Wet: Part 2 (30 page)

“It’s better to wait.”

“I’m done waiting!” She exhaled a loud, angry breath.

“You made yourself a promise to wait. I made myself a promise to get you off this island—” He made a face. “—the same way you came.” If he really meant it, she’d be gone already, but instead, he’d kept her there at every turn, and she’d already changed because of him. She shouldn’t be asking this of him. She would never ask if not for his bad influence.

“Yeeaah. I made that promise before I knew you were going to come along and turn my world upside down. If I’d known, I would have marked this day on my calendar.”

She made him smile. He liked the sound of it, but he didn’t think he should.

“I wasn’t ready last time. You were right,
then
, but it’s different now. I haven’t freaked out on you for quite a while. I absolutely, positively, do not freak out when you touch me,
now
.” She turned her body to face him. “I’m ready. I’m really ready. I want this. Paul, I
wawnt
you!”

“Please, don’t say that.” He rolled onto his back again. “Rhees. This is hard for me, but the truth is, I don’t want you to give up . . . not for me. You’ve been waiting for Mr. Right—I’m everything wrong.”

She looked like a rock, no, a boulder, just dropped into the pit of her stomach. Or was it her heart? This conversation continued to get worse and worse, and he felt terrible. 

“I like how innocent you are. I could never forgive myself if I selfishly robbed you of one of the things that make you so special.”

She turned away again, huffing and puffing out little humorless laughs. “At home, all the boys joke about girls who are
special
. It means they think a girl’s nice but
no one
really wants to . . .” She didn’t finish.

“Part of me still holds out on the hope that you’ll go back to Utah and meet a nice boy—someone more like you, someone good and innocent, someone who
deserves
you. That someone isn’t me. I’m too selfish and self-centered. It would be greed and lust, and I want more for you. I want you to have your happily ever after, the way you’ve always hoped it would be.”

Saying the words was hard, believing them another thing entirely. The thought of her with anyone else drove him insane.

“You, apparently, know nothing about what I want. I’ve told you how I feel about Utah. There’s nothing there for me, and those
nice
boys don’t want me. They never have, never will. I never want to go back!”

“You’ll come to your senses and realize I’m right.”

“Paul!” She crawled back to be close again and snuggled up to him, wrapping an arm and leg around him, desperately claiming him, and he responded by resting his arms lightly around her waist. She looked into his eyes, pleading.

“Don’t say things like that, please.” She fought back tears. She didn’t want to cry. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way, and I can live with that, but I thought you wanted me. I’ll take whatever you can give. You give me more than you realize. I want to be with you, be close to you. I want to be intimate with you. Paul . . . I
love
you!” 

“Jesus!” Again, Paul jumped up and away from her so fast it left her dazed. He stood staring at her in utter shock. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong with me. I didn’t mean to feel this way, it just happened. I can’t help it. I love you.”

“No!” He cursed and started knocking his forehead against the palms of his hands. “No! No, you don’t—you can’t!”

“I do.” She choked back tears. His reaction hurt. “I love you.” She sat up straighter. “It isn’t enough for me to say it. I want to show you. That makes you the perfect man—you said yourself you were the perfect man for the job. I want you.”

“I didn’t give a fuck about you then,” he growled. “All I wanted was to get inside your panties.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You’d better believe that,” he snorted incredulously. “That is exactly the kind of man I was.”

“Was!” she yelled back, jumping up. She tried to get close to him. She wanted to calm him, convince him, but he kept moving away from her. She finally stopped chasing him and folded her arms, something she did when she began to feel the need to get away.

“
Was
, is the word of the day. I don’t believe you are as bad as you always think you are.” She spoke calmly and more quietly than before.

“Oh my God!” He ran both hands through his hair and then threw them in the air, glaring at her accusingly. His tone escalated. “You are so gullible! Just what do you think that was . . . the night at the hotel?”

“Us! Having feelings for each other.” She moved back to the blanket and sat down. She pulled her legs to her chest. Phase two of her retreat.

“Look how well that turned out!” he said recklessly.

“You said you’d stopped pretending. You said you love me.”

“I never said that!” He staggered, taken aback, but the look on his face showed he wasn’t completely convinced he hadn’t.

“It was right after you said you weren’t pretending anymore. Before I got in the van to go shopping, you said, ‘Love you’, as though you said it every day of the week.” She watched him squirm, fidgeting as though he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and made a few agonized faces.

“I thought we’d moved forward.” She closed her eyes. “You don’t want me either. I get it. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

Paul knew Rhees well enough to recognize the signs, but he desperately needed to think of a way to turn things back, to save her from him. He couldn’t do that
and
take away the pain he’d caused her, continued to cause her.

“You can’t love me. Rhees. Don’t waste yourself on me, I’m not worth it—I’m not worthy of you.”

“Stop it. Just stop it!” she screamed. “You’re only saying that because it’s easier than admitting what the fuck is really going on here.” She closed her eyes and puckered her mouth. Her lips trembled. She’d reached her limit, and she attacked. It didn’t happen often, but he’d learned that when she did—she let loose and inserted more swear words than even Paul could have.

“Apparently, you’ll sleep with anything that has a God-damned vagina . . . except me. Shit! Maybe I
should
go find Taylor.”

“Rhees, don’t.”

“He’s not as picky as you are. He said if I really wanted you, I should fuck him first. He said you
like
it that way—I think he’s wrong. You still wouldn’t want me, but shit! Actually—” She laughed eerily and acted like she’d just come up with a brilliant idea. “Mario wanted to fuck me too. Maybe he still does! Do you think the prison has a conjugal visiting program?”

“Just stop it! You’re being . . .
redonkulous
.”

“Pfft! The pot calling the kettle black,” she yelled. She finally looked out over the water, trying to catch her breath.

He took a deep breath and let it out, wretchedly. He hung his head and both stood quietly for a minute.

“Rhees . . . look at me.” He sounded hoarse and cleared his throat.

“Why, so you can glamour me?” She laughed jadedly, and looked everywhere except at him. “So you can use your magical eyes to make all this go away—make me forget how I feel about you so that I’ll stop complicating—fucking up your life?”

She finally mustered the courage to look at him straight on. His eyes shined, but not with their usual sparkle. Sadness.

“Do it! Glamour me—I want to forget.”

“Rhees . . . I told you I have a dark past.” He glanced down at the ground. “You deserve so much better.”

She folded her arms again and braced herself for the bad news she knew was coming. He finally looked back up at her.

“I do love you.” The desolate look in his red-rimmed eyes deepened as the words spewed out like a death sentence. “I love you. I shouldn’t—I’ve been denying it because it’s so wrong, but—” His eyes were wet, the tears pooled, ready to overflow, but they didn’t. “I love you too much to defile you.”

She gasped for air as she staggered away from him. She stopped at the edge of the water and looked out across the channel. He watched the strain on her face grow heavier and heavier as she tried too hard not to cry. She zoned out and didn’t hear anything he said after that, until she reached down for her gear and headed back toward the water. She waded in until the water lapped at her waist. She put her mask on and slipped into her fins.

“Rhees,” he called, wading in after her. He gently caressed her arm. “What are you doing? Remember what I said about the current?”

“I need time to think,” she snapped, yanking her arm away from him. She put her face in the water and started kicking. She headed south, sticking to the shoreline as he watched her, warily.

“Please don’t run from me. You always run,” he called after her. She didn’t stop. He threw his hands up behind his head and paced a little, disgusted with himself, worried about her. He realized how much better off she’d be if she would’ve run from him long ago, but he’d let his selfishness get in the way. He always did.

His jaw set tight and his mouth twitched, frantic to think of something to say to make her come back—make it all better. She swam farther and farther away from him, but she hugged the shoreline, so he sat down and let her have the time she’d asked for.

He leaned back on his hands and let the sun absorb into his soul while he waited for her to come back, trying to figure out what he could say to her when she did. When he finally opened his eyes again, he looked to check on her. She wasn’t near where she’d been the last time he saw her.   

“Rhees!” he shouted. He jumped to his feet and looked around. It took him a second, but he shifted into full panic mode.

He finally spotted her halfway across the channel. It looked like she’d swam south for some distance and now cut across at an angle toward the island, trying to counteract the current, but the flow was too much for her. He tried to calculate the distance she had left and the rate at which she swam. She would miss the island and was in danger of being carried out to sea, but she didn’t stop.

“Oh God, no,” he prayed. Without hesitation, he started out into the water after her. He swam for his life, but he didn’t have fins. When he reached the current, it pulled him north faster than it took Rhees. He’d never reach her. He turned back and swam until the worst of the current released him. He treaded water, waiting.

He’d become painfully aware he couldn’t save her. She would miss the island, of that he was sure. She was already too far across for him to get to her, so he calculated again and waited for her to drift into a better position. He’d try again when the current took her a little farther north. He couldn’t save her, but he would at least be able to keep her company until search and rescue found them—or they drowned. But they would be together.

He watched, without realizing how he held his breath. He let out a loud sob, a sign of his relief, when he watched her miraculously reach the large rock outcrop fifteen meters off the tip of the main island. Her hands frantically grasped for a hold as the current carried her by. Her fingers took hold and she hung on for dear life, catching her breath. Paul turned and made his way back to Duna.

“She made it!” he choked out. He collapsed on his knees within a few feet of the beach and dragged himself up out of the water. He stood as soon as he found the strength to haul himself onto his feet and look back. “She made it.” He laughed giddily with relief. “She’s tired. That’s good.”

Paul knew, even though it was only a short distance, the current flowed strong between the rock and the north shore of the island. He assured himself she was too tired and too scared to attempt to swim the rest of the way.

“Hang on Baby. Wait for the boat. We’ll get you,” he said, willing her to listen to him even though she’d never hear him across the distance.

His hope dashed to pieces when he noticed her pulling herself around, hand over hand, to the other side of the rock. He couldn’t see her anymore, but he said another prayer, understanding she had no intention of staying on the rock.

“Damn it, Baby! Just stay put!”
Too late. He saw her seconds later, making a swim for the island. He bent forward, resting his hands on his knees, concentrating on his breathing. He paced, clasping his hands behind his head, shifting from cursing to praying back to cursing again. It felt like a lifetime, but she finally dragged herself out of the water and collapsed on the sand. She’d made it.

Paul fell to his knees, exhausted from his attempt to swim, and even more weary from the weight of fear. He watched her remove her fins and pull herself up to stand. She turned to look at him, too far away for him to see her expression. He longed—needed—to see her expression. The image of her standing there, holding her fins, staring at him across the channel, haunted him. He had the feeling she’d just taken her one last look before she walked into the jungle and disappeared. He withered.

He dashed away the tears that fell down his cheeks. Was he crying? He couldn’t believe he was crying. The dreadful fear, watching her try to kill herself, and the knowledge he’d been helpless to do anything about it had just about done him in. Love sucked—big time—just like he’d always believed it would. So why couldn’t he turn it off? He wished he could, but—impossible. He needed to concentrate on a different emotion.

Now that he knew she was safe, he allowed his concern for her to be replaced with anger. Anger was easier. He planned every word of the scolding he planned to give Rhees while he waited for Randy.

oOo

Paul swam out to meet the boat and didn’t wait for anyone to let the ladder down. He grabbed the rail and pulled himself in, yelling, “Get me to the other side.”

“Where’s Rhees?” several people asked.

“She swam the channel,” he muttered, and climbed out to the bow. He stood, watching the tree line as they crossed the channel, looking for any sign of her.

Randy beached the boat on the sand and Paul called for her. He jumped off and pushed the boat back into the water before he jogged south along the shore, looking into the trees, calling out to her. Randy followed along the edge of the island while everyone on board speculated about what was happening.

It took some time, more time than the people on the boat had patience for. They were anxious to get back to the shop, but no one dared say anything. Paul reached the small development of beach homes on the otherwise deserted end of the island. He spoke for a few minutes to the only man he could find, and Paul finally motioned for Randy to pull the boat up to the small pier. He hopped onto the bow.

“Let’s go. She hitched a ride on Carl’s water taxi.” A stoic Paul slapped the roof of the boat a couple of times, anxious to get under way.

Randy backed the boat out away from the pier, but when he pushed the throttle forward, the boat’s motor died. Paul didn’t mean to give Randy the killer glare as he tried to start the engine again and again, and Randy seemed to know Paul’s glare was meant for the boat, not him.