“I’m not worthy of this life,” Kane whispers, evidently aware of my presence. “I don’t deserve this beauty.”
His comment catches me off-guard, but its nature doesn’t surprise me. “Everyone deserves beauty, Kane.”
“You really believe that?”
“Yes. I think an appreciation of beauty is what makes us human.”
“That Ethan guy was certainly appreciating yours,” he grumbles.
“And that bothers you?”
“Haleakala means house of the sun,” he says, ignoring my question. “It’s a spiritually important place where the demigod, Maui, lassoed the sun to make the days longer.” We stand together watching the sky light up like a painter’s canvas, and he turns to face me. “Your hair reminds me of the sunrise. Like fire.”
I’m drawn to him like a magnet at dawn. I keep my eyes locked with his and take a tiny step closer, noticing how his nostrils flare. I take another step anyways, craning my neck up to meet his eyes.
“Ashley, don’t.”
I feign innocence. “Don’t what?”
“You know what.” It feels like he’s towering above me. His hands are clenched in fists by his sides and when I rise onto my toes, he steps back and looks away, breaking the connection.
“Ashley…” He whispers but doesn’t say anything more.
A ball forms in my chest, and I try to clasp the pain with my hand. I’ve been rejected once again; in fact, I walked right into it.
“It’s fine,” I say, wrapping my arms around my body like a suit of armor.
Kane lets his hands fall to his sides. “Don’t say it’s fine.”
“What do you want me to say? I get it, ok. You’re not into me.”
He fumbles for words. “It’s not that. I can’t…”
I’ve never seen him so uncertain, but I’m not in a particularly forgiving mood. “Just spit it out Kane! Whatever you need to say, just say it and put me out of my misery.”
“It’s not something I can easily explain,” he hedges.
I laugh, perhaps a bit too harshly. “Then forget I even came out here. We should get back anyway.” I take two steps away from him; a haunted look flashes in his eyes, but he doesn’t argue.
Back at the cabin, Lance is awake and packing up. His eyebrows furrow when he sees Kane and I approaching, backs ablaze with the sun. “Everything ok?” He asks.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Everything’s fine. We were just checking out the sunrise.”
“For sure,” he says, relaxing at my explanation. “It’s unreal isn’t it?”
I nod and give him my best smile. After waking up Taylor and Kayla, I stuff my swollen and blistering feet back into my running shoes. The first few steps are painful enough that I don’t think I’ll make it, but Kane answers that question for me in a flash, sliding my backpack over his shoulder.
“You can hate me all you like, but I’m not going to watch you suffer.”
“You can’t carry two bags, Kane,” I say, exasperated.
“I can and I will. Discussion over.”
As much as I want to throw the gesture right back in his face, I probably do need his help. The stag guys are still snoring away when we depart. Lance leaves them a brief thank you note and proceeds to lead us out the way we came. A rainbow enrobes the sky as we ascend from the valley floor. Lance points out a cluster of Nene birds, which are basically Hawaiian geese. He tells me that Haleakala has more endangered species than any national park in the world.
We hike to the summit on a series of switchbacks, facing an elevation gain of about a thousand feet, our breath stifled the higher we climb. Only outside of the crater does the warm weather return and the familiar sliding sands finally come into view. The hike takes all day. When I finally catch a glimpse of the parking lot, I almost cry out in relief. Kayla and I say goodbye to Lance at the car, giving him a big hug with zero concern for his B.O. profile. He hugs me back and whispers in my ear.
“I know how hard this must have been for you, but you survived it—not a lot of people can say that. I’m proud of you.”
He kisses my cheek, and I pull away before I start bawling. The words mean more than he knows. This experience isn’t something I would have accomplished with Dale, and though it was grueling and out of my comfort zone, at least it’s my own. Lance and I part ways, and Kane steps between us to hand me my bag. I mutter a thank you without meeting his eyes. Kayla is already in the passenger seat and she doesn’t look happy—in fact, she looks pissed. I throw my bag into the back and ease myself into the driver’s seat, nursing the rocks in my quads.
“Trouble in paradise?” I tease.
Kayla gives me an evil look. “I don’t know what gives Taylor the right to think he can boss me around. We’re nothing to each other—less than nothing.”
I want to ask what happened, but she’ll probably just bite my head off, so I go for solidarity instead. “Maybe they’re all like that; Hawaiian men, I mean.”
“Hey, don’t blame Hawaii for their testosterone-fueled idiocy, but at least you got it half right: Men. You’re learning, my little grasshopper.”
I start the engine and pull out of the lot.
“So where we headed?” She asks.
“Well, I need a shower in a big way, but first…pancakes.”
“Yasss…” Kayla hisses out, clapping with more enthusiasm than I’ve ever seen from her. “And bacon—lots of bacon. It makes sense. We should do something to celebrate your first backcountry hike.”
“Correction, my dear friend. We are celebrating my first—and my last—backcountry hike.”
“I’ll eat to that,” she says, and we speed off down the highway, in hot pursuit of an all-day breakfast joint.
Chapter 11
The following Tuesday evening, we’re back at the bar sharing horror stories from our hike with Pancho and Adele. I can tell they’re surprised that I managed to complete it without dying, especially as I describe my massive lingering blisters to Adele.
“Alright, okay,” Lance begins, “maybe I got a little carried away with Haleakala. Am I forgiven?” He gives me a pair of puppy dog eyes.
“Of course you are!” I say, giggling.
“I can do baby steps, too, you know.” He wiggles his cute eyebrows—and damn if he isn’t totally into me.
He doesn’t seem to think much of Kane’s warning, so I match his smile with a grin of my own. “What kind of baby steps did you have in mind?”
Lance opens his mouth to answer, but we’re interrupted by the sound of glass shattering. Kane has dropped a beer mug on the ground, earning him a collective groan from the other patrons. His back is turned away from us, and before I can offer my help, he stomps off into the back area.
“If you haven’t seen Ho’okipa Beach yet, I could show you some of my surfing moves—or there’s windsurfing, if you’d prefer that.”
I shake my head, remembering my last mishap with water sports. “Probably neither, but watching you works for me. I’d love to see the beach.”
“Then dinner in Makawao afterwards? There’s an awesome Italian place in town that also features live bands.”
Kane chooses this exact moment to return from the back, carrying a broom and dustpan. He looks even more pissed off than before, if that’s possible. I watch as he sweeps up the shards of glass, but not even once does he look my way.
“Ashley?” Lance waves his hand before my face like I’m blind.
“Yes, Lance?”
“So what do you think? People watching at Ho’okipa, followed by dinner in Makawao?”
I’m about to spit out the word “no,” but I can’t think of any good reason not to accept his invitation. I’m here in this beautiful place, meeting new people and making new friends, and here’s one right in front of me who’s kind, uncomplicated, and willing to show me what makes Maui special.
“Sure, Lance. That sounds nice.”
“How about tomorrow night?”
“I’
m free.”
“Then it’s a date.”
I cringe at the word date. He’s cute, but my head is all over the place and I don’t want to lead him on. Kane drops another glass and it shatters against the floor like a comet.
“Fuck!” He explodes. Everyone falls silent at his outburst. A tipsy young tourist stumbles to the bar and leans over the back of my chair, shouting at Kane.
“Dude, that’s like seven years of bad luck!”
It’s a stupid comment from some sunburned college kid, but as soon as the words leave her mouth, Kane’s face blanches. I hear Pancho hissing through his teeth from a few seats down, as Kane tosses the bar towel on the floor and hightails it outside. Naturally, all I can think is what-in-the-actual-hell was that? Taylor appears behind the bar and exchanges a few quiet words with Pancho. His mouth is drawn and he looks worried.
On his way out, he stops by my stool. “Did you see which way he went, Ashley?”
“He went through the front, but I didn’t see what direction. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he spits out. The accusing look on his face makes me feel that this is all my fault. I can’t imagine how one little comment could set Kane off like that, but clearly he’s no master of controlling his temper.
“Well, I think that’s enough drama for one night, don’t you?” Lance tips his glass at me, and I’m grateful at his attempt to lighten the mood.
“Agree. I think I’m going to head back home.”
Lance slides off his stool. “Can I walk you?”
“I got her,” Pancho says, appearing behind my seat.
“You don’t have to, Pancho.”
“Never mind, it’s aʻohe pilikia…since you’re staying right by me.”
Lance shrugs and smiles, leaning in to kiss my cheek. I feel absolutely nothing when his lips graze my skin, not even the slightest tingle, but still the gesture is sweet.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow around two, if that works for you?”
“Sounds great,” I answer, but my mind is elsewhere. I’m staring at the door through which Kane just disappeared, trying to ignore my disappointment about tomorrow’s plans. If only it were Kane taking me to dinner; if only he wanted me more than Lance.
• • •
I thank Pancho for walking me home alone nonetheless. It’s a beautiful night, the stars like a snowstorm in the sky, and I’m not ready to call it a night upon arriving at my suite. I kick off my shoes and roam around the grounds, taking care to avoid the beach. Kane never said anything about the yard, however, and I figure he can’t yell at me for stepping on the grass. With my sandals dangling from one hand, I walk the perimeter of the lawn, stopping only to watch the impressive whitewalls cresting and crashing into the rocky shoreline.
The night feels alive with the hum of crickets in pitch black darkness, but it doesn’t bother me. The air is a heady perfume of exotic flowers and the prickly lawn soothes my soles as I walk. There’s something about this place that’s hard to put into words, but it makes me feel safe in a way that I haven’t known since I was a child. As I near Kane’s house, I can make out one pinprick of light bouncing ahead in the darkness. It grows larger and brighter until I’m face to face—or rather face to chest—with Kane himself, his flashlight eyeing me like a lighthouse. I assume he’s about to yell at me for invading his privacy, but instead he just hands me the flashlight.
“Thought you might need this.” He illuminates his face with a second flashlight, and the lines of his skin are fierce, even in the muted glow.
“Thank you. It’s really kind of peaceful without it though,” I say, shrugging. “I like following the moonlight.”
His gaze is unwavering. “I’d feel better if you had it.”
“Then I’ll keep it.” I point the beam of light at him with a smile.
“What are you doing up?” I ask.
“I could ask you the same.” He barks back, but the words are softened by the appearance of a half-smile.
“It’s a beautiful night. I couldn’t resist taking a walk around. Now your turn.”
“I don’t sleep much.” He doesn’t offer anything more, nor does he turn away. Instead we stare at each other in silence, bathed in the yellow glow of our flashlights.
“So you’re really going to Ho’okipa tomorrow?”
“Why not? I’ve never seen it before, and Lance seems nice.” I drop my eyes to the ground, shifting from foot-to-foot.
“Yeah, a lot of women seem to think so.” He lets go of a short laugh.
If this is Kane’s way of revealing that Lance is a player, fine, but he can save the passive-aggression for someone else.
“I’m sure I’ll be in good hands.”
I notice how his body tenses, and he speaks so softly that I almost can’t hear him. “Don’t go.”
“Why Kane? Why shouldn’t I go?”
The tension in the air is palpable; the only sounds are the crashing waves and Kane’s uneven breath between us. I wait another full minute for an answer, and when I don’t get one, I sigh aloud.
“Good night, Kane.” I flick off the flashlight but keep it in my hand, choosing to walk in darkness back to my suite, guided by nothing more than my own sheer will and the dim light of the moon.
Chapter 12
Lance picks me up in an old mint green Volkswagen Westfalia. A couple of surfboards are mounted on the roof. I’m surprised that the car still runs, given the sputtering sound it makes. He parks and comes around to open my door, which I think is really sweet. Once we’re both settled, he backs down the driveway and I peek at Kane’s place through the windshield. Even though the blinds are drawn, I swear I see them move.
“So are vans like mandatory for surfers?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Easy on the old girl. She’s all I could afford when I moved here five years ago. I love her too much now to part with her.”
“Loyalty—I like that.” I tap the glove box in front of me. “Sorry girl, I meant no disrespect.”
When I glance over, Lance is watching me instead of the road. “With a smile like that, you’re always forgiven.” He gives me a wink and I feel myself blush.
“Where did you move from?” I realize that I hadn’t had a chance to ask him, which was hardly surprising given all of Kane’s interruptions.
“Big Sur.” He smiles. “You’re from San Fran, right?”
“Yep, we’re both California babies.”
“Through and through. I miss it sometimes, but Hawaii’s just got this energy about it—this place is its own living, breathing thing.”
“I think it’s called Mana…Pancho was saying something about it.”
“Sounds like Pancho,” he says. “One thing is for sure, the beauty is undeniable.”
“That’s what I’m learning.”
We chat like two old friends reunited at long last. The road winds and winds but time seems to fly by regardless. Lance points to a beach in the east, as we begin our descent down a steep hill. “There she is.” He gives me a wild grin. “Ho’okipa.”
We pull into the crowded parking lot and luck out with a free space. I clamber from the van and wander to the beach, while Lance hops up to deal with the boards. It’s not as big as I imagined, but it’s buzzing with energy. Skinny palms dot the short, dry grass, and everywhere there are surfers waxing boards, guys sitting on circles of coolers—drinking beer and laughing like Gods—while beautiful girls sprawl on tanning towels below. I approach the rock wall, noticing a lifeguard shelter on one side and a picnic shelter on the other, like a makeshift frame for the cresting ocean and thunderous waves.
Lance appears beside me, as my jaw drops open like a drawbridge. “You’re going to surf that?”
“Nothing better.” He bobs his head at two guys passing by with surfboards. “It’s big today, so I’m going to get a tow out. You’ll be ok here?”
He skims his free hand down my bare arm. It’s not lost on me that the gesture doesn’t even give me goose b
umps. “I’m good here. Go do your thing.”
He suits up and I learn what he means by tow out—there’s a jet ski on the beach giving rides out to the expanse of ocean beyond the breaking waves. Already there are dozens of surfers on the horizon, alongside a congregation of windsurfers, their colorful sails making kaleidoscopes of the landscape. I walk down to the sand and dig a towel from my bag, figuring I might as well catch a tan. I shed my sundress and lounge out in my yellow bikini. It’s one of my favorites, with straps that wrap all the way from my chest to my waist, but there’s not much of it. I lather on the SPF60 sunscreen and settle in to watch Lance.
Set after set, I’m captivated by the physical and mental strength required by the sport. He looks so confident in the waves, even after getting pounded by the swell. It looks exhilarating until he’s thrown from his board—and then it’s terrifying—and certainly not something I’m brave enough to try. The wind is blowing like crazy, turning my hair into a rat’s nest, so I pile it onto my head in what I hope passes for a bun. I’m sure it looks awful, but at least it lets me give Lance my full and uninterrupted attention. About an hour later, he paddles back to shore, grinning from ear-to-ear. I feel strangely proud—not that I did anything myself—but because I actually know someone who can do something like this.
Lance halts at the base of my towel, dripping all over my legs. His messy blond hair is now plastered to his head, and I release a squeal when he shakes it out on me. “That’s freezing!”
He shrugs. “You’ll get used to it.” Lance plants his board in the sand and unzips his suit. His eyes don’t leave me as he strips off his wetsuit, and I notice him swallow hard as they dip down to my chest. “You look like sunshine in that yellow bikini.”
Aloha in Love Page 9
