Authors: Karina Sharp,Carrie Ann Foster,Good Girl Graphics
Journey
Journey
Karina Sharp
ISBN-
0692397698
ISBN 13-
9780692397695
Copyright © 2014 by Karina Sharp.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
This book is dedicated to Just Jenny.
Even when your inner demons are throwing boulders at your bedroom window, may you find the strength to slay them with a pen whose sound you love and create many “Once upon a times.”
April
Jack
Stepping off of the plane, I feel a surge of excitement.
“She staying with you?” George asks me as we wait for our luggage.
“I’m not sure. We didn’t exactly talk about it.”
Journey is my annual spring break fling and has been for the past three years. The first year we spent together, it was truly a vacation fling. We met at a local bar called The Green Monkey on the first night of our respective trips. We connected and spent the remainder of the week together, much to the chagrin of our friends. At the end of the week, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. I knew little more than her first name, despite having some of the best sex of my life with her.
The next spring break, we each went to the same bar as we had the year prior, in my case, hoping the other would be there. We reconnected as if no time had passed and picked up right where we left off. We actually exchanged numbers that time, but beyond a few cordial texts, we didn’t communicate until just a few days before our following trip when I received a text from her that read,
See you again this year?
I replied,
Same place, same dance floor.
She responded simply with an emoticon of a smiley face.
Last year, we began to talk about deeper subjects, allowing the other to gain a little more insight into who we are. Journey talked a great deal about herself, her future plans, her family, and revealed other personal information. I, on the other hand, am far more careful about the personal information I willingly give. I was raised to believe that personal information is just that, and should remain so. I have nothing to hide or cover up, I’m just not an overt person who feels the need to be the center of every conversation, nor do I dish out all of my life’s details. Plus, the less others know about your professional dealings and family business, the less likely you are to be taken advantage of. Trusting others is difficult for me.
During our conversations, I was able to divert the attention back to Journey when we broached a topic upon which I did not wish to expound. Each time I did this, Journey would gladly chatter on and didn’t ask a great deal of questions. I nourished myself with every detail about her life and personality that she fed to me. Over the past year, we texted and even spoke on the phone a few times. Each time I communicated with Journey, my hunger for her grew. I’m more than ready to see, hear, and feel her again.
In a way that remains inexplicable to me, Journey often consumes my thoughts throughout the year. I tell myself that she is nothing more than a spring break “buddy,” but I think I’m only trying to convince myself that this is the case. And not fully succeeding. When I attempt to date other women, the thought of Journey seeps into my conscious, and I am no longer interested in anyone else. Why I’m so twisted by a woman I’ve met three times, I have no idea. I’ve told myself that I’m going to try to be more open with her, but old habits die hard. At least that’s what they say. Truly, I think I’m afraid that if I open up to her, I will ultimately be crushed since I don’t really know how to define our relationship.
“You know you two are going to see each other at The Green Monkey, then all that romantic movie music will play in your ears and you’ll only have eyes for one another.”
I shove George with my hand in jest. He replies with a good, hearty laugh.
My friends George, Marshall, and Hal always accompany me on this trip- an annual even that’s been taking place since we were in high school. By now, they are used to my absence on the golf course and don’t bother hassling me. This year, I have my own condo at a resort community so that Journey and I can spend time together uninterrupted.
I arrive early at our usual meeting spot, The Green Monkey by late afternoon. Just in case, I scan the room, looking for Journey, but she isn’t here. I grab a seat at the bar and hail my annual bartender, Rico. He spots me and immediately moves in front of me.
“Jack!” he greets me. “How are you, buddy?” Rico extends his hand toward me and we shake.
“Doing great. What have you been up to?”
“Oh, you know…same old.” Rico halts and lifts an eyebrow. “Meeting someone?”
“Yeah. You know the tradition.”
I have visited Cabo regularly since my youth. My parents own a house here, and we used to stay in it about three times a year. Rico has been working at The Green Monkey for as long as I can remember. He used to create non-alcoholic concoctions for me, and as I got older, began gradually slipping alcohol in so that I would feel good, but my parents wouldn’t notice. This place is slightly off of the beaten path, which is why it was a bit unreal that Journey and I wound up at the same bar at the same time two years in a row.
“What’ll it be?”
“I think I will just have a Captain and Coke for now, Rico.”
“You got it. How are the parents?” Rico asks with a smile as he pours my drink.
“They’re good. Just traveling and enjoying retirement...”
“Must be nice.”
“I know. Just put it on my tab, please.”
Sipping the bubbly liquid through the tiny black straw, my head turns to see the sun creating a dark red glow from the long, wavy locks atop Journey’s head. She stands in the large, open doorway of the building in a flowy sundress with large flowers all over it. A wide smile spreads across her face in recognition as she walks casually over to the stool next to me.
“Jack! Hey there!”
“Hey yourself. Long time, no see.” My arms embrace her before I have time to think about anything else, and my lungs breathe in her familiar scent of flowers, coconut, and Journey. Her body seems to be molded just for me, and as I feel it against me, I’m reminded how she manages to stay in my thoughts long after our week together.
She breaks our hug and sits in the seat to my left.
Rico smiles at her as well. “Do my eyes deceive me? Do I see the infamous Journey sitting at my bar?”
“Hi Rico,” she smiles at him. “I’ve missed you.”
“Same here,” he says. “How have you been?”
“Fabulous, Rico.” She spins around on the stool, now facing me. “I’m going to medical school at Berkeley!”
“Really?” I ask in excitement. “Congratulations!”
“Yup. AND we won nationals this year!”
“This is cause for lots of celebration!”
Rico follows my lead. “One round of shots and drinks, coming right up.”
Rico turns around to the back of the bar, and I admire Journey’s green eyes, sparkling in excitement.
At the University of Kentucky, she’s a member of their championship cheerleading squad, and her athleticism and flexible body certainly make our bedroom romps for more interesting. She is small and petite, but not delicate.
I take a moment to allow my eyes to scan her body, lingering on the exposed, milky skin of her shoulders that I know will bronze more as she spends time in the Caribbean sun. Excitement heats and moves up from my core as I think about getting back to the condo and feeling her body against mine.
“Berkeley...so, California, huh?” I ask, still smiling from ear to ear.
“Yeah. It’s the school I wanted, and it’s on the coast, so I’m pretty happy about it.”
“I’m really proud of you, Journey. That’s awesome news.”
I had no doubt she would get into the medical school of her choice. She’s undoubtedly extremely intelligent and she has determination to make it happen
Red liquid splashes out of three shot glasses as Rico sits them down on the bar. Following those, two glass tumblers filled with a kelly green liquid already beading with condensation are placed beside them. “On the house,” Rico declares.
The dark red, loose curls that cover her shoulders bounce as Journey laughs.
We all smile, moving our eyes between the three of us, and pick up our shot glasses.
“To Journey,” Rico says.
Blush spreads lightly on the apples of Journey’s cheeks as she looks to me gratefully.
“To Journey,” I repeat.
*****
Journey
Sweet, chilled liquor meets the back of my tongue and washes down my throat. I slam my shot glass on the wooden bar with a sense of accomplishment. Jack and Rico’s glasses reconnect with the surface in quick succession.
“Still a pro,” Rico smiles as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You didn’t doubt my abilities, did you? I know it’s been a year, but I’m not a slacker.”
“Nope. I’ve never once doubted you
or
your abilities.” Rico’s eyes blink over at Jack, then back to me. “I’m going to go see if anyone else needs anything. I’ll come back and check on you guys later.”
“Thanks, Rico.”
Each year I see him, Jack seems more handsome than the last. He’s at least six feet tall and has the clean and polished look of a man from an upscale upbringing with dark, classic, Mediterranean features. His hair is almost black in a fairly short cut that frames his chiseled face. Thick, dark eyebrows combined with his olive skin make his chestnut eyes, which are set back in a brooding way, align with a perfectly proportioned nose and chin to make a very masculine profile.
He hasn’t confirmed it, but it’s pretty obvious that he was both raised in high society and continues to maintain a wealthy lifestyle. His money doesn’t impress me, though. I’ve lived a privileged life. Granted, we were not movie star or reality show starlet rich. We were more like yacht club, get-invited-to-big-parties-hosted-by-celebrities rich. My parents sent me to the finest private schools, I dated the most popular boys, and was part of the most elite cheerleading squads. Then, there were the parties- and I could party. I partied all day, all night, and into the mornings: on land, sand, and sometimes even the sea- on a spectacular yacht, of course.
I’m still a fairly regular attendee of the party circuit. Even through the partying, I still manage to keep up with my studies, which come rather easily to me, and my commitment to the cheer squad. I never have to worry much about paying my bills or whether or not I will get a great internship. My father is a well-known architect who has connections everywhere, and I mean everywhere. I never disappoint the family name because I do pull my weight, but let’s just say that when you grow up in Greenwich, Connecticut with a famous architect father and an equally famous model-turned-activist mother, people tend to bend over backward to give you what you want.
Jack is someone who knows nothing about me and my family name or pedigree. When we talk, there aren’t conversations about the next soiree or who is dating whom. We simply talk about us as human beings, and it’s refreshing. We both enjoy indie music and the arts. We’re both fluent in Spanish and love to travel. When I texted him to see if he would be here this year, I was thrilled when he responded affirmatively. I literally jumped for joy, causing my roommate and best sorority sister Lexie to check and see if I was okay.
Jack’s lips meet the straw of his green drink creating a tingling response in me as I remember how they feel on mine. For a man I consider to be just a fling, he drives me wilder than he truly should.
“How does it taste?” I ask Jack.
“Hmmm?” He asks as we come back down from the clouds and back to the present. “The drink? Good. Not the best thing I’ve ever tasted, but it has a good flavor.” Jack winks at me. “Taste it.”
“It’s very green,” I observe just before I take a big swig. “Mmm… You were right. It’s is quite delightful.”
“As are you,” he says, eyeing me mischievously. My legs feel wobbly in response. “Where are you staying while you’re here?”
“We have our regular hotel on the beach.” I allow my eyes to travel down his torso, then say, “But, if you play your cards right, I’ll be staying with you.” I shrug.
A spark ignites in Jack’s eyes. “I do love card games.”
“I bet you do,” I giggle.
I gaze over Jack for another moment. He’s everything I remember- handsome, tall, built, and ever so polite and formal. He’s fantastic to feast your eyes upon, and he’s even more fantastic in bed. Throughout the year, I’ve found myself lost in thought, picturing his body intertwined with mine and remembering our shared pleasure. He affects my emotions in a way that is almost indescribable. It’s as if I am attracted to him in ways beyond our physical encounters and very casual friendship.
He’s such a change of pace for me. I’m used to guys who play hard and party even harder, but rarely take the time to ask about me or simply give me their undivided attention. Jack listens to me intently, and he’s romantic and playful. We come up with games that are sometimes sexy and other times quite benign. With him, I can let go and forget about the pressures of the person everyone else wants me to be. He’s bold, but tasteful, commanding, but considerate.
