by Penny Wylder
The thought of him consumes me. This dress is beautiful of course, but it feels special because he bought it for me. I’m doing everything in my power to keep from getting anything on it.
After his story about Johnathan, the man who raised him, I see him in a completely different light. He’s working to take care of him. I don’t know if anyone else I know would be so loyal. He’s definitely not like any guy I’ve ever met. Those are the kind of old fashioned morals and values you find in the fictional men I read about in the romance novels I love so much. They’re not real. Except this one is and everything about him has my head spinning. He’s so perfect in every way, too good to be true. If he’s for real, if there are no horrid secrets hiding in his closet, then I might never find another man like him, and that thought scares me.
“Earth to Channa,” Deb says.
Both of my friends are staring at me. “What?” I ask.
Deb points at my pocket. “Your phone keeps going off. Are you going to ignore it?”
“Oh.” I’d been so focused on my thoughts of Kain I hadn’t even heard it. When I check it, I see a text from my mom.
“My luggage arrived at my mom’s house today. What the hell?”
“Last time we take that airline,” Lillian says.
At least I bought enough clothes to last me a while. I was able to find some affordable jeans and sweatshirts. If we go anywhere nice, the dress I’m wearing will do just fine. If I could, I would never take it off.
We sit down for an early dinner at an Italian restaurant and decide to eat out on the patio since the weather is fairly decent. It drizzled most of the day, so the break in the rain feels like a relief. Deb and Lillian don’t like how chilly it gets here, but I love it. There’s something so romantic about the rain, watching couples huddle together under their umbrellas, the smell of wood smoke in the air.
“Damn, that guy is hot,” Lillian says as a man walks by wearing a rugby jersey stretched out across his muscular arms and chest. She says that about most guys who walk by.
“You like anyone with a British accent,” Deb teases her. “I thought for sure you were going to leave the club with that guy you were hanging on all night.”
“I would never bring a guy back to the flat and make the two of you listen to me bang him.” She puts her nose in the air and gets this snooty look on her face. “I have class.”
I have to look away before they see the embarrassed expression on my face. It’s a good thing they were piss drunk that night or they would’ve heard me and Kain.
“And besides,” Lillian continues, “I don’t just like guys with accents.”
“That’s right. I forgot you’re crushing on Kain.”
I almost choke on the ravioli appetizer I just shoved in my mouth. I have to wash it down with my glass of red wine which I chug as if it were beer.
“You like Kain?” I ask. My stomach sinks and my appetite vanishes completely.
Lillian puts her fingers together in a pinching motion. “Maybe just a little.” Then her fingers get further apart. She giggles and I feel awful.
Now would be the time to tell them what happened between me and Kain the night we went to the club. But I don’t know how to talk about something like that. Like, ‘Hey Lil, sorry to burst your bubble, but I had him first.’
I really, really don’t want to have that conversation right now. I already feel weird about it. I gave my virginity to a stranger, and now I’m falling for said stranger. It sounds crazy, and I absolutely don’t want my friends confirming that for me at the moment. I’m having a hard enough time with my own doubts muddying up my head.
“Kain is seriously the hottest guy I’ve seen so far,” Lillian goes on. “He came out of the shower this morning, and Oh. My. God. But it would be a bad idea if we hooked up. It’s not like it would turn into anything. He’s staying the whole month and we’ll only be here for a couple weeks. Actually, maybe that would be perfect, a little fling for my vacation? How fun would that be?”
“We should stop talking about this in front of Channa,” Deb says. “She’s a virgin and probably doesn’t want to talk about your sex life.”
I laugh nervously. I had my chance to tell them and now I’ve missed it. Our entrées arrive and my friends move the conversation onto something else. I feel like such a liar. The pit in my stomach grows and leaves no room for my meal. I just want to go back to the flat and bury myself in a book, distracting myself from the whole thing.
But Lillian’s words stick with me. We will only be here for two weeks. When we leave, Kain will still be here and that will be the end of that. Why get involved when it will end so quickly?
I sigh and pick at my food while trying to appear like nothing is wrong. Except everything feels like it’s falling apart before my eyes.
8
Kain
The clouds are thick overhead, a storm brewing over the sea. It looks angry, like it could come down on our heads at any moment. I’m finishing up on the docks for the day after loading large cargo containers onto a freight ship heading for the States. My entire body aches, but it feels good to be done with a job early enough to be able to enjoy at least a few hours of the day before going straight to bed. That’s usually how these jobs go: long days, short nights for weeks on end. It’s hard on the body but good for the pocketbook. I can work all summer long and make enough money to take the winter off and still enough money left over to take care of Johnathan and put into my home.
Two years ago I’d bought a house in a little village a few hundred miles from where I’m staying now. At one point the house had been a church. It looks like a traditional church with turret, stained glass, and steeple, and has a long, rich history. I got a good deal for it and plan to renovate it with a few modern amenities to make it comfortable for living. A little elbow grease and I can turn it into a beautiful home. There’s enough property to have a farm as well. I want to build a small cottage on one end of the property nearest to the village for Johnathan to live on. He could maintain his independence while being close enough for me to look after him.
I never thought of myself as the marrying type, and never thought I’d meet someone like Channa, but now that I have, I can see us on the farm, sitting by the fire with a couple of dogs, and maybe a children at our feet. I see it so vividly with her. She’s the one. Every fiber of my being screams it.
“Kain, it was good to see you, mate,” Roy says in his thick Scottish accent. Sounds more like ‘Keen, itwa gootta see ya mate’ when he says it. He heads down the dock with a roll of rope slung over his shoulder. He’s built like one of the cargo containers we stack: tall, boxy, heavy bones. He’s ugly as sin with his jutting chin and too close eye, but his humor and personality make up for it. Sweat has darkened his gray sweatshirt at the collar and armpits. His hair, so red it nearly glows in the shadow of the storm, sticks out in all directions.
I give him a hearty handshake and clap him on the back. “You too buddy. It’s been a while.”
Roy and I have worked several jobs together over the years. He’s grown up on the docks, around boats. In the winters he works as a crab fisherman. It’s a dangerous job but he’s just the right amount of crazy to love it.
“My sis is in town. Come have a pint with us,” Roy says. “Here she comes.”
Behind us is a leggy blonde wearing far too much makeup and a too-short skirt for what the weather permits. She struts our way and gives me a come-hither smile when Roy points at her.
“This is Jess,” Roy says.
She looks me up and down and holds her hand out to me. I give it a good shake, and when I try to let go she holds on just a bit too long. Her flirting is not subtle. I give her points for being bold.
“Nah, man, I appreciate the offer, but I have to get back to my flat.”
“Come on,” Jess says with an over-exaggerated pouty bottom lip. The dark color of her lipstick is a stark contrast to the paler skin on the inside of her lip. “It won’t be any fun without ya
.”
Roy laughs and rolls his eyes. “Well shite, maybe I should leave the two of you alone then.”
“No.” I’m quick to interject. Normally I have no problem with the long days working. They fly by because I’m working with nothing on my mind but making enough money to send back to Johnathan and fix up my home, but today is different. I haven’t been able to get Channa off my mind and all I want is for time to speed up so I can get back to her. “Sorry, I can’t. I have plans tonight.”
The girl shrugs. I think I’ve hurt her feelings. “You don’t know what you’re missing,” she says.
And I don’t care. I do know what I’m missing with Channa and I don’t want to miss any more of it if I can help it.
I give Roy another handshake and tell him goodnight. I got permission to take one of the dock trucks for the duration of my stay, so I won’t have to wait on a taxi.
Driving on the opposite side of the road, on the opposite side of the truck, sitting in what would typically be the passenger seat, can be tricky the first few miles, but it doesn’t take me long to get used to it.
I head back to the flat as fast as I can while still making sure to drive safely. The storm has unleashed itself midway back, making the roads slippery and difficult to maneuver at a faster pace. Rain pelts the windshield faster than the wipers can keep up. I wish I could close my eyes and just be back. All I want is to see Channa again.
I’m so relieved when I get back to the flat. I park in the driveway, lifting my raincoat over my head to keep from getting saturated. The muddy ground sucks at my boots, everything trying to slow me down.
Once I’m inside, I realize no one is home. I sigh. All of that rushing for nothing. But then I decide maybe it’s a good thing that she’s not back just yet. I don’t imagine I smell too great after working my ass off, and I know I’m dirty as hell, covered in rust and grit and God knows what else from the giant cargo boxes.
I send her a quick text: I’ve waited all day to see that beautiful face. When will I see you again?
I change out of my filthy clothes and turn the water on in the shower. It takes a while for it to warm up, so I shave in the sink and wait.
A minute later my phone chimes. I see Channa’s name and my heart does a little flip in my chest.
Channa: We’ll be back soon. We went to a museum.
There’s a heart emoji at the end of her words and I force myself not to read too much into it.
Me: Send me a pic.
She sends one, but it’s a picture of one of the paintings she’s looking at. I smile.
Me: Of you, pretty girl.
Channa: Oh, lol. Sorry.
She sends me a selfie of her next to a marble statue. Europe has some of the most beautiful art in the world and yet I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Channa. She belongs in that museum, as a monument, as something the world should celebrate and charge ridiculous fees to marvel at and take pictures of.
Me: Beautiful. I can’t wait to see you.
Channa: I can’t wait to see you too. Soon. I promise.
Reluctantly, I get in the shower. I don’t want to keep bombarding her with texts. I know this is her dream vacation and she wants to see all the sites. I can’t be selfish and keep her with me even though I want to.
I’m glad I bought a waterproof phone last year. I’m able to take it into the shower with me. I stare at the image of Channa until my cock starts to stir. I slowly stroke myself and picture her perfect, curvy naked body on the bed, her legs spread out while I eat her tight virgin pussy. God, that thing was amazing. She’d tasted so sweet, and her scent was addicting. The memory has my dick so hard right now that it hurts.
I pump faster, looking for some relief, stroking it while staring at the picture of Channa. I pay close attention to her lips, how full and pouty they are, and I imagine them wrapped around my cock. The daydream sends my body into overdrive. I place my phone on the little nook carved into the tile for the soap and stroke my cock even faster. I picture myself fucking that sweet pussy, how it convulsed, how it squeezed around me as she came, and the torrent of cum than poured from her when she was done. I’ve never seen a girl get as wet as she does.
Holy shit, I want her so bad.
I can’t take it anymore. My dick explodes. Ropes of cum pulse out of me, hitting the tile shower walls. I’d forgotten to breathe and have to lean against the wall and stabilize myself before I pass out.
I need her again. I want the real thing, not just the memory. I want her body wrapped up with mine. I want us so close it’s impossible to tell where she begins and I end. Just want every part of her: heart, soul, body. I want to be that couple who people can’t imagine one without the other. The kind of couple that people make up dumb nicknames for, like Kanna or Chain. I need her. The thought of her leaving at the end of the week is terrifying.
An hour later the girls arrive back to the house. My heart leaps into my throat when I hear Channa’s voice in the other room. I follow it into the kitchen. When I see her, my world lights up. She’s wearing a gray dress and long bulky black sweater with her boots. She’s barely showing any skin and it’s impossible to see her shape, but I’m turned on none the less. Her auburn hair is loose around her shoulders. I want to run my fingers through it, smell her shampoo, breathe that scent that’s purely and uniquely hers. I’ve never been around someone who makes everything better just by existing. It’s a feeling like no other, and one I don’t want to ever go away.
“Hungry?” she says, her beautiful smile beaming when she sees me. “We’re making dinner.”
I wish her friends could disappear into thin air, just for a moment, so I can run to her and kiss her lips and touch her body. God, she’s something else.
“Starving,” I say.
“Good. I’ve been marinating these steaks all day.” She hands me the plate of meat and I head out to the back porch. There’s a fire pit in the small back yard as well as a barbeque. I make a fire for the pit, using the wood stacked up by the garage door. Then I light the grill. Channa makes a potato salad and Deb cuts fruit. Apparently Lillian is not allowed to cook after poisoning a room full of people with undercooked chicken, so now she’s been designated the bartender. She might not be able to cook but she makes a mean Long Island Iced Tea.
Lillian comes out the back door, leaving the others to do all the work. She sets my cocktail on the table and sits by the fire on one of the patio chairs.
“Those smell wonderful,” she says.
I can see Channa through the kitchen window. She wrestles her hair up into a messy bun and continues her work. Deb says something that makes her laugh. The sound of it floats out the open window and sends a thrill through me. She lifts her head and catches my eye. I wink at her and watch her look down and blush. I have to have her tonight. I can’t wait any longer. I need to be with her again. I need to make the most of our time together before she leaves.
“Thanks,” I say to Lillian, almost forgetting she’d said anything.
“Handsome, a hard worker, and a good cook? Triple threat. You’re going to make a fine husband one day.”
I shrug off the compliment, thinking she’s just trying to make conversation to cut through the silence as we wait for the others to join us. But then she moves to one of the chairs beside me, away from the fire even though it’s freezing out. She’s not doing anything overtly flirty, but I’m sensing a change in her that I don’t like.
The rain continues to pour down faster than the ground can absorb it. Luckily the cover over the porch is a sturdy one and the ground is sloped enough to keep us from getting wet. Too bad it doesn’t leak enough to give her a reason to go inside. I don’t like where this is leading.
Lillian is wearing a short skirt and a sweater. I glance over just in time to see her hike her skirt up a little more when she adjusts her position.
Shit.
I’ve been too distracted by Channa to notice Lillian. Now that I think of it, she’s constantly been doi
ng little things like this to get my attention. I haven’t thought too much about it, but I’m fairly certain she’s trying to flirt with me.
I ignore the compliment and keep my head down. I don’t want to give her any ideas. There’s no way I would ever be attracted to someone like Lillian. She’s the kind of girl most men would go for, but not me. There are a million girls out there with blond hair, big personalities, and even bigger boobs, but all I see when I look at those girls is someone who didn’t get enough attention as a child—or maybe too much. With Channa, she is who she is. Take it or leave it. She’s not trying to impress anyone. She’s smart, well read, and just … special. I can’t explain it entirely. Some people have that unique something and she has it in spades.
Channa and Deb come out and put the food on the coffee table along with dishes and silverware, while Lillian hands out the drinks she made earlier. I let out a sigh of relief when Lillian pulls her skirt down to cover her legs.
We sit down to eat. Channa moves to sit next to me, but Lillian beats her too it. Channa looks shocked and confused, a little mad. Our eyes meet and I see the same discomfort in her expression that I feel in my own. We both seem to know Lillian’s intentions, but we’re both afraid to say anything. I don’t want to bring up the fact that Channa and I are … I’m not exactly sure what we are, but we’re something, and in that something there’s only room for us. I know she wants to keep our relationship from her friends, but if Lillian keeps up with this shit, I’m going to have to put a quick stop to it.
I’m hoping with as much as she’s drinking, Lillian will be quick to pass out. But the more she drinks, the more obvious her flirtations become until I’m downright uncomfortable.
