Naughty and Nice

by Sarah J. Brooks

  She ordered a cup of lemon honey tea and sipped the hot beverage while she tried to fight whatever she was coming down with. She’d picked up a bottle of flu medicine at the airport shop just in case. Now, she took a sip and went back to drinking her tea.

  She’d come into the cafeteria in the hopes that it was quieter, but even the smallest sound seem to add another drumbeat in her head. It was just her bad luck that the Devil’s apprentice took the seat opposite her, talking about ridiculous encounters. Looking at him through her watering eyes, she wondered if he was stalking her or had she pissed off Satan?

  Why was he even talking to her? He could find countless females with which to converse. There was another table with one man; he could have taken the other seat. Seething at his brazenness, she watched him pay attention to his cell phone.

  He’d removed his tie, and she could see his Adam’s apple through the lapels of his dark coat. The guy didn’t even use a scarf, as though he was immune to the cold. Her eyes traveled up to his face where his day old stubble resided beneath his strong jawline. His lips … she blinked, shaking her head and dropping her eyes to the table.

  She’d like nothing better than to tell him to go away. If only she could get out a full sentence between her sneezing and sniffling. While he was on the phone, she made her escape, but by this time, she was developing a ghastly headache. The darn place was so noisy that she could hardly form two thoughts without the din crashing her mind.

  “ACHOO!”

  Along with the sneezing was a shooting pain in the head. She wasn’t at all certain if this was just allergies or a virus. There were others with the same malady in the airport; therefore, it was probable she’d caught a bug from someone, though for the most part, she kept to herself.

  I’m probably allergic to the bastard, she thought.

  She wandered around for some time until exhaustion began seeping into her bones. Not only was she tired, but her head began to pound like a bongo drum. By nightfall, the snowfall thinned, and one road leading into the airport was clear enough that a few vehicles were able to get through.

  From the reports, the Thruway was treacherous, and the airport administration advised passengers to stay put. Most did not listen. Many people began leaving with family who were brave enough to risk coming to fetch them. The TV reported of accidents and pile ups on the Thruway, so people needed to be careful.

  Her greatest need was to get home to her own warm bed. How she would get to Cleveland Hill, five miles away, she had no clue. What she did know was that she had a runny nose, and her head felt as though someone had split it with an ax. The phone service kept slowing to snail’s pace. Because of that, she could neither reach Florine nor could she get through to a taxi service to come pick her up.

  At least there was less noise now that most people were either asleep or had left. She hadn’t seen her arch enemy in a while and wondered if perhaps he’d left with the greater crowd.

  She was still in her corner, sitting on her luggage when she saw that there were vacant benches. Perhaps they were more comfortable. She raised herself up, but her knees wobbled, dragging her backside back to sitting position. With as much strength as she could muster, she pulled herself to her feet, but a wave of dizziness almost rendered her unconscious.

  Grabbing the handle of the luggage, Zoe began moving toward the closest set of benches. The closer she got, the further away they moved. She squinted her eyes as they began to dance before her eyes. No, something wasn’t right. How could the benches move on their own? She continued, but everything swirled around, then she was crumbling.

  As the day dragged on, he found himself getting restless. After his ‘friend’ left the table, he was finally able to pull his tablet from his bag and get some work done. Spending most of the afternoon in the cafeteria was the best option. He had as much coffee as needed, a meal, and he was able to concentrate as it was quieter than the lobby and lounges.

  It was nightfall when he decided to stretch his legs and give someone else a chance to use the table. He knew he’d been selfish, having sat for nearly five hours while others needed the seat. It briefly crossed his mind that he’d actually been the jerk this girl accused him of being. He quickly pushed it aside as his work came before anything else.

  The snow was now falling lightly, and he noticed that there were fewer people in the lobby while some were leaving.

  “Excuse me,” he stopped a man who was hurrying to the exit. “Are the roads clear?”

  “The Buffalo Thruway is clear. Where are you headed?”

  “I’m heading back to California,” he replied.

  “Then you need a hotel. No flights are leaving for a couple of days,” the man informed him, though he knew that already. “Good luck.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded as the man hurried out.

  The idea of going to his father gnawed at him. He’d quickly pushed the thought aside until now. Two days was nothing. He’d been through tougher situations than sitting in an airport for two days.

  He went back to the lobby, and as soon as he was inside, his eyes scanned the room. It wasn’t a conscious act on his part. He told himself he needed to make sure she was as far away from him as possible.

  About to give up, he headed to one of the set of empty benches when he saw her. Her gait was unsteady as though she was inebriated. Was she on something? He sat, watching to see what she would do, and then it happened. His heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t a familiar reaction on his part, and it startled him.

  Gael turned away from the girl and pulled his cell from his pocket. He needed to see if the Wi-Fi was still available. Then he heard the thud, and he raised his eyes. She was lying in a heap on the floor, and what happened next was the weirdest thing. His heart skipped a few beats before it began beating at a semi-erratic pace. In a few long strides, he was crouching beside her.

  “What the hell am I doing?” he muttered. “Hello,” he said, nudging her.

  She didn’t move. Without thinking, he placed the back of his hand on her forehead, withdrawing it instantly as it scorched his skin.

  “She’s burning up.”

  In one smooth move, he scooped her up, taking her to the benches. En route, her eyes cracked open. “Hey,” she drowsily said. “Put me down.”

  “Gladly,” he uttered, laying her down on the bench where she immediately slumped. “Have you taken anything for this bug you have?” he proceeded to ask.

  This was out of character for Gael. He could not recall the last time he cared enough about anyone to inquire about their welfare. He told himself that he was only being human since there was hardly anyone around.

  “Hmm?” she murmured.

  “Can you hear me?”

  “Stop shouting,” she mumbled. “I’m not deaf.” Her voice slurred.

  “Have you taken anything?” he asked, lowering his voice.

  Fumbling around her coat pocket, she brought out an empty flu medicine bottle. A line creased his forehead as he took it from her and examined it. Her hand brushed his, and her fingers scorched his skin. He clenched his teeth together, thinking about what to do with her. This was no place for a sick person.

  “Did you drink the entire bottle?” He noted the dosage, one teaspoon every four hours. She must have downed the entire whole bottle in a few gulps. “Now look at you,” he muttered. “Where is little miss toughness now?”

  “Jerk!” he heard her clearly, though it came out as a groan. She tried to raise herself up, pointed a wobbly finger. “You think because …” she blinked and then her eyes drooped. “I hate you, Gael Matheson!” She slumped back to her laying position, her face upturned, and the cap falling away.

  “What?” He was sure she said his name. “What did you say?” He shook her, wanting to make sure he heard right. She did not respond.

  His eyes settled on her lips, then traveled over her face. He must admit that she had a pretty face … naturally pretty. She had on little to no makeup. Her thick lashes brushed her
cheeks with her perfectly arched brows. However, what impressed him the most was her skin, how it glowed under the fluorescent light of the lobby.

  That niggling feeling that he knew her came crashing back. She called him by name; he was certain he heard correctly. They had not introduced themselves; therefore, there was no way she’d know who he was.

  Something vibrated, interrupting his digest. Tearing his eyes away, he grabbed the phone from his pocket.

  “Gael Matheson,” he said, his voice impatient.

  Beth was on the line. “Sir, where are you?”

  “At the airport still. Beth, I need that vehicle. Can you get it to me as soon as possible?”

  “Yes, are you okay?” she inquired, concern in her voice.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Just get me that vehicle.”

  Chapter 7

  Having no idea what came over him, Gael bundled the girl with the rainbow hair into the back seat of the SUV Beth arranged. As he slowly maneuvered the vehicle through the falling snow on the icy roadway, he cursed under his breath.

  “What the fu …!” he clenched his jaw. “What the hell am I doing?”

  Glancing at the rearview mirror, he chanced a look at her. She was sound asleep on the back seat, knocked out from having an entire bottle of flu medicine.

  The dashboard showed the time and 9:41 p.m. He hoped that his father would be home and not in some bar bingeing his sorrows away. The last time they met, his young wife had left him for a richer man. That’s why he resigned himself to bachelorhood for life. No woman would get his hooks into him the way that girl had wormed her way into his father’s life.

  His mother was no different. Not only did she cheat on his father, but she left him when the going got tough to marry a Russian oligarch. No, he would never subject himself to that kind of bondage only to have his family torn apart the way his did. No child of his would live the kind of life he had.

  “Hmm,” a murmur came from the back seat before an eruption of groans.

  Ten miles later, he was pulling into his father’s driveway on Central Avenue. As he pulled the vehicle to a stop, he stared through the windscreen at the two-story house. Lights were on, and music came from inside. There were no other cars in the drive; therefore, he doubted there was a party. Still he hesitated.

  Another groan from behind broke through the silence and his thoughts. He turned, touching her forehead, noting that the fever hadn’t reduced. He needed to get her inside where she could warm up, but he wasn’t keen on seeing his father.

  Before he could make up his mind, the front door opened, and a man about six feet with graying brown hair stepped onto the porch. Dressed in a bright sweater with Christmas patterns, he craned his neck to see.

  “Who is there?” the man asked. “Show yourself, or I’ll call the police.”

  That’s how Gael made up his mind. He could have just started the vehicle and gone back on the road, but he had nowhere else to return but the airport. The need to care for a complete stranger who’d been nothing but hostile to him won.

  He opened the door and stepped from the vehicle. “It’s me, Dad.”

  “Scooch?” the man asked, obvious surprise in his voice.

  “Yes, Dad,” he replied.

  Senior Matheson stepped from the porch and strolled down the drive, about twelve feet, to where the SUV stood. “I can’t believe it,” he breathed. “What are you waiting for? Come in out of the cold. Another storm is on its way.”

  “I’m not alone,” he replied.

  Mr. Matheson peered inside the car. “Bring her in. There’s plenty of room.”

  Without a word, Gael opened the back passenger door while his father looked expectantly for his companion. He leaned in and scooped up the girl in his arms, kicking the door shut with his heel.

  “Is she alright?”

  “No, she’s got a fever, and she’s been sneezing and sniffling all day.”

  Mr. Matheson stepped forward, beckoning him to come. He led him inside through the large living room, up the stairs, and down the passage. Three doors down, he pushed and switched on a light. The room was warm, with baby pink walls, pink floral curtains, and matching bed linen. Gael couldn’t help being amused that his friend would just hate the pinkness of it all.

  His father closed the door softly, leaving him to tend to her. However, he had no clue what to do. He pulled off her boots and eased her from her coat. When he pulled the hat from her head, he winced at the hair.

  Touching a hand to her forehead, he noted that her fever was still raging. He retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom, which he moistened under the tap with cold water. He then placed it on the forehead and waited a few minutes before wetting it again and repeating the process. After about fifteen minutes of this, he tucked her in, and then went back downstairs.

  “You will sleep in your old bedroom, no?” his father asked as he passed through the living room. “Or stay with her, it doesn’t matter,” he added.

  He kept moving toward the front door. “I’ll take my own bedroom.”

  “I’m happy that you came home,” the man added.

  Gael paused and turned. “Don’t be too happy. I only came because of her.” He jutted his head toward the stairs.

  “I know. Still, you’re here, and you brought a girl home for the first time.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. She’s not a girl.”

  “Huh?” Mr. Matheson’s baby soft blue eyes widened. “She’s a trans …?”

  “No, she is a girl … hell.” The conversation was uncomfortable.

  “Oh, you mean, she’s not your girlfriend?”

  “Right,” he replied, turning away. “I’m going to get the bags.”

  When he returned, his father was waiting at the bottom of the stairs looking sheepish. He came forward as Gael entered, seemingly with something on his mind.

  “Scooch …”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  David Matheson nodded. “Okay, I won’t call you that. There’s something you need to know.”

  “Honey?” a woman’s voice came from upstairs. “Do we have company?”

  Gael raised his eyes as a woman clad in the same matching Christmas sweater as the man of the house, came hesitantly down the steps. When she saw Gael, she halted, her mouth gaped and eyes widening. His chest tightened upon seeing her, and he crunched his teeth together. How stupid was his father to take her back after she walked out?

  “Gael?”

  His stepmother, a woman three years older, came down and stood before him. His height towered her by about half a foot. She looked well, with her neatly brushed honey blonde hair and her expertly applied makeup. Then his mind flicked to his friend.

  “Hello, Marla.” He nodded his greeting. “I’ll go check on her and take a well-needed shower. I’ll be down in a few.”

  “Who?” Marla asked her husband.

  “His friend. She isn’t feeling very well,” David replied as Gael moved away.

  As he took the stairs, he shook his head. He was unable to fathom that the woman who had walked out on his father for another man was back. Was he the only one in his family to see the trend? If one is going to run around, don’t get married. He certainly wasn’t planning to.

  He pushed the door to the bedroom and placed her luggage inside. It was the first time since meeting her that he was actually curious about her name. He couldn’t very well keep referring to her as ‘the girl.’ She was still asleep, so he closed the door softly and strode to his bedroom situated across the hall, placing his back on a chair against the wall.

  Thankfully, the room had its own bath, and he stripped off his jacket, hung it in the closet before removing the rest of his clothes. Naked, he made his way into the bathroom, thinking of his ‘friend’ across the hall. What was her deal? Who was she?

  His curiosity mounted as he adjusted the shower to his desired temperature. As the hot water sprayed his skin, the room steamed. His mind kept going back to her, recalling their fi
rst encounter. Absently, he picked up the shampoo and squirted some on his large hands, then lathered his muscled chest and abs.

  As his hand brushed his cock, he recalled his brief encounter with the stewardess and the girl’s reaction to it. He soaped himself, all the while trying to figure her out. Then her lips flashed before him, her beautifully formed pink lips.

  The thought startled him. But he was right. He had thought the same thing when he observed her sleeping on the plane. The events of the night and entire day played back in his mind until he saw her, and his heart skipped a beat.

  It skipped a beat even now, as he thought of the way she felt in his arms when he picked her up. She’d mumbled incoherently, and at one point, wrapped her arms around his neck. He’d felt an unfamiliar sensation rush through him. He wanted to protect her. It had been strange, and he counted it down to her being a girl, and that she was ill.

  Unsure of what brought it on, he looked down at his erect penis with a grunt. With some frustration, he turned the tap on cold and allowed the water to cool his body. Steam rose from his shoulders as his manhood slowly returned to normal.

  “Now behave.” He chuckled, turning off the tap.

  When he went back down, his father and wife were waiting in the living room. They stood expectantly as though they’d been waiting for his return. He waited for them to speak.

  “I know what this looks like, but there are things you don’t know,” David said.

  “Please, it’s none of my business,” he replied, holding a hand up.

  Marla’s smile faded, but she managed to ask, “How is your friend?”

  “What’s her name?” David asked.

  “Actually, I don’t know her name.” Marla and David looked at each other, but they both said nothing. “We met at the airport in Santa Cruz. We aren’t exactly friends.” He noted their puzzled expressions and sought to allay their suspicions. “She got sick, and I couldn’t leave her alone in the airport, now could I?”