer to mine than I expect, and grabbing both my hands, reinventing the current between us. I don’t know what to say, the common sense part of me is screaming, what kind of freak wants to meet up with some randomer they barely know? But the woman part of me is crying out, He wants to see you again! whilst jumping up and down in excitement. I look up into his eyes as the moon continues to lower in the sky and I don’t know why, but the only plausible response is,
“When?”
“Tomorrow night. I’ll meet you here.” He says this like a demand, so sure of my compliance.
“How do you know I’ll come back?” I ask, irritated by his cockiness.
“Something tells me you won’t be able to stay away. Let’s call it gravity.” He smiles, certain as to my return. He turns and saunters up the beach, but as he does, he turns and calls over his bulging shoulder:
“Oh and Callie … Happy birthday.”
I turn away from Orion’s figure disappearing into the distance under the light of a descending full moon. My mind races and then I stop. Realizing what has happened here, he called my name! I didn’t tell him my name. I guess Chloe told him. What the hell!? I sink to my knees; have I just been charmed by a stalker? How anyone could make me feel so powerless and at the same time, armed with my own emotions, I don’t understand. I frown, feeling empty, emptier than anyone, even Carl, has ever made me feel. Orion … is possibly the most infuriating person I’ve ever met. Now that I look back on the small period of time I spent staring at him, like a tourist ogling an Orca at Sea World, I’m angry; really angry. What kind of crazy man goes about looking for girls to charm, or rather entrap, in the middle of the night with his corny lines? I mean, ‘The Ocean is really beautiful, isn’t it?’ Give me a break! Almost instantaneously I’m no longer angry at Orion, but rather at myself for allowing him to capture my attentions with his pretty face and extremely creepy, stalker-like knowledge. How stupid can you get, falling for some guy with an angelic appearance? Falling, is that what I’m doing? Was that love? Oh God …
“Shut up!” I yell out and then slap my hand over my mouth, turning to look over my shoulder at the beach house which continues to rumble with party activity. I seriously need a slap right now. That was when the next series of questions flood into my mind; should I tell my friends? A tiny voice whispers, No, he’s yours. Then there’s the question of whether I should return to this spot only to be made to look moronic by the same man, again? I sigh; how in a matter of a night did my life suddenly seem like someone else’s? This wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t need anyone else in my life at the moment; I had everyone I needed. I was happy, wasn’t I? Even if I wasn’t, I certainly wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, not after Daryl, whose forcefulness pushed me to violence. I stand, the salt air whipping my hair back from my face, trying to remind myself that I’m fine, but I can’t help but remember the five words that made me feel melancholy and small: I don’t belong to anyone.
Back up the beach, the party seems to have died down, the music having stopped replaced only by the chattering of happy and loose-tongued mouths in the now early hours. I pick up my red pumps from the sand, walking barefoot and feeling slightly bereft after the night’s events. I don’t want to go back to the house but I have nowhere else to go, so I make my way slowly up the incline of the beach, picking my way toward the deck in the dim lights that seep from the embers of my party. As I approach, I feel like the person that really needs a slap is me. I do belong to someone, I belong to myself, and that is just fine.
“Callie!” I hear the call of my name before I see the source. Mollie is moving through the dispersing crowds of people, who brush past me leaving with linked arms coupled off as they move down the steps and onto the sand to begin their journey’s home.
“The party is over.” I comment sadly and Mollie looks giddy. I can’t help
but notice the smell of beer on her breath as she slings her arms around me.
“I’m sure Daryl didn’t mean it Callie …” She starts to defend Daryl, not unlike how I did to Orion, but I can’t let her finish.
“I’m sure he meant it, Mollie. I just want to go to bed.” I snap at her and she looks slightly irritated behind the alcohol induced haze that lies like a thin film of disillusionment over her eyes.
“It’s not his fault you don’t like him back. He’s crazy for you.” She slurs. I wonder if she might cry.
“Yeah, I’m sure he is, crazy, being the right word.”
“Don’t be so hard on him.” She almost begs me.
“I just want to go to bed, Mollie. Thanks for the party.” I say with a small fake smile, trying as hard as I can to reign in my sarcasm. Was this party really for me? Or was my birthday just an excuse to get drunk and show off Chloe’s new digs?
“But …” She starts but I push past her. Tired and uninterested in what she has to say. Inside the house, I see Chloe making out with one of the football players on the white cushioned corner couch which I was sat on for most of the night. I roll my eyes and turn away as I see tongue. Moving up the stairs that lead to the top floor of the house, I move to the furthest door down the hallway, where I dumped my backpack earlier, and push on the wood. Inside I interrupt what I assume to be the start of a spontaneous sexual encounter.
“Get out.” I say in an exhausted tone and the couple lying on my bed give a joint look of guilt and agitation at my interruption. The girl, who has long raven hair, pushes the strap of her camisole over her freckle peppered shoulder as she brushes past me, pulling the skinny guy she was smooching behind her. I walk through the doorway, shut the door behind me, move a few paces forward, drop my sand speckled shoes on the floor haphazardly, and collapse on the bed. My hair spreads out against the white sheets like a halo of gold; I go over the conversation between Orion and me once again. The phrase, ‘I don’t belong to anyone’, echoes in my mind, reverberating off the inside of my skull, bringing with it a fear that creeps over me, filling my chest with a numb emptiness. I breathe out deeply, trying to lift the loneliness that has come over me. I reject it; wanting to be independent and strong. Among my internal fight to break free from the connection formed between aqua and icy blue eyes, I give in to exhaustion and fall, fully dressed, into a deep and haunted sleep.
The Kiss That Killed Me (The Tidal Kiss Trilogy Book 1) Page 5
