Inner Core: (Stark, #2) (22 page)

Though it’s half past ten, I decide I want to interact with society again and dial Ian’s room. After a few persistent tries I call his cell. When my call goes directly to voicemail I try hard not to think about why he's not in his room or why he wouldn’t answer. I finally give up, and burrow deeper under the covers, the bed is too comfy to leave. I end the day by watching reruns of Sex and the City in Dhivehi, the local language. I nearly choke on my water when I hear that Samantha’s character is dubbed by a man.

Chapter 24: D for Disaster Waiting to Happen

Before leaving the room for breakfast I try to call Ian again at his room phone and his cell phone. I get the same futile result as the night before, there’s nothing I can do but jump to some mega-disturbing conclusions.

Please let me be wrong. Please let me be wrong. For the sake of not having to find a new job please let me be wrong,
I chant to myself while I walk the flower-lined path to the crowded restaurant, enjoying the resort’s beautiful views. I glance around for either Ian or Josh and, as expected, fail to find them. I take a deep, troubled breath.

Halfway through my fluffy pancake and delectable plate of exotic fruits, I get a text message.

Ian: Will meet you @ the shoot, running a teensy weensy bit late.

Please tell me you fell asleep, BY YOURSELF!

Ian: Don’t shout!

Please let them be discreet. Please let this not turn into the mother of all fiascos.

All through our busy day Ian keeps avoiding eye contact with me, which is a first, ever. Evidently, validating my assumption. I can’t wait to get him by himself; he has a lot of explaining to do.
And he better have one hell of an excuse.

Somehow, between wrapping up the shoot and restoring the location to the way it was before we got there, even under my scrutinizing radar, Ian and Josh manage to disappear.

I spend a happy hour with the rest of the crew, sans Ian and Josh, by the pool, that turns into three hours. Back in my room I lie down on my bed and catch up with my emails, occasionally distracted by short escapes into a few different social networks. It's around eleven p.m. when a determined knock on my door disconnects me from my browsing.

Ian’s unapologetic face greets me as I open the door; I narrow my gaze at him, highly annoyed by his indifference, more like highly annoyed and about to commit a violent crime. And just before I'm about to give him the lecture of the century he starts a word-marathon of his own that leaves me dumbfounded and silent.

“I had a facial, ate a yogurt, worked out, sauna-ed, worked out again, got a pedi and went to that uber-expensive store in the lobby to try on those nasty T-shirts they have there for no less than fifty bucks each, and even with all these calorie-burning, calming activities, I couldn’t get Joshua out of my fucking mind.”

Okay, no bitching, Hales. This is a confession that needs to be addressed patiently for the sake of Mr. Confused, who's never ever had a crush on anyone before
. I was so worked up and excited to have it all out, but now it just seems wrong.

“You're trying to say you have a major crush, Ian?” And I immediately soften at Ian’s confused expression. He nods his head with a frown. His pout would put a five-year-old to shame.

“He’s not even my type,” he whines. “This is so dark.”

I am not able to hold my fleeting snicker.

“Dark.” No, we're not being extreme here…

“Congratufuckinglations. Yay, me! I have a crush, and on a normal human being!” He puts on a miserable face that almost sends me into hysterics.

“If you could just drop the bitterness it would seem like a positive thing. Well, at least to us sane people.” I cock an eyebrow.

“Really, I am so out of my element here, gorgeous. This is goddamn frustrating. Like I said, DARK.”

“What do you mean, Ian?” I ask in disbelief, starting to grasp that he's not joking. His diva in distress, anguish vibes clearly evident. “He deserves someone better than me. Someone who doesn’t need to be wasted to admit he kind of likes him.” He sighs, downcast.

I can barely believe what I'm hearing. Where is this insecurity coming from? This has to be Ian’s defense mechanism talking. He doesn’t think he can handle a relationship, and it clearly shows that something has changed. I’ve never seen him so torn about a new guy. It seems as if he really wants to try. It’s clear from his troubled stare. This is so totally the opposite of how I imagined our talk would go. In less than a sentence he made me forget how mad I was.

Instead of decapitating his handsome head, I do my best to comfort him.

“No one can even measure up to you. You are beautiful and kind and protective and smart. And you have the biggest heart. Anyone who gets to date you will be the luckiest person I know.”

“Too bad I met him now. Would have been better in, oh, let’s say a few years, when I grow up.”

“You are a big boy
now
, so let’s drop this 'maturity' crap.” I dismiss his lame attempt.

“You know I'm screwed up.”

My heart breaks at the self-doubt radiating from his eyes.
How can someone so amazing think so little about themselves?
From time to time even I tend to forget Ian’s fragility, perhaps due to the huge self-confidence he musters on a daily basis. But it is there, cushioned and deeply etched inside him, and I know just how unworthy of happiness he thinks he is, which is something to thank his lovely parents for.

“Can you name one person we know who isn’t screwed up in one way or another? Present company included,” I say. His lips curve up a bit.

“So you're concerned. So what? Who isn’t concerned when it comes to a new relationship? That’s where all the excitement and the butterflies come from.”

He listens while fetching a small bottle full of auburn liquid out of the mini bar. Kicking shut the door, he takes a swig and nods. “And if by any chance this is reassuring, I can tell you that even after the milestones Daniel and I have passed, I still have concerns about our relationship.”

He thinks for a moment while studying the label of the bottle in his hand, then takes another sip that empties the small container. He turns to look directly at me, his voice cheerless. “Hales, if I screw this up—and the probability of that is so fucking high—the aftermath could also affect you.”

“I’m well aware of that.” I mirror his deep stare. “Ian, this is the first time since I can remember that you even considered giving someone a chance. Hell, that you even gave a damn about your potential partner. Seriously, I can’t even remember one time that you treated a crush like something more than a warm body. So if you're thinking of giving this one a chance, I’ll deal with the consequences.”

“Hales, are you really giving your blessing to this disaster waiting to happen?” He scans me doubtfully, cautious.

I nod and smile, trying to mask my gigantic concern.

“Even though we both know too well how quickly I can turn this one into the mother of all catastrophes?” he stresses.

I hold my façade and nod again.

“Mmm hmm.”

“You are by far the best sister anyone could have.” He embraces me to just a squeeze short of suffocation.

“So, gorgeous… I’m gonna leave now… umm, there’s somewhere else I gotta be.” He sends me one of his melt-your-heart-in-a-microsecond grins and I nod, gesturing him out the door.

“Love you to Jupiter via the moon and back,” he calls before closing the door after him.

I stare at the door and murmur, “Please let the universe change his habits. Let this one work.”

I spend the next hour or so chatting with Tasha, filling her in on all the glorious views we have in this magical place and on Ian’s new “mature adventure” only to cringe when she recounts the amazing time she has had recently with Brad.

And that's another coupling I could really live being ignorant of…

Chapter 25: Birthday Festivities

The last day of the shoot feels more like the last couple days of school before spring break. Everyone's already feeling festive by breakfast time. Best of all, the nicest surprise awaits me as I step into the restaurant for my last breakfast in this South Pacific paradise.

“Happy birthday, Hayley.” The entire group, including Kyle, who's tried to keep his distance so far, raise their glasses of Mimosa my way. I flash them a wide, genuinely happy smile and bow.

“Thank you, guys.”

Josh, leaving Ian’s side, rushes my way with a matching glass. “Happy birthday, Hayley. Can I?” He tilts his head toward mine, and when I beam at him, he kisses my cheek. As I take a seat next to Ian, who almost drowns my face with moist smooches, Theo the makeup artist asks me how old I am.

“Twenty-six.” I send her an easy smile.

“Are you even legal to drink?” asks Kyle, who is over forty. He makes a big deal out of being annoyed, but winks at me.

“Worse than that, I think I’ve reached the age when I should start using anti-wrinkle creams,” I say and twist my mouth. Everyone laughs and Ian whispers in my ear, “I’m seriously shocked you haven’t started already.” He shakes his head, and I nudge him at the waist only to be covered by some more of his soggy kisses.

“Gorgeous, you keep up with these, I’ll turn all pruny.”

Of course that just encourages him to plant more on me, now all over my face.

“So, Hayley, what do wish for your birthday?” asks Donna, a lovely older woman who is everyone’s unofficial mother at work.

“That would be telling,” I answer with a radiant, enigmatic smile.

“To be plowing her wish right about now…” Ian murmurs under his breath.

“Behave, we're in public,” I whisper.

~~~

The day passes like a frat party. Our let-loose atmosphere infects everyone; we do hardly anything but sit around, sunbathe and bond. Alone in my room and in need of a break, I get somewhat down when I realize that Daniel hasn’t called or texted me today, and it’s almost late afternoon. A knock on my door makes me giddy; perhaps I'll be granted a wish that’s been twirling deep, deep in my heart throughout the day. But instead, I open the door to find the newly hooked-up couple at my doorstep.

“So,” Ian declares a tad too loudly.

Been playing with alcohol, peaches?

“Her royal highness, aka gorgeous, is invited to her own dreamy birthday celebration.”

I radiate a grin at them both.

“Bottom line, bring your bottom line to the lobby at 20 hours sharp! Oh, and wear something comfy.”

“Yes sir,” I salute, and they wobble away, god knows where.
Better not think or imagine the where and especially not the what for…

With the next knock my nerves shoot up in anticipation. I’m overthrown by the gigantic bouquet of white roses and candy that greets me when I open the door. A head pops up behind the giant arrangement, squealing in a thick accent, “A delivery for Miss Grace.”

“Thanks.” I take the heavy bouquet from the cute, miniature lady behind the enormous arrangement, clad in the hotel’s uniform and the sweetest smile. Once I remove all the edible parts I set the flowers in a bucket; a simple vase just wouldn’t do the job. I first study the patterned purple envelope, trying to guess who this mother of all bouquets is from. With a couple of prospects in mind I check out the card. When I see the first line, a huge smile settles instantly on my face.

My dearest soul mate—missy,

No matter where in the planet you escape to, you are deep in my heart and thoughts, especially on this day on which you’ve graced the mighty universe, with… you.

I wish you everything you could dream of… and so much more.

I know it’s a bummer to reach this age, but as Abe Lincoln once said:

“And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.”

So missy,

To living it up just like we know how.

Adore you so much it’s unreal,

Tash

The combination of Tasha’s card, my thoughts of Daniel, and the lack of any signal from him slowly brings down my mood. Due to the time difference, I text Tasha a thank-you-adore-you-back message rather than calling her, and take a quick shower.

I dress, not giving myself enough time to dwell on any more thoughts that might sink my birthday-spirit. On top of my black tank top I don a dark grey trench sweater, jeans and flip-flops and head to the assigned location for my promised “Dreamy Celebration.” A frisson in my back pocket flings my heart to pace a tad faster. It's a single buzz, a message.

Daniel: Sorry Hales, I’ll make it up to you.

That’s it? Not even a short call?
Disappointment doesn’t even come close to what falls over me as I read the laconic text. I take a long, deep breath to hold back what’s fighting to surface, and make my way down to meet the guys.
I will not let this ruin my evening
. Though… it already has, to a degree.

Ian, grinning from ear to ear, waits for me in the lobby, all freshened up in jeans and a comfy white hoodie that enhances the tan he developed on the beach. Seeing him, as ever, make everything better.

“Hello birthday girl.” He hugs me tight and I echo with a warm embrace. “Ready?”

I nod, raising my brows questioningly. He grins and turns me around, so I'm standing with my back to him. Then he puts his hands over my eyes and starts walking me.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Mmm hmm. Just shut up and follow.” His snicker of a reply is filled with mirth.

“Keep em’ closed,” Ian says, playfully scolding. Nonetheless, skeptical that I'll comply, he keeps steering me somewhere with his hands still glued to my eyes. I giggle and try to figure out my surroundings by listening to background noises and taking in the smells. The humid, salty breeze helps me gather that we are outside and somewhere near the ocean. After a few long moments of being led in complete darkness Ian finally stops me, while announcing, “Happy birthday gorgeous. Tada!” A deep stomach laugh rolls out of me at the vision I see before me. At the rim of the deck, where it unites with the white, silky sand, Josh is raising a tall crystal flute for me. I take it with a grin and continue giggling at the ramshackle, disposable BBQ that sports some sorry excuses for flames. The flimsy grill is surrounded by disposable white plates with assorted finger food, from cut veggies to pickles, bread, colorful candy and Cheetos.