Sunscreen & Coconuts

by Eliza Lentzski

  “You mean they turned into assholes,” she noted.

  “I suppose so.”

  “Your parents—did they freak out when you told them you were gay?”

  My laugh came out like an explosion of sound.

  Kate arched an eyebrow at my reaction. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “I Came Out to my mom during summer break from college. She refused to acknowledge the conversation. She basically told me it was nonsense, and we never talked about it again.” I jammed my hands into my pockets. “I could have brought it up again,” I conceded, “but I don’t have the time or the energy for her.”

  “What’s your dad like?” she asked.

  “More of the same. Quiet. Serious. Conservative.” I exhaled sharply. “That’s why I went to Curaçao for Christmas. I like to see my parents as little as reasonably possible. They don’t put up much of a fuss about me not visiting, either. I think it’s easier for everyone involved. They get to pretend they don’t have a gay daughter, and I don’t have to be continually reminded that my parents are ashamed of me.”

  I bit down on the insides of my cheeks. I’d said more—much more—than I’d intended. Once I’d started, the words wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t even blame alcohol for the over-share. I tried to gather my thoughts for airing dirty laundry or making her feel uncomfortable, but she beat me to it.

  “I suppose I should thank your parents,” she remarked.

  “For what?”

  “If they weren’t so horrible, we probably wouldn’t have met.”

  I swatted her arm. “What a line!” I scolded.

  She turned toward me, grinning and presumably proud of her effort. I was tempted to let my hand linger a little longer on her arm, but I had no business doing so. I shoved my hand back into my coat pocket instead.

  “This is nice,” I observed. “I’ve never actually come down here for New Years Eve. I’ve always watched it at home on TV.”

  “That’s no fun,” she said. “Who do you kiss at midnight?”

  I left her question unanswered, although I doubted she’d actually been expecting a response. It brought back the memory of our first and only kiss. Thinking about her strong arms around me and the intensity and neediness of her mouth warmed my body despite the brisk, winter night.

  I heard Kate take a deep breath and slowly exhale.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Mmhm,” she confirmed. “Just taking it in.”

  I wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but I nodded solemnly.

  “Want to keep wandering?” she asked me.

  I nodded. “Please.”

  We continued to walk around the park, admiring the sculpted ice and sampling more food and drink from the various vendors. We stopped at the stage to watch a local band perform original songs. I didn’t recognize any of the music, but that didn’t hinder my enjoyment.

  We stood side-by-side near the back of the assembled crowd. I observed Kate in my peripheral vision, admiring the way the multi-colored lights from the stage played off the sharp contours of her face. She was really beautiful. Long eyelashes, high cheekbones, pursed expressive mouth. Her wool trench coat was tapered at the waist and couldn’t hide her long, lean figure.

  If I’d seen her from afar at a Boston coffee shop instead of a saltwater pool in Curaçao I might have made different assumptions about her. The clothing and the context would have changed it all. Married, maybe. With small children. An artist for sure, perhaps a graphic designer or web developer. A runner, with aspirations to participate in the marathon.

  I didn’t know what I’d expected when I’d accepted her offer to spend New Years Eve with her and her family, but this certainly wasn’t it. I’d spent the majority of the day in a state of disequilibrium, and I was only starting to regain my bearings. But as I mentally noted the passage of time and the uncomfortable fact that midnight was approaching, an all new origin of unease began to take residence in my thoughts—was I going to kiss her at midnight? Did she want to be kissed?

  “Damn it,” I mumbled.

  “Is everything alright?” she asked.

  “Yeah. But I forgot I told Racy I would meet up with her later. Her office paid for a big party at the top of the Prudential Center.”

  “Do you need to go?” she asked, looking concerned. “Do you want me to give you a ride?”

  I didn’t have the chance to respond. The band on stage wrapped up their final song and a man in a tuxedo stepped out from the wings.

  “Alright everybody, it’s almost that time,” he announced into his microphone. “Grab your sweetheart and get ready to ring in the new year. The anticipation has been building all night, but we’re almost there.”

  All around us, the crowds began to count down to the new year.

  “Ten!”

  How had it gotten so late?

  “Nine!”

  Hadn’t we just gotten there?

  “Eight!”

  Oh, shit. I wasn’t ready for this.

  “Seven!”

  I probably had donut stuck in my teeth.

  “Six!”

  I wondered if she’d still taste like sunscreen.

  “Five!”

  We shared what I thought was a nervous look. Why did she look so uncomfortable?

  “Four!”

  I watched her mouth curl into a half smile.

  “Three!”

  Where had all those seconds gone?

  “Two!”

  Had she just stepped closer, or had she been nudged toward me by the jostling crowd?

  “One!”

  Crap.

  “Happy New Year!”

  I didn’t know what to do. All around us, people were cheering and laughing and kissing. This was the one moment in which it wouldn’t be too forward for me to kiss her. Hell, she’d kissed me once already that day. But if I kissed her, what did it mean? When we were in Curaçao, I was able to dismiss our activities as a vacation fling. I’d only been having a little fun on my break. It was a foreign country and therefore it didn’t count. But now I’d been to her house. I’d met her family. I couldn’t kiss her at midnight, too. It was all getting too serious.

  The moment passed while I hung back, frozen with indecision. But I couldn’t help noticing that she hadn’t taken the plunge either. Maybe she’d been waiting on me to make a move, since she’d already initiated a kiss once that evening.

  “Happy New Year, Mercy,” she said.

  A small smile reached my mouth. “Happy New Year,” I returned.

  I leaned forward and kissed her cheek, close to her temple. My lips were warm against her cold skin.

  I leaned back. “You’re cold.” It wasn’t a question. Her teeth were practically chattering.

  Kate made a face. “I guess I lost my Arctic blood living so close to the Equator.”

  “Do you want to find a bar to warm up?”

  I should have recommended she go home, but I didn’t really want the night to end, even though technically, it was already the next day.

  “I thought you had to meet up with your bad friend. Besides, every place is gonna be wicked crowded,” she observed.

  I nodded in resigned agreement. The city’s bars were always crowded, but it would probably be even worse than usual that night.

  “We could go to my hotel?” she offered. “It’s not too far from here.”

  “You’re not staying with your parents?” I was too surprised by the information that I didn’t entirely register that she’d asked me back to her hotel.

  “Their house makes me feel claustrophobic.”

  “It’s a mansion.” I couldn’t help my comment, although I knew exactly what she meant.

  “My room has a mini bar,” she noted, steering the conversation back on its original path.

  “I-I …” I wanted to. But I probably shouldn’t. How did I see this evening ending? How did I want it to end? I hadn’t thought that far in advance.

  “I’m being pushy, sorry.�
�

  “No, you’re not,” I insisted. “I’ve had a really fun night. And I want to keep having fun. With you. But if we go back to your hotel room …”

  I couldn’t complete my thought. I let the unfinished statement hang in the air between us.

  I watched her lick her lips. A chill ripped down my spine despite my thick winter coat.

  “Yeah,” she husked. “You’re right. We should probably say goodnight.”

  I exhaled. “Let me walk you to your hotel.”

  It was a short, but brisk walk from Copley Square to the hotel where Kate was staying. The wind had picked up, and unlike the ocean breezes in Curaçao, Boston’s winter wind was unforgiving. I popped the collar of my winter coat to stave off the worst of the winter breeze.

  Thankfully it wasn’t too long before Kate stopped in front of a boutique hotel on one of the main streets.

  “This is me,” she announced.

  I craned my neck to look up to the upper-most floor. “Penthouse suite, right?” I said, only half kidding.

  “I told you—it’s my parents’ money, not mine.”

  I still didn’t know the difference.

  “I’m not rich,” she continued to insist.

  “Right,” I scoffed. “Because wealth is all subjective.”

  “I opted out of the family trust when I went to Curaçao.”

  “Are you being serious?”

  She nodded. “It was too much of a hassle. I wanted to make art and my family thought it was a waste of time. We fought about it my entire college career. I asked to be written out of the estate so I could do my own thing. If they’re not holding money over me, I can do whatever I want. I’m not beholden to them.”

  “That’s a lot of money.”

  “Money can’t buy me happiness,” she explained with a withering smile.

  “Always with the lines,” I scolded.

  “Can I call you a cab?” she offered. “I don’t have a cell phone, but there’s a landline in my room.”

  I jerked my thumb in the direction from which we’d just come. “No, that’s okay. I think I saw a subway station around the corner.”

  “Let me get you a ride. I don’t like the idea of you being on the subway this late by yourself,” she frowned.

  “I’ll be fine.” I’d never ridden the subway that late before, but I wasn’t really worried. It was a safe city as long as you used a little common sense.

  “Do it for my sanity?” she pressed. “I’m only going to worry about you after you’ve gone.”

  I wanted to remind her that I had a cell phone and was perfectly capable of finding my way back home, but she looked so determined, I hated to point out the obvious.

  “Fine,” I relented. “For your sanity.”

  She grinned with the victory and held the hotel door open for me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The hotel lobby was fairly busy for the late hour, but not for the holiday. Our boots clicked on the lobby’s marble floors as we headed for the elevators. I stared pointedly when Kate pushed the elevator button for the hotel’s second-highest floor.

  “See? Not the penthouse,” she said, almost proudly.

  The elevator was empty, as was the hallway outside of her room. I’d expected to see or at least hear some New Years celebrations, but instead the upper floors of the hotel were eerily quiet.

  Kate unlocked and held open her door for me. “Can I get your coat?” she asked.

  How long did I intend to stay?

  She was behind me, helping me out of the goose down jacket before I could make up my mind.

  Kate folded my jacket over an office chair. “Be right back. I gotta pee.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Help yourself to whatever,” she said before slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door.

  I took a look around the room, which was large for one person. The king-sized bed was accompanied by a sitting area and a miniature kitchen. The room might have been only slightly smaller than her Curaçao house. I opened the miniature refrigerator and inspected its contents. Mini booze bottles filled the top shelf. I didn’t know what kind of alcohol Kate preferred, so I shut the door, still beleaguered by indecision.

  I was drawn to the far side of the hotel room. The curtains had been pulled back to reveal the night sky. I stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the cityscape below. Multi-colored holiday lights covered the trees and street lamps.

  I looked away from the window at the sound of a toilet flushing and the bathroom faucet turning on and off. Kate emerged from the bathroom moments later.

  “Your room is nice,” I remarked.

  “I know. There’s no poultry running free.”

  “Who’s looking after Dog while you’re here?” I’d nearly forgotten about Kate’s pet chicken.

  “She’s actually pretty self-sufficient. You’d be surprised how much she takes care of herself.”

  We stood in admittedly awkward silence as we stared out the room’s windows. Conversation had come so easily all evening, but now I couldn’t get out of my head. I should have kissed her at midnight. I’d wanted to kiss her, but I’d been too busy analyzing what that meant that I’d missed my opportunity. I wondered if I’d messed things up. She’d kissed me so fiercely in the corridor of her parents’ house before. The least I could have done was meet her halfway.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted out.

  Kate’s features furrowed in confusion and concern. “What for?”

  “For not kissing you at midnight. I wanted to,” I rushed to explain, “but I got inside my head and psyched myself out. And before I could do anything about it, the moment had passed.”

  Her eyebrows had risen higher on her forehead while I’d tried to excuse my cowardice. By the time I’d finished my confession I was surprised they hadn’t vacated her forehead.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I wanted you to know, and that I feel really bad about it.”

  Kate didn’t say anything. I hated the silence, but I’d used up all of my words. Unexpectedly, she walked away from me and grabbed the digital clock off the bedside table. She fiddled with its top buttons while I remained silently confused.

  She returned the alarm clock to the end table and angled the clock so its big red numbers were in my view: 11:59.

  My breath hitched in my throat once I realized what she’d done.

  Her steps toward me were soft, but deliberate. She kept her eyes downcast as she crossed the room, but I could hear her clear voice:

  “Ten.”

  Another step closer.

  “Nine,” she counted down.

  One more step.

  “Eight.”

  She stopped in front of me.

  “Seven.”

  She lifted her eyes to lock onto mine.

  “Six.”

  My eyes lowered to her mouth.

  “Five.”

  She licked her bottom lip.

  “Four.”

  We didn’t make it to three.

  I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her against me. I felt her hips connect with mine as our bodies collided. I pulled her closer until her lips crashed into mine. Her hands clutched the front of my sweater. She twisted the material in her clenched hands, nearly clawing me through my shirt in an attempt to draw me closer. It had been cold outside, but it felt like an inferno in her hotel room.

  My hands went to either side of her face. I sucked her tongue into my mouth; I could taste the residual sweetness from donuts on her. Wet, smacking noises, coupled with quiet approving moans filled my ears.

  I was addicted to her mouth. Her lips were soft, but firm against mine. She imparted the perfect amount of pressure—tender, yet aggressive, without spiraling into desperation. I only broke away from the kiss when I felt her tugging my sweater up my torso. I lifted my arms above my head to help her pull the offending garment up and over my head.

  Without the sweater as a barrier between u
s, Kate hefted the weight of my breasts in her hands. She kissed the exposed skin above the top of my bra cups and ran her tongue along the scalloped edge. Her kisses continued to travel up the strap of my bra until she reached the area where shoulder meets neck. She sucked on the tender flesh and lightly nipped at my skin with her teeth. I felt, rather than saw, her fingers toy with the front of my jeans. Kate popped the top button free with little effort. I couldn’t contain my loud gasp when she pulled the zipper down.

  This wasn’t like me. I didn’t go up to other people’s hotel rooms after midnight. I didn’t kiss women whom I wasn’t dating, and I definitely didn’t go to bed with them. I’d been doing a lot of uncharacteristic things since meeting Kate.

  While she concentrated on working my skinny jeans over my hips, I was overcome with the urge to feel more of her skin on mine. I ran my hands down the center of her back. The entire fabric panel was smooth. Where was the zipper? I could feel the back clasp of her bra through the material of her dress, but I couldn’t find the entry point to the dress itself.

  “I have no idea how to take this off of you,” I announced.

  “Why on earth would you want to take it off?” she asked.

  I arched an aggressive eyebrow.

  Kate’s body shook with laughter. “It’s a side zipper.”

  She grabbed my hand and repositioned it to her waist so I could feel the distinct metal of the zipper’s teeth. But I still didn’t know where the zipper began or ended.

  “I’m going to need a little more help,” I admitted.

  Her hands moved to my wrists and removed my hands from her body. I was momentarily disappointed to no longer be touching her, until she walked me backwards.

  “Sit,” she instructed when the backs of my knees connected with the end of the mattress.

  I should have felt self-conscious to be in a fully lit room without my sweater and the front of my jeans undone, but it was hard to concentrate on my disheveled state of dress when it was clear that Kate was about to get out of hers.

  I sat at the end of the mattress while Kate, backlit by the glow coming from the hotel bathroom, began to unzip her dress. First, she took care of the zippers at her sides. The panels opened to reveal lightly bronzed skin underneath. She shrugged off one arm and then the next before shimmying the dress over her hips and down her legs. She stepped out of the dress entirely and removed her black leggings, leaving her in only her bra and underwear. I clenched my thighs together when a rush of emotion—definitely arousal—shot up my body.