Wet: Part 2 (32 page)

The shampoo she’d thrown in her hair, to put on a convincing show in case he looked, had rinsed clean. She slowly turned around and tried to see through the slit between the curtain and the wall—nothing. She hesitated before turning off the water. She still wasn’t ready for another dreadful confrontation,
if
he hadn’t left. If he had, it hurt to think he wouldn’t fight for her, but either way, she couldn’t stand the blasted cold water another second.

“Aw, shit!” She stood in the shower, remembering she’d packed her towel, and then she thought about how much Paul had forever impacted her life as it hit her what she’d just said. “Aw shit?” she whispered to herself.

She threw her head back in dismay. The towel was a stupid oversight. She stepped out, dripping wet, and squeezed the water out of her hair over the sink. She stared at herself in the mirror, not liking the stupid girl staring back. She’d been a fool to think a man like Paul could ever love her. It made her angry with herself, but the anger bolstered her courage.

She steeled herself and with her head held high, she stepped into her bedroom, naked. Her false courage deflated instantly the second she saw the shattered door. She stood, wavering, trying to make her feet work, to run back into the bathroom, but then her eyes landed on Paul. He lay diagonal across the twin bed, leaning his shoulder and head against the wall. He looked so casual, as if he broke doors down every day of the week.

She saw his eyes widen at the sight of her standing before him, nude and wet, but the shock faded fast and he switched to pretending not to notice. She squared her shoulders, too late to hide, he’d seen her.

“You broke my door.” Her voice sounded flat and cold.

“You didn’t open it.” He met her cool reserve with his own, but his facial tick gave him away. He was as nervous and as scared as she. “I’ll fix it,” he said in the same flat tone she’d used.

He tried so hard,
too
hard, not to look at her.
He’d seen thousands of naked women so she didn’t understand why seeing her made him so uncomfortable. Still holding her head up with feigned confidence, she moved toward her suitcase, sitting right next to him. She unzipped it and started rummaging through her things, looking for her towel. She needed to get dry and dressed.

“You’ll
have
to fix it. I won’t be here,” she said, still trying to find her towel. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have been so hard to dig it out of the bag, but she was nervous, and scared too, trying to act as though standing naked in front of a man was normal for her.

“Running away?” he asked. “Typical,” he said under his breath. “That’s a surprise—back to Utah?”

“No.”

He cocked his head to one side, suddenly confused, and she braced herself for his reaction to her answer.

“California,” she said, as cool and collected as she could.

He sat up, the,
who can keep their cool the longest,
act, apparently over. “California!” he exploded. “The hell you are!”

She refused to look at him. Her trembling grew worse. “My decision seems to disagree with you.”

“You know it does. How could you even think about going to California? That’s crazy—you need to go home.”

“I have no home!” That did it. Tears flooded her eyes. She pursed her lips and glared at him until she resumed her focus on the task at hand. She finally found the towel buried at the bottom of her bag and tugged, but it hung up on the tank clip of her BC. She cursed her decision to drag her gear all the way back to her apartment after all. She’d considered leaving it, not wanting the reminder of her time on the island—it would be a constant reminder of him. Apparently she liked torturing herself.

Paul watched her struggle with it long enough. He let out a frustrated breath and stood to help. She moved out of his way, giving him the room to grab hold and pull it out. He draped it around her shoulders, finally giving her some cover.

“Were you doing that on purpose?” he asked, his voice hoarse and quiet.

“Yes, I’m going to California on purpose. How many times do I have to fucking tell you? There’s nothing for me in Utah.”

“That’s not what I meant.” His lips twitched. “You were jiggling your boobs in my face. Were you doing it on purpose?” He frowned.

She flushed pale. “I didn’t expect you to come busting in here like a mad man. I just got out of the shower. I didn’t realize I’d already packed my towel, and . . . I’m happy to see
you’re
just fine with the state of things, but
I’m
feeling a little out of sorts. You’re not supposed to be here!”

He hung his head.

“No!” she whispered. “I had no idea my boobs were
jiggling
in your face!” She ran into the bathroom. 

He closed his eyes. This wasn’t going well, and he continued to make her miserable. He thought it selfish of him to hope to do that to her for the rest of her life. He stood, stumped, waiting for her to return, but she never did.

“Rhees, you okay?” he asked humbly.

She didn’t answer. He looked around, unsure what to do. He noticed her orange blouse in the suitcase, the one she’d worn the day she first stepped into his life. He ran his fingers over the fabric, put it to his face and stroked his cheek with it a few times, smelled it.

He realized why she hadn’t come out of the bathroom and rummaged through her bag until he found a pair of white shorts to go with the shirt. After a second of hesitation, he grabbed a pair of panties and a bra from the bag as well, and walked to the bathroom door.

“Here.” He held the clothing out for her to take, trying not to look at her more than necessary.

She leaned against the wall next to the sink, her head down. She’d wrapped the towel around her, but she looked lost, like she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t acknowledge him.

“Come on, Baby.” He tried to sound reassuring as he stood, offering the clothes, but she didn’t move. He finally set them down on the bed and reached for her hand, gently urging her into the bedroom. He put his arms around her shoulders and held her for a minute, with no reaction from her. “I’m sorry.”

She stood, almost catatonic, and mindlessly let him take her towel. He focused his attention on his actions, and not on her body, as he took the bra and slipped her arms through the straps. He reached behind her to fasten the clasps.

He picked her panties up from the bed and closed his eyes as he bent over to guide her feet, one by one, and pulled them up into place. He repeated the process with her shorts.

“Raise your arms,” he said softly, and steered the sleeves of her shirt over her hands and pulled it down. He took care adjusting it, and she was dressed.

“I love this shirt,” he murmured, rubbing the fabric tenderly between his fingers. “You never wear it anymore.”

“It’s starting to look worn,” her voice rasped. “I’ve been saving it for special occasions.”

He stood so close, breathing in the smell of her freshly washed hair. His hands caressed up and down her arms. He rested his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” he finally said, watching her face.

She looked down, away.

He repeated it.

“So you get to feel that way, but I don’t.”

He lowered his eyes, looking like a lost little boy.

“You’d be better off if you didn’t, but I won’t tell you not to say it again.” He closed his eyes. “It sounds too good—frightening as hell—but so, so good. I love you,” he said again.

She looked up and groaned. “I know—too much to
defile
me. I remember! You won’t make love to me because then I’ll be damaged goods. Is that why you need a different woman every night? You don’t like to touch what you’ve touched before?” She shook her head at him. “Pfft! And I thought I was the one with germ issues.”

Paul didn’t mean to, but he laughed at how she’d misinterpreted what he’d said.

“That’s not what I—”

“Oh, and I guess I wouldn’t be the life of the party anymore, the court jester. If I’m no longer ignorant on the subject, I won’t be able to keep you so amused with all my stupid naïve antics. ‘Why do you have to be so damned cute’?” she mocked. She tried to get by him, going for her suitcase. “I have a ferry to catch.”

He rolled his eyes and threw out his arm, catching her around the shoulders. He pulled her into him, standing behind her.

“Don’t,” she huffed and turned her head, trying to get away, but he took advantage of her exposed neck and kissed it from the base of her neck, up to her chin.

“I meant what I said in the context of me being the defiler, not you being anything but better off if you’d never crossed my path.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better?” She turned her head to look at him with angry eyes.

“I love you,” he said, trying to stay on track in spite of her ability to turn everything upside down. “I’ve never said that to anyone before.”

“Are you looking for a trophy? Or were you expecting me to organize a banquet in honor of your accomplishment?”

He snorted another non-humorous laugh. “You’re
nawt
making this easy. I never meant that it—that you—would be dirty if we . . . I’m the one—I’m dirty, Rhees. I’ve participated in just about every depraved, self-destructive act imaginable. Well, there’re one or two things I didn’t quite get to. I had to draw the line somewhere.”

He grew frustrated trying to convey his thoughts. “I’ve managed to sully myself with more stains than the average degenerate can chalk up in a lifetime, so yes, I believe that doing what you wanted today would have been a mistake—can we please just slow this down a bit and really talk?” He planted his lips on her cheek and left them there while he spoke into her skin. “I have something important to ask.”

“No.” She tried to get away from him again.

He didn’t let go. “It’ll only take a minute.
Pleease
?”

“Fine!” She turned in his arms and he loosed his grip on her. Things looked a little more hopeful than before. Rhees grabbed his wrist, removed his watch, and sat on the edge of the bed. She held it in her hand, staring at it for a minute.

“When I say go, you have
exactly
one minute. After that, I’m on my way to the ferry. If you try to stop me again, I get violent, understand? You’re bigger and stronger than I am, so you’ll probably win, as usual, but I promise, if you try to stop me again, you, or I, or both of us, will wind up hurt—” She paused. “. . .
Physically
hurt anyway—the emotional damage is already done.”

He felt terrible about the pain he’d caused her.

She locked onto his watch again. “Go.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, standing in front of her at a loss.

“Fifty-five seconds.”

“What?”

“Fifty.”

He laughed briefly. “I should have thought this through. Give me a minute.”

Her eyes shot up from the watch to meet his with an icy glare. “Forty-five.”

“Shit,” he said. “You’re serious!”

“Forty.” She looked back at the watch.

“Damn it! I don’t have this planned out . . . I’ve never thought about how I’d do this.” He watched her, looking for something, anything.

“Thirty.”

“God damn it! Stop counting down.”

She gave him a look to suggest his time was running out—because he’d said to stop counting down.

He panicked. He knelt down in front of her on one knee. “Fuck! I don’t know how to do this.”

She shook her head, impatiently watching his watch.

“Dani Girl, I love you!”

“Ten,” she whispered, faintly.

He stared at her with befuddled eyes. She’d confused him. He panicked and just blurted it out.

“Marry me!”

The watch wasn’t working, or Rhees didn’t notice it anymore, even though she stared at it. It took forever for her brain to resume working again. She blinked slowly.

“No.”

Paul glanced down, stunned, confused.

“That’s the wrong answer.” He looked back up at her, but she still hadn’t taken her eyes off the watch. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Why?”

She took a minute to answer. “Because you’ll just hypnotize me with your beautiful, sparkly, magical eyes, and then I’ll say yes, and then we’ll get married, and then you’ll hate me for making you think that you had to marry me, when you’ve always said you never wanted to get married, and then we’ll both be miserable, and then you’ll leave me, and then you’ll be happy, but then I’ll be miserable, and—”

He pushed his way between her legs and kissed her to shut her up. She did shut up, but she looked down.

“Look at me. Come on, Dani Girl, look at me,” he breathed softly next to her ear and then peppered her cheek with tender kisses all the way back to her lips. “We both know you want to.”

She bit back a smile, but turned her head, still refusing to meet his gaze. He leaned up even closer. He pulled her chin around with his finger, but she closed her eyes. He slowly began grazing her jaw with soft, caressing kisses.

“I could never hate you.” He kissed the other side of her face the same way. “Look at me,” he cooed.

She shook her head, her eyes still closed, but she leaned into his mouth, savoring the way his lips warmed her skin, the way his breath tingled.

“You don’t believe in love,” she whispered. “You don’t want to get married.”

“Yeeaah.” He took her face between his hands and brushed her lips with his, repeating her own words quietly between kisses. “I decided that 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.”

“You can’t use the same argument you rejected only a few hours ago.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, Paul. You can’t.”

“I can.”

“No, you—”

“Just did.”

She finally looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You big baby, you don’t fight fair.” 

“Hmm . . . I usually fight to win, but I hope this time . . . we’re both winners.” He finally had her eyes and he knew he had her. She put her hands behind his neck, he moved his around her waist as they stared into each other’s eyes. They both looked frightened and uncertain. 

“You’ll get tired of being stuck with the same woman for the rest of your life. You’re going to get tired of me.”

He pondered what she said for a second, but suddenly, he climbed onto the bed. She moved back, away from his advance, but he followed and landed on top of her, pinning her beneath him. He kissed her once.

“Never.” He enveloped her in his arms and leaned in. “You are my nectarine.”