Midnights in Bali

by Carla de Guzman

  Charlie, Scott, and Ava looked at the hotel facade, in awe of what was right in the middle of a small, sleepy district in Bali. It was a wide, open space, featuring ponds of koi fish and large, flaming red tamarind trees shading a small restaurant on the side. The front building was painted white and had a sloping tiled roof in brick red. Scott took a moment to breathe it all in, trying to get a sense of peace, but was interrupted by Charlie beside him.

  “I’ll just say hi to Gabbie,” he announced upon arrival. He gave his friend a wink before jogging off toward the restaurant where he had seen his fiancée talking with the staff, presumably to prepare for the party. Gabbie was the daughter of a famous shipping magnate from Hong Kong, and Sudamala Park was her family’s hotel. She could have had her birthday anywhere in the world, but Gabbie had her heart set on Bali.

  Back on the driveway, Ava protested against the bellboy taking her things to the reception desk, insisting that she could carry one little bag. Scott followed her as she followed her runaway luggage as the bellboy had ignored her protests.

  “Checking in?” Scott asked, smiling as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ve been known to charm receptionists into getting a nice suite.”

  “No thanks,” Ava answered, snorting at the suggestion but keeping her eyes on the bellboy.

  “Your loss,” he shrugged, giving her a saucy little wink. Normally, any guy acting this way would have repulsed her, but there was just something about Scott that made it seem … almost charming. It had something to do with his little schoolboy grin, the way he was just so at ease with the world. Everything he said was playful and had just a hint of mischief. While Ava didn’t really want to see him again, she had to admit, she was no longer burning with the rage of a thousand suns.

  Being polite, she tossed Scott a too-wide smile. She was sure that this wasn’t going to be the last time they would see each other. She vowed he would no longer see her as straightedge, heartless, and boring (even if she was pretty sure he never called her the other two things) when that time came.

  “Bye, Scott.”

  In a gesture that took her by surprise, Scott gingerly took her hand and kissed the back of her palm, his light sheen of beard tickling her knuckles. Warmth spread through her, making her skin tingle. Ava suppressed a chuckle, but Scott looked up just in time to see the twinkle in her eye. A blush crept up her cheeks when his dark gaze turned to look up at her, and she withdrew her hand quickly, hiding it behind her like it was embarrassingly dirty. Ava’s eyes grew wide in surprise at her own reaction. God, she was pathetic.

  “Bye, Ava,” he said, holding up a hand to give her a little wave before she walked off to the reception desk.

  As much as she told herself she would never say it again, Ava Bonifacio was in love. In love with the pleasant, floral smell spritzed all over the room. She loved the high, thatched roofing of her suite. She loved that her room was large and classy. Since the hotel was booked up because of Gabbie’s birthday, they gave her an incredible discount on a twin villa. As long as the adjoining door stayed locked, she didn’t care.

  Sudamala Park’s Ramayana Villa featured cream, beige, and brown Spanish tiles on the floor, matching the gorgeous wooden Balinese furniture. The large lamps on the bedside table, the dresser, by the door, and on the coffee table in front of the bed gave the room a soft, yellow glow when the curtains to the stone patio were drawn shut.

  More than her suite, Ava was in love with her bathroom. The idea of open-air bathrooms usually made the prude in her shudder, but Sudamala Park had done it so tastefully she couldn’t help but sit on the edge of her clawfoot bathtub and sigh. The floor was made of wooden slats that led to the bathtub in the middle of the bathroom, rough marble tiles lining the walls and the floor to the open shower, the toilet and the his and hers faucets on the opposite side. The ceiling of the bathroom was made of the same thatched roofing, but the area above the bathtub had been hollowed out, making a large skylight for whoever was sitting in the tub.

  “God, I love this room,” she sighed happily, ignoring the fact that she was talking to herself. She did that often enough already. Now that she was sure she was going to end up alone, she figured she might as well get used to it.

  Ava shook her head out of her reverie, making the automatic Japanese toilet on her right whirr as it flushed. I’m in Bali. Bali! She thought, collapsing on her soft king bed and laughing by herself. The thought of being alone in a foreign country thrilled and scared her. She needed this, and she needed this badly. More than running away from her problems, Ava wanted a chance to just be herself, to let her hair down and just … what? she thought. What was something that Ava Bonifacio would do? It bothered her that she had no idea.

  In spite of that, she was actually happy to be temporarily free from her constant companion. The Plan was an ugly blip in her horizon, but right now, she had a feeling that she was in the right place. She was going to have to find a new plan at some point, maybe accept the detour, but at this point, it was all too far away.

  But what did that mean for her when she came back home?

  What the hell am I doing here?

  She decided she would no longer care. She was in a foreign country on her first solo trip, and she was going to get herself together and book a private tour with the hotel.

  Ava chose to have dinner at a restaurant by Sanur Beach, in a slapdash-looking place that served nasi goreng, mi goreng, and chicken satay for low prices. The beach was empty and dark, the sand was almost black and it was the kind that got absolutely everywhere. The sea was not at all the gorgeous beach the Internet had promised. But Ava was outside, and that was more than enough for her, really.

  She scarfed up her plate of nasi goreng, too hungry to really judge if it was good. In the interest of no longer being boring, she washed it down with Bintang, the local beer. It filled her throat and warmed her cheeks so fast that she couldn’t finish her second bottle.

  After eating, Ava walked along the beach and back to the alleyway that led to the hotel. Her cheeks felt hot, and she could feel tears spring into her eyes. She had thought of going to Bali once. But Ava never really did anything about it. It wasn’t part of her plan. She thought she would be too busy with law school to go anywhere. Now she was walking a dark alley alone, with nothing in her horizon but a bathtub and an evening of her stewing in her own filth.

  She thought about Scott, reliving the moment when he had kissed her hand. She wondered what he was doing in Bali. He’d assumed that she wanted to escape. Was he doing the same? She ran her fingers over the spot where his lips had touched it, warmth spreading through her again as she remembered. Ava shook the memory from her brain, and squeezed her eyes shut. She was here in Bali to soul-search, not to think about infuriating men with ridiculous t-shirts and Scottish accents.

  Ava stopped when she heard sounds of girlish laughter in the distance. She grew up in an all-girls’ Catholic school, where a gaggle of girlish laughter could be life-threatening, and she instantly froze.

  She looked up just in time to see a group of women walking down the alley. Two extremely fit, half-naked men were holding up tiki torches to illuminate the alley. The one that Ava assumed was the group leader made a bee line toward her. Ava took a step back, ready to run away at any sign of danger.

  “Hieee!” her pursuer exclaimed, practically bouncing in her gold sandals. “You must be Ava Bonifacio. I’ve heard so much about you! Charlie couldn’t stop raving about you and Scott. How long have you two been together?”

  She was so bubbly that Ava lost her footing. Charlie’s fiancée wasn’t the tallest in her group, but her smile was so bright that she lit up the alleyway just by being there. Her dark hair was cropped to a superchic, awkward length bob that fell around her face. She had perfectly smooth, tanned skin, (the kind you only saw in commercials), and had the brightest smile Ava had ever seen. She was just so comfortable with herself that she glowed.

  “What, sorry?” Ava asked in confusion
as Miss Bubbly blinked eagerly at her. Where did this girl come from? she wondered. “Scott and I aren’t together.”

  “Right, and I’m the queen of England,” she laughed dismissively, giving Ava a sly wink. Then she placed her hands on Ava’s shoulders, studying every curve of Ava’s face as it twisted in confusion. “I’m kidding,” she admitted, her lips curling into a smile, dimples appearing on both her cheeks. “Charlie mentioned Scott helped you to the hotel, and Ekha told me the rest. I’m Gabbie Chan, Charlie’s fiancee and the birthday girl.”

  The group behind them heard the word ‘birthday’ and whooped, raising their hands in the air. Gabbie turned and gave her girl friends a wink before turning back to Ava.

  “Sorry, I’m in the middle of my pre-birthday party,” she explained, like the half-naked men with tiki torches hadn’t been an obvious clue. “But you have to come to my actual birthday party tomorrow! It’s going to be in the hotel anyway, so there’s no escape!”

  “Oh, but I couldn’t—”

  “Yes, you can,” Gabbie insisted, squeezing Ava’s shoulders affectionately. “Don’t worry about a thing! It’ll be fun!”

  One of the girls in the party pointed out that the Rock Bar wasn’t going to wait for them forever. So with a final wave to Ava and a promise from her that she would be at the party, Gabbie left, and the alley was a little darker for it. Blinking to adjust her eyes to the sudden darkness, Ava walked back to her hotel, wondering if Gabbie did this kind of thing all the time.

  After spending most of the night researching Bali tourist destinations, trying to avoid stalking Matteo online, shooting her family a quick e-mail to let them know she was okay, setting up a budget, and unpacking her things neatly into the provided cabinets, Ava was starting to feel like her old self again. She definitely didn’t want that.

  But what was she supposed to do?

  She sat on the room’s couch, trying to focus on her routine. What did she usually do after dinner? After talking to Bee about her day, her mother about the family finances, and Matteo to say goodnight (ugh), Ava usually went upstairs to take a bath.

  Ah. Bath. She could take a bath. A bubble bath. People liked taking bubble baths, didn’t they? Maybe she would like it.

  She passed her phone sitting on the coffee table, and a memory occurred to her. Scott, singing at the top of his lungs as the landscape flew by. He had been nicely accompanied by Charlie’s entreats for Scott’s mercy. What was that song Scott was singing earlier? Why did that song sound familiar?

  She smiled when she remembered.

  With a new rush of energy, she plugged her phone into the speakers the hotel provided, grabbed the can of Bintang from the mini-fridge and blasted Ziggy Stardust by David Bowie without a care for the person in the other room. Ava used to love listening to old rock songs. Her Dad was a real audiophile, and he listened to old records with Bee and Ava when he wasn’t working. It was one of those guilty pleasures she hid away so well that she had forgotten. It felt good to jam along to David Bowie without worrying what other people thought.

  The bathtub was still filling up with water, so Ava danced to the music while waiting, stripping off her shirt and singing along. By the time Baba O’Riley came on, she was playing a mean air guitar to an empty room, spinning, singing, and jumping around in her bra and underwear. She took another swig of the Bintang and bowed to her invisible audience before waltzing into her bathroom. The moon was visible from the hole in the thatched roof, and she had to sigh.

  I don’t deserve this, she thought, tossing aside the beer and the last strips of her clothing before turning off the taps. The tub was so warm and inviting. I shouldn’t be here.

  Skimming a finger over the water to test the temperature, Ava was just about to get into the tub when she realized that someone was singing along to I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles), the most embarrassing song in her playlist. Matteo had sent it to her as a joke on one of their two anniversaries together, and she’d honestly forgotten that it was still in her phone.

  Ava froze, half-drunk and fully naked in her bathroom. Someone was definitely singing, matching all The Proclaimers’ intonations and Scottish accents perfectly.

  “Hello?!” she asked hesitantly, grabbing the soft terry cloth robe by the tub and quickly throwing it around herself. That came out a little loud. Apparently the pounding in her ears wasn’t coming from the speakers. The bathroom door was made with clear glass, and from where she was standing by the tub, she couldn’t see her intruder. But she could certainly hear him.

  She slid the glass door open, jumping back in shock when her intruder decided to jump up at her in the middle of his singing. His height, his Backstreet Boys t-shirt, and spiky brown hair was enough for Ava to know who it was.

  “Scott?!” she exclaimed, suddenly grabbing the collar of her robe to hide her cleavage.

  Indeed, it was Scott. Scott the Scotsman, barefoot, probably a little drunk and prancing around her bedroom to the most famous song that ever hailed from Scotland. He was still singing, laughing like a maniac as he grabbed Ava’s hands and skipped around in circles with her for the chorus, making her dizzy and giggly like she’d swallowed down one too many cans of Bintang.

  Throwing caution to the wind, she found herself laughing and singing along, lost in the whirlwind of his happy dancing and his eerily accurate singing.

  She collapsed backward on the bed, laughing and resisting the strong urge to throw up. The feeling of laughing over nothing was so new to Ava that she revelled in it, letting her arms spread out on her bed. When was the last time she had laughed this hard?

  She didn’t even want to think about the answer to that question.

  “Hallo darlin’!” Scott exclaimed, collapsing beside her on the bed as the song ended. There wasn’t a trace of redness on him, but his breath was telling. “What’re you doing in my room?”

  “What?” Ava asked a little too loudly, and Scott laughed again. “This is my room.”

  “Is it?” he said, in perfectly understandable English. Apparently his accent had finally grown on Ava. His eyes flickered to the redness in her cheeks and a grin spread across his face. “Have you been drinking?” he asked, like he was scandalized by the suggestion.

  “If you must know,” Ava began, but found she didn’t really want to explain. “Yes.”

  “Brilliant, I’ll join you.”

  “Don’t you think you’ve had enough, if you’re waltzing into other people’s villas?” Ava asked, sitting up as Scott sashayed to the mini fridge. His legs were so long that his hips just naturally rolled up and down. She swallowed a lump of saliva that built up in her throat suddenly.

  “Ah, but this is my villa too,” he pointed out, handing her the last can while he took a swallow from his. “Well, half mine, half yours. I’ll grab replacements at the mini-mart tomorrow, don’t worry,” he told her, nudging the can toward her as she looked at him skeptically. Ava’s eyes traced the line from his bobbing Adam’s apple to his chest, then even further down to—

  “I’m in the adjoining suite,” Scott suddenly said, snapping Ava out of her thoughts. “And I’m hiding from the stripper one of Charlie’s mates hired. Not my thing.”

  “Why would you be hiding from a … unless she was—no!” Ava’s furrowed eyebrows flew up as she gasped, laughing as her feet dangled over the edge of the bed. “I thought they only had those types in Thailand?”

  “Apparently not,” he chuckled, shaking his head and drinking more beer as he ran a hand through his spiky brown hair. Ava found herself laughing harder, gripping her sides and rolling around the bed. Scott sipped more beer, smiling at Ava and sank down on the bed beside her.

  “So, Miss Ava,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows as he relaxed back into the bed. “What are you doing, getting drunk all by yourself while listening to The Proclaimers? You know, play that song loud enough and a Scotsman is likely to appear. It’s just science,” he shrugged, crushing his empty beer bottle with one hand before tossing it
neatly into the trash bin across the room.

  “If you must know,” Ava said, her temples still throbbing. She swallowed down her beer anyway, turning to place the half-empty can on the bedside table. Then she dropped back into the bed and turned to look at him. Gah. His arms were all sinewy. Why did she not touch them earlier when she had the chance? “I was just about to have a lovely bath when some jerk suddenly burst into my room, singing.”

  “Ooooh, a proper burn,” Scott conceded, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down again as he let out a deep, throaty laugh. “We’ll make a feisty lass out of you yet.”

  Then he rolled his head backwards and turned his dark brown eyes right into Ava’s. The tingly warmth she’d felt earlier that day returned. Apparently it hadn’t been the kiss of his hand. It was the way he looked at her. It was the look of someone who couldn’t see anything else, one that she realized, she had never received.

  “You know, I haven’t forgiven you for what you called me this morning,” she told him.

  “What, a virgin?” he joked, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Oh you know what I’m talking about,” she said, kicking his leg with her bare toes, making him laugh and look at her again. His eyes had a darkness to them, and she could see an ember growing bright beneath them. How could someone look at her like that? “You practically called me boring.”

  “Prove me wrong then,” he challenged, his voice so low she didn’t think she heard him right. Scott’s eyes trailed over her, from her toes against his leg, to the slit in her robe, and back to her eyes. Her skin tingled with the flames he set.

  It’s the Scottish vacuum of charm, Bee had explained to her once when they watched Outlander. It was Bee’s favorite show, featuring men in kilts hacking and slashing other men, falling in love, speaking Gaelic, and making panties drop worldwide. Ava never really got the appeal … until now.