Authors: Darien Cox
“Yeah. Really big. Like you’re...astonished.”
“I am astonished,” I said. “You just made me chase you down the beach and then climb a sand dune after stealing my phone. Who does that?”
“Look at the view,” he said.
Sighing, I forced myself to gaze out at the ocean. Okay, so it was a nice view from up here. I could see the lights of the resort in the distance, and other structures along the curve of land beyond. The water glistened under a streak of moonlight, and a few boat lights blinked in the vast darkness. Oddly, the sea breeze felt warmer up here than it had down on the sand, soft and caressing. Had I not been with a crazy drunk phone thief who was most likely straight, it all would have been unbearably romantic.
And he
was
most likely straight, I admonished myself. There was no way I’d stumbled upon—almost
literally
stumbled upon—an infuriatingly attractive gay man on an empty beach at night. My life didn’t work that way. The universe never gave me gifts. Not like that. And even if it had, this guy was out of his mind, far too wild for me.
“So? Nice, isn’t it?”
The stranger’s words dragged me out of my thoughts, and I turned my head and looked into his pretty eyes. “The view is great. Now can I have my phone back?”
“Just one more thing, then you can have it.”
Heat flushed my cheeks, anger and frustration battling each other. My teeth clenched. “You
said
if I climbed up here you’d give it
back
.” I rolled my eyes and looked skyward. “I’m trying to reason with a drunk.”
He held a hand up, a calming gesture, like
I
was the one being out of control. “And I will give it back. You just have to give me a kiss first.”
The breath left my lungs as though I’d been punched in the gut. My voice came out a whisper. “
What?
”
White teeth shone in the darkness as he grinned. “One kiss. Then you can have your phone.”
“I...I’m not
kissing
you!”
He shrugged a bare shoulder. “Why not?”
It was simple, straightforward question, but for some reason it scrambled my brain.
Why not?
“Because...because I...” I stammered. “I don’t want to!” Even as I said it, my gaze dropped to his heart-shaped lips. I quickly turned my head and focused on the water. “Just give me my phone.”
“Ah,” he said. “So you
are
gay.”
My head whipped around. “Why would you draw that conclusion from me saying
I don’t want to?
”
“
Because
...” He shuffled closer to me, his damp thigh pressing against mine. “A straight man would have punched me by now.”
It was suddenly hard to breathe. “You’re nuts.”
His grin disappeared, eyes serious suddenly. “I know,” he whispered. “Believe me, I know.” Then his hand was on the side of my face, cool fingers stroking my skin.
When his face eased closer, I didn’t move. Didn’t pull back. Just sat there, paralyzed. When his lips found mine, I exhaled. His hand gripped the back of my head, and then he was kissing me.
Oh God, I remember this
.
It had been a long time, and the logic centers of my brain shut down, overpowered by animal instincts that wanted only to
feel
, oblivious to the strangeness of circumstances.
My heart was a jackhammer. When his tongue probed, I opened my mouth. He tasted minty...with a hint of alcohol.
Peppermint Schnapps?
Then the kiss deepened and became almost savage: salty and sweet, human, sexy, soft tongue licking mine, lips gliding. A whiff of faded cologne.
Dizzy. At some point my hand found his shoulder and palmed his cool skin, gripping, pulling him closer. The kiss grew so fevered that his teeth nicked my lip, tongue so deep, breath in my mouth. And then suddenly, it was over.
I gasped at the loss of contact as he pulled back. I opened my eyes. The stranger brushed a knuckle across my cheek, then handed me my phone. “Here you go.”
I held my phone, mouth agape as I watched him stand. “Wait...what....where are you going?”
He smiled down at me. “Later.”
Shuffling down the dune, his bare feet sprayed sand as he skidded on his ass. When he reached bottom he looked up, offered me a salute, then sprinted off down the beach.
I stood, wobbling on top of the sand dune, nearly losing my balance. “Wait!” I called, but he didn’t stop running. “Who
are
you?” I shouted.
I watched as his figure grew smaller, fading into the distance.
“Who are you?”
But whoever he was...he was gone.
Chapter Two
The Man with the Golden Nun
I woke to the glare of sunlight and an earthquake shaking my mattress. Rubbing my eyes, I focused on the culprit. Townsend’s girlfriend, Pippa, was jumping on my bed, her waist-length reddish hair bouncing around her tiny frame. “Stop that,” I croaked. “When did you get here?”
Plopping down on her butt, she squeezed my chin. “Early this morning. You slept late, everyone else is already up! Hungover?”
“Not really.” I sat up, squinting at the sun coming through the windows. “Just a late night.”
“Heard your gay bar excursion was a bust.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Too bad. Figured you’d at least get to kiss someone.”
I groaned and shook my head as the prior night’s memories body-slammed me. The stranger on the beach. Holy shit. That fucking guy. “No kiss,” I lied. “Just a bad stripper with a zit on his ass.”
Pippa smiled at me, tucking her legs into lotus position. Pippa was short and extremely petite, a cute little imp of a woman. My mind was always conjuring images of how the hell she and Townsend had sex, since he was so much bigger than she was. I forced the vision from my mind. People said that Pippa and I looked alike, that she could be my little sister. She had wide blue eyes and similar hair color, but I didn’t think we looked that much alike. Plus Townsend didn’t seem to like when people made the comparison. I knew Townsend was comfortable with his own sexuality, and mine, but the suggestion that he was sleeping with someone who looked like me was probably creepy for him.
“Where is everybody else?” I asked.
“Kamal has been whining all morning that he wants to hit the antique store, but Townsend and I are going deep sea fishing. Laurie said she’d go antiquing with Kamal, but she wanted a Bloody Mary first, so the two of them went down to the pool bar. You want to go fishing with us?”
I thought about being on the ocean all day in the sun with buckets of slimy bait and a rocking boat. I tended to get seasick, so decided to decline, for my benefit as well as theirs. “I think I’ll pass. But you guys have fun.”
“Really? What are you gonna do? Go shopping with the other
girls?
”
“Funny. I don’t know. I need a shower. And that Bloody Mary sounds good.”
Pippa hopped off the bed. “Suit yourself. But don’t make dinner plans, I intend to return victorious with a giant cod tonight.”
By the time I’d showered and dressed, the bungalow was empty. I spent some time on the patio, eating a muffin and staring at the scrubby floral landscaping and the sea beyond, coffee and fresh morning air bringing me fully awake.
Finally taking the path that led from the bungalows down to the main resort, I glanced out at the sand dunes, trying not to think about the intriguing, shirtless man who’d kissed me last night. And pondering my less than dignified reaction to said kiss. Damn, was I easy, desperate, or both? I’d been on an extended dry spell since moving to Boston nine months ago, but even that didn’t excuse my complete lack of restraint. Just one kiss, a press of flesh from a wet, bedraggled drunk on a dark beach, and I’d been instantly on board. What if he hadn’t stopped? Would I have let him take me, right there on the dune? Woken this morning plagued with self-loathing and sand wedged in the crack of my ass? Classy.
At least the likelihood of me seeing the guy again was slim, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to share the experience with my friends. Especially after my scoffing contempt for the cheesy strip club, like I was so above it all. So I determined to put it out of my mind.
The main pool area was crowded, many already drinking though it was not yet noon. People culminated around the thatched roof bars on either end, and at the tables and chairs that surrounded the glistening blue water, some swimming, some sunbathing on the loungers. In anticipation of the independence day festivities set for the coming weekend, glittery red, white, and blue flags adorned the drinks coming from the bar, decorative banners hung everywhere, and even the poolside cocktail tables donned flag colored tablecloths and elaborate fireworks themed center pieces. It looked like America had been drinking too much at the bar and then vomited all over the pool area.
I scanned the crowd for my friends, but couldn’t find them. Perhaps I’d taken too long to get myself together, and this time they had in fact gone off without me.
I thought I heard someone call my name. Slipping on my sunglasses, I searched the crowd, but saw only strangers, a family with young children splashing in the pool, a kissing couple clinking glasses as they leaned on the deck bannister.
“Olsen!”
That was definitely Laurie’s voice. But I still couldn’t find her in the crowd. Knowing my friends could see me looking dumbly around for them escalated my efforts to find them, and my head swiveled in all directions.
Time passes very slowly when you’re embarrassed.
I heard my name called again, and looked in that direction, spotting a group of middle-aged women in tennis outfits drinking wine at one of the tables and shouting over each other. I shifted my focus beyond them but saw only a young guy with a hipster beard sitting alone and scribbling into a notebook.
Then my eyes drifted a few feet to the left, drawn by Laurie waving her arm over her head.
I headed over. She and Kamal had commandeered a couple of seats among the row of loungers. Laurie wore shorts and a bikini top, brown hair tied into a ponytail. She held a Bloody Mary, the giant celery stick sporting a missing bite. Kamal was in a Hawaiian shirt so loud I couldn’t believe I hadn’t spotted them sooner.
“Hey.” The loungers were all occupied, so I dragged a rogue patio chair over and sat facing the two of them. “You guys are starting early,” I said, indicating the drink in Laurie’s hand.
“Just her,” Kamal said. “Someone has to be sober enough to drive.”
“I saw Pippa. You guys going antiquing?”
“I
want
to,” Kamal said, glancing at Laurie. “But it appears I’ll be going alone.”
“Come on,” Laurie said. “I promise we’ll go in a little while. And Beck will come too,” she called loudly over her left shoulder. “He likes hunting for old shit when he’s not
hungover
.”
“Shut up,” came the muffled words of a man in beige shorts and a white tee shirt lying flat on the next lounger down. A baseball cap covered his face. He removed the hat from his face and sat up. “You’re all too fucking
loud
.”
I nearly shit a doghouse. The man wore dark aviator sunglasses, but I was sure I was looking at the drunken stranger from the beach last night.
What the fuck is
he
doing here?
As he fell back down onto his lounger, resting an arm across his forehead, I had a moment of panic.
Did I bring this fucker home last night and not remember?
But that was impossible. That I definitely would have remembered.
“Beck, this is my friend Olsen,” Laurie said.
Remaining prostrate, the man on the lounger lifted his arm in a weak wave, but didn’t look my way.
“Beck is my brother,” Laurie said. “And he’s an asshole.”
“
Enough
, Laurie.” He sat up and threw his baseball cap at her. “Jesus Christ.”
Yep. I knew that voice. And those lips. Son of a bitch.
He’s Laurie’s brother
.
I shifted nervously in my chair, unsure if he hadn’t recognized me or just hadn’t really looked at me yet. I had sunglasses on too, but come on. How many people looked like me? I decided to bite the bullet and address him, get it over with, because the anxiety of not knowing was making me sweat more than the hot sun.
“Nice to...meet you, Beck,” I said.
He glanced my way, forehead creasing in a frown. “Same here.” His gaze shifted then to the crowd of tennis ladies around the nearby table when their argument suddenly increased in volume. “Hey!” he shouted.
Laurie’s eyes widened. “Beck!” she whispered. “Don’t.”
The women’s chatter ceased, and they all looked Beck’s way.
“Yeah, I’m talking to you,” he said. “Real Fishwives of Cape Cod. Can you keep it down please? Some of us are trying to
relax
, here.”
The women gave him a group death stare, then returned to their conversation, albeit more quietly.
“Oh my God.” Laurie buried her face in her hands for a moment, then looked at her brother, who gave her that giant grin I’d experienced last night. “You’re so embarrassing! You can’t start yelling at people just because
you’re
hungover. It’s not their fault you can’t handle your liquor.”
Beck shrugged. “What? I was polite about it. And what the hell are
you
looking at?” he snapped at the hipster with the notebook, whose focus was now on Beck. “Turn around, Dostoyevsky, nothing to see here.”
The kid flipped Beck the bird, then went back to his scribbling.
Beck cackled, and slapped Laurie playfully on the thigh.
“Not funny,” she said through a smirk. “Be normal, please?”
“I don’t feel well,” he whined, and stretched back on the lounger, covering his face with his arm.
Laurie turned to me. “My brother got drunk last night.”
I gave her a tight smile. “You don’t say.”
“I still think you should try a Bloody Mary,” Kamal said to Beck, who simply groaned and waved him off.
Laurie nodded at me. “Yeah. Isn’t he a treat today? I haven’t seen him in months and he does this. He’s a total asswipe.”
Her words were harsh but her expression soft. Maybe softer than I’d ever seen on Laurie. One thing was certain. She loved her brother, and was happy he was here, regardless of his hindered state.