by Pamela Ann
I checked the water’s temperature before I ordered her to jump in the shower. My annoyance jumped another notch when Trista glared at me. “Get in the damn shower, or I’ll haul you in there myself. You choose.” My voice was deadly and she knew I would carry out the threat if she wasn’t going to comply.
“You stupid son of a mother fucker!” she outraged. I didn’t leave the bathroom until I saw her get in it. I left the bathroom door slightly ajar, not willing to risk her life again. I’m not going to take any chances this time. If I had to watch her like a hawk then so be it. Her broken heart be damned.
I retreated for a quick shower of my own. I made sure to fetch a few bottled waters in the kitchen. I placed a couple on her side table. Before retreating to check her, my eyes darted at the luggage that sat openly on the floor. I freely browsed through it until I found her soft, cotton slip-on nightwear. “Are you done?” I called out after a few knocks on the bathroom door.
“I am.”
My hand slipped inside the door and handed her the scrap of cloth. Her soft hands yanked it from me. That feisty gesture made me smirk. After a minute, she came out with towel-dried hair, wearing that skimpy, sexy, nightdress. My gaze moved away from her body. The man in me easily found her body attractive, but reason and propriety won over. Grabbing one of the bottled waters, I broke the lid open and handed it to her, not muttering anything. Trista gulped down half the bottle, thirsty as hell. “I’m going to bed. I, uh, thanks.”
What was the proper reply to that? You’re welcome, as long as you don’t do it again?
I rounded the bed and gestured for her to get in. She cautiously slipped in the sheets, her green eyes not leaving mine. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to sleep here, too?” she asked when I didn’t move to exit her room.
“I’d be more comfortable knowing that you’re safe. The only way to achieve that is to sleep here.” I briskly moved towards the other side of the bed. I slid inside the sheets and turned to my side. Sleep was out of the question tonight.
Trista was very still, not one movement came from her. After half an hour or so, I heard her speak. “You’re not going to tell them, are you?” her voice was scratchy and wobbly at the same time.
I had never planned to, unless she made another attempt, but this woman needed to understand how massive this responsibility on my shoulders really was. “I won’t, as long as you behave yourself. I will be keeping a close eye on you, just so we’re clear.” I was not going to have her die on my watch. That’s inconceivable. I heard her reply a small ‘yeah’ after a few minutes.
Good, like I would accept anything other than her agreement.
“Taylor?” Trista asked again after a long stretch of silence.
My thoughts were still back in the events that took place a couple hours ago. The image of her pale, lifeless body floating—slowly sinking in the sea—played havoc in my mind. “Hmm?” I stayed put on my side. I was still extremely furious at her.
Her shallow breathing was pronounced. “I hadn’t planned on it… all I wanted was to have a quick swim… but when I got underwater…” Trista paused. I could easily hear her swallow. She sounded like her actions had shocked her, too. “I remember the feeling of surrender… and I felt at peace about it.”
If it were another guy in here with her, he would most likely coddle her and try to give little assurances, but I wasn’t that kind of a man. I believed in fighting for reason, for truth, to free one’s self from lies. Life was hard, so one must play hardball. Fight it tooth and nail. Courage, it’s the best therapy to give oneself. “I may understand the full capacity of your situation, Trista, but you must see how cowardly your actions were. If a person gives up every time shit is thrown their way, the human race wouldn’t have survived. You have to learn how to fight—physically, emotionally, mentally. Face it bravely, even if the pain is too great, the consequences too frightening. At the end of the day, the only thing that counts is how much you’ve made a difference—progress. Fighting it is progressive. Fighting is reason.”
When I didn’t hear her, I assumed she fell asleep. So, I shifted a little to get more comfortable and rolled on my back—arms folded behind my head, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“You know, for a pretty boy, you’re insightful and sharp. I thought all your studying law talk, was well, all talk,” she murmured, shifting on her side.
From my peripheral vision, I could see she was looking at me, but I didn’t move from my current position. “They did tell you not to judge the book by its cover, right? Now be a good girl and sleep. The island of Ios awaits.”
Chapter 8
Trista
I was jolted awake when I heard a light slam of what sounded like the front door. It was probably Emma, off to work. My face contorted when a migraine gave me immediate whiplash.
I managed to spring my eyes open and found myself looking at Taylor’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his face looking a little tired. His hazel eyes scanned my face.
“Migraine, it just came out of nowhere,” I mumbled and started to close my eyes again. I didn’t want to keep looking at him. The feeling of shame, guilt and embarrassment of what took place last night came back with a vengeance.
“I’ll get you some pain killers, be right back,” he rasped out, the deep timbre of his voice bothered me. I could hear him slide out of bed before he quietly left the room. I suppose I drifted back to sleep because I was a little disoriented when Taylor caressed my arm. I blinked a few times, until there’s enough moisture in my eyes. Taylor had two blue pills in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. I half sat-up, without looking at him, I silently took the pills and orange juice. Once I washed everything down my throat, I humbly thanked him.
“Go back to sleep. I get up early and Bass should be up soon. I’ll be out on the patio if you need anything.” Taylor still looked serious, not a smile anywhere this morning. I hardly blamed him after my idiocy last night.
Once the effects of the pills vanquished my monster migraine, I retuned to sleep. My body simply couldn’t get enough of it.
“Knock-knock, the witch is back.” Lindsey called out after she opened the door.
Dear Almighty, I forgot that she had a tendency of waking up people. Emma complained about it for much of the past year. It was one of the reasons why Amber and I didn’t want to dorm with her.
“Fuck, Lindsey!” I grumbled when I felt her get on the bed, and start to jump on it like a damn, little girl having the time of her life.
“Oh, come on, granny! You missed lunch already! We gotta go and seek out Greek McHotties!” Lindsey screamed at me, laughing in between sentences. One didn’t need to see how happy she was. Yeah, and to think I almost came close last night… Taylor was right. I felt like the selfish, evil bitch he accused me of being, I truly did.
Lindsey was smiling down on me when she saw me sit up, obviously giving in to her mad tricks. “Give me fifteen,” I mumbled, weary and sleepy.
She jumped out of the bed and landed perfectly on the floor. “Fifteen, got it! Let the countdown begin. Tick-tock!” Lindsey called out before she closed the door after her.
Knowing how she was, she really would time me. Crazy woman, but I love her no less for it.
Instead of fifteen, I was done in ten minutes. I wasn’t really up to putting any make-up on, so after I showered and lathered some lotion on, I was good to go.
I was thankful when Taylor acted normal, as if he didn’t save my life last night. Yet, he still unnerved me somehow.
Lindsey and Taylor agreed that they would love to take the ferry to get to the other island, instead of the small planes they have around. I really couldn’t care less about any of the transportation, so I just followed their lead.
I was surprised when I found the ferry ride was actually relaxing. I half listened to Taylor and Lindsey looking over the travel guide for Ios, planning places to check out once we were there.
We arrived on Ios right about sundow
n and checked in at a three-bedroom villa that overlooked the sea. On the way to the hotel, we saw crowds of people our age enjoying their drinks and lounging around the beach. “God, I’m crazy excited!!!” Lindsey couldn’t contain her joy when she spotted a few hot men.
Yeah, this was going to be a great night. Fight it, Taylor had said last night. Yep, I would fight it, MY WAY.
I was barely getting my things out of my luggage when I heard a knock on the door. “The men aren’t going to disappear, you know. Give me half an hour then I will be set to go.”
When the door opened, I was startled to see Taylor instead of the more expected, Lindsey. “I’m attracted to breasts, so no, men aren’t my thing.” He gave me a knee-buckling kind of smile.
Holy fuck, this guy was hot. I mean, I knew he was. But now, I’m really noticing it, blatantly noticing it, BIG TIME.
I bit my lip and looked away, hating that my body was reacting to him. Could this be Hero Syndrome? God, I hope not. That would be humiliating to like someone who saw you at your lowest. “Did you want something?” I asked, still not looking at him.
He strode forward and sat comfortably on my bed. He cleared his throat, and I could feel his heated gaze on me, but I didn’t budge to meet it. “How are you? I’ve been meaning to ask, but I never really got the chance to.”
Ah, shit-cakes. “I’m still reeling, I guess. You don’t have to worry about that again, though.” I looked up and finally met his probing gaze. “It was a random thing. I assure you, it never crossed my mind before.”
Taylor got up and silently strode before me. “That may be, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. Who knows how many impulsive, deadly endeavors there may be?”
“I’m not a nutcase, not even close to suicidal. That was a one-off incident. One I won’t be attempting again, I promise.” I pressed my lips together, trying to gain some composure, maybe a little bit of dignity, too.
His moss green-eyes drilled into mine, causing my breath to hitch. Time stood still, I felt bereft and perplexed at the same time. Although, most of all, I felt exposed to this man that I barely knew.
“I’m still watching you, Trista. Think of it like I’m your own personal guardian angel; a dark one.” His scrutinizing gaze roved over me one more time. “We’ll see you in thirty then.” Taylor left my room after parting with those words.
It took me a few more seconds until I let out a long breath. My fingers clenched on the rim of my opened luggage, speechless. What the hell just happened? Was that a promise or fucking sexual tension? I was beyond disconcerted, but I pushed myself to get ready and show Taylor how his actions— and his soul-impaling-eyes—had no effect at all.
We dined on a taverna that had tiny chairs and tables on the shore. I’ve traveled to a lot of countries, but I don’t think there is another place on earth like Greece. It truly was a jewel. The beauty, the cuisine, the people and the history of the country, it was all imbedded everywhere you go. You just don’t feel it, you experience it. It seeps into you, like a mating of souls. You knew you’d never be the same after that kind of experience.
After the simple, and yet very commendable dinner, we went to an outdoor club that was packed with tourists, just like us. “Woot woot! European McHotties in the house!” Lindsey danced her way in, checking out men here and there. Her signature tight-hugging dress contoured her fabulous figure. Lindsey was stunning, beauty and brains, kick-ass, stunning.
Taylor, like a true gentleman, guided both of us girls to a table. Once we were all seated, I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
“What you do want to drink? We’ll order it for you.” Taylor threw me a question before I left the table.
I waved my hand like the question was irrelevant. “I’ll drink whatever you guys are having. It’s no biggie.” Call me a coward, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him squarely when he talked directly to me. He simply made me feel… odd.
Tonight, he wore white chinos, a white dress shirt with sleeves that were folded and pushed up on his elbows, and light brown Armani loafers. He looked like the model that he was, sexy and oozing some astronomic sex, appeal. It did not help that he unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt to reveal his muscular perfection underneath it. Yes, I was now seeing everything he did, and not in the angry way that I had the night before. I took note how he liked to bite his thumb when he found something amusing, but was trying to withhold his laughter, or the way he didn’t really care how his wavy hair goes about. Messy, swept back, partially tamed or hung loosely around his eyes, he still looked gorgeous.
The bathroom excuse was a way for me to regroup my thoughts and tame my betraying body’s reaction to the man. I comforted myself that it was simply a Hero Syndrome. I mean, what else could it be? I sure wasn’t into him the first time I met him.
My heart hadn’t changed much, though. It still bore Harry’s name, like a curse or fate, across it. I gave up trying to nitpick why I felt the way I did when it came to him. It was what it was, I was not going to deny it, or even try to understand it. Matters of the heart were a mercurial subject to sort and ponder through—especially at a club, in Greece of all places. It was one thing the brains and the whizzes did not have an answer to—stupid hearts, stupid love. There were simply no explanations out there that could provide answers precisely why that was. That’s why it’s all feeling and not thinking.
Once I was finished using the bathroom, I came out and weaved through the throng of swaying people, dancing to the beats of Tiësto’s Traffic, one of my all-time faves. I halted when a hot looking woman pulled me with a small pressure on my arm. “Let’s dance! Dance with me.” Her accented tone was heavy. Spanish, perhaps?
In return, I gave her an approving smile. Sure, I could do this. I could dance for a bit.
She guided me towards a few steps that screamed VIP only. We joined a table that had a barely-aged-teen, looking all smug and pimpin’ it. The young man looked like he was probably about seventeen or so. He surrounded himself with six women, plus me and the accented woman who had grabbed me.
It didn’t take long for us to start dancing to the beat. Before I knew it, we were dancing right in front of the young kid. He was clapping like an idiot, his eyes greedy, checking me out. It was stupid, but this kid made me crack-up. He just looked too confident and too smug for his age. The effect was hilarious.
When the music ended, I said goodbye to the woman who hadn’t given her name, but we both smiled at each other in an understanding that it was great fun to dance with each other for a bit. “Wait! Dance more, for me.” The boy-kid asked, his accent obviously Greek.
“You’re a naughty kid. I already danced and you watched. You got the full viewing.” I spun around and went towards his table that had a variety of alcoholic drinks. I picked up the Rosé bottle and saluted it at him. “See you around.” I gave him another smile before leaving.
Boy-kid bunched up his fingers and kissed them with his lips. “Goodbye, beautiful.” He was obviously drunk already.
I waved him another goodbye, walking with purpose, seeking Lindsey and Taylor. I was surprised when I found the two talking, drinks in hand. Lindsey looked up when she found me walking towards them. “Hey! Where have you been? You look flushed.” Her eyes took in my state. “Where did you get the Rosé?”
I pointed towards the opposite side of the room, and smiled at them. “I took the champagne after I gave that Small Big Pimpin’ Kid a mini-lap dance.”
Taylor’s reaction was a Kodak moment. “Cheers!” I nodded at him before I took a long gulp of the mighty fine bubbles, straight up from the bottle.
“What!? I would’ve loved to have seen that! What a bummer!” Lindsey looked like I just told her that she couldn’t have margaritas any more. I gave her a big, goofy grin.
“Mi scusi, I’m Eliza and this is Mia. We’re from Roma. We were wondering if you were that Armani ad underwear model? Taylor, sí?” Two awed, giddy teenage girls eyed Taylor like he was edible. Lindsey an
d I both looked at each other, then at Taylor.
The man in question stood up and shook their hands. “I am that Taylor. It’s nice to meet you Eliza and Mia from Rome.”
The girl, who introduced herself as Eliza, gushed and turned tomato red when she got up close to Taylor. She ordered Mia to take pictures of the two of them together.
Taylor was an Armani underwear model? Holy sexy man! I needed to Google that, like right now! Lindsey moved closer to me and whispered in my ear. “Did you think he modeled for like The Dollar Store or something?” Lindsey nudged me. She could easily see through my reaction.
I flicked my hair to the other side, not caring that Taylor was engrossed talking to his fans now. “Want to put your Greek plan in action?” I asked the grinning Lindsey.
“Fuck, yeah! It took you long enough. It’s time to rock those tittays of yours woman!” Lindsey gave me a wink. Her brown eyes sparkled wickedly with amusement.
Ever since my breasts developed to full C-cups, she’d always teased me about it. I mean, they’re pretty decent, but since I’m petite, they look somewhat huge on me, and much more pronounced when I wear a tight top, like tonight.
She held her hand out and guided us through the throng of people dancing. She stopped when we were squashed in the middle of those people, who were lost in the groove of the music. Reggae Techno blared through the speakers. We started dancing like no one was watching us. I danced and drank from my bottle, having not a care in the world.
After ten minutes of dancing, two British men came to join us. I barely glanced at Lindsey because the Brit looked like Josh Duhamel, but with a British accent. Talk about loaded ammunition! I was sold. “James,” he whispered in my ear, his hands holding my hips possessively. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, or how disarming his looks were, but I was melting in his arms. James could be my cure—the cure for my reaction to Taylor, not Harry. There was no cure for the kind of hangover that Harry had produced.
