Wet: Part 2 (5 page)

“Don’t drink
because it tastes good. Drink to
relax
. And yeah, the last time, you overdid it. You really shouldn’t have inhaled my drink the way you did. I’m talking drunk, not wasted. Do you remember what happened after the dance contest?” She shook her head, embarrassed about being too drunk to remember.

“I scraped you up off the dance floor and brought you home.” He watched her carefully as he shared the information. “You were
awl
over me.”

“I was not!”

“Oh, yeah. You
wawnted
me—jumping into my arms, hugging me, hanging on me—of course, you couldn’t really walk . . . so maybe I read a little too much into that.” A serious crease formed between his eyebrows. “But
awl
that kissing. Well, in retrospect, I might have been the one initiating the kissing, so . . .”

There were so many holes in her memory of that night, she couldn’t be sure if he was teasing or not. In spite of the shock of hearing about it for the first time, she fought to suppress a smile . . . a laugh. She’d never seen this side of him, keyed up, energetic, animated even, funny and so cute.

His tone suddenly changed to sound almost fatherly. “I am
nawt
going to stand here and argue who was all over whom.”

That tipped the scales and she covered her mouth with her knuckles to hide her smile.

“I was quite the gentleman. Well,
mostly
—but my point is, you didn’t wither, cringe, or crawl out of your skin that night. Not once.” He squinted, and his mouth twitched while he watched her process the information. An apparent afterthought made him grin and a look of awe entered his eyes along with a hint of mischief.

“Your breasts are real by the way,” he said with complete seriousness.

“Of course they are,” she huffed. “Why would someone like me want to draw
that
sort of attention to myself?” Horror crossed her face again as she realized. “How do
you
know?”

“No scars.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. How would you know I don’t have scars?”

“I couldn’t let you sleep in that pretty dress.” He seemed to get a kick out of the stupefied look on her face. “After very prudently removing said dress, I asked where your pajamas were. You told me you didn’t have any on the island; that you slept in a bra and panties. I mentioned that didn’t sound comfortable, and you launched into an explanation of how your mother had warned you, girls who are endowed as well as you and her needed to wear a bra to bed or your ‘boobs’ would hang down to your belly button by the time you were thirty.” He couldn’t fight his smirk anymore.

“So I left your bra on, but when I sat on the edge of your bed to reset your alarm clock—I figured you’d appreciate a little extra time to sleep it off—I saw your sports bra hanging in the bathroom. It looked like you’d washed it and left it there to dry. I thought it looked more comfortable than the underwire bra you were wearing at the time.” He paused. “So I changed it for you and got you into bed.”

He watched, waiting for what he knew was coming. She turned pale but stared at him with absolute incredulity.

“Oh, sure! You look at me like that now, but you thanked me that night, said I was very
helpful
. You told me you were surprised I could be so nice. I can be nice . . . if I want to.”

She stood frozen, like a wax museum statue, just staring at him.

“I swear, I didn’t even look,” he insisted innocently, snapping her out of it.

“Liar! You looked for scars!”

“Oops. Okay, I looked . . . a little, but I didn’t see anything.” He held his hands up in mock surrender, loving the look on her face. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, except the. Most awesome. Beautiful.
Real
breasts I’ve e-ver seen in
my
life
. And in my defense, I didn’t know you were keeping them private at that point. Okay, since you won’t let it go, I admit it. Maybe it
was
a little revenge thing . . . for lying to me, because I still thought you lied to me at that point. If I had to do it again, now that I know you didn’t lie, I would never have taken that revenge look—it was just a revenge
glimpse
, really. But now, knowing you didn’t lie, it would have totally been all about lust—I would have
so
taken a lust look, totally. So aren’t you glad I thought you lied to me?”

She covered her face with her hands in utter embarrassment, and he laughed again.

“I was drunk,” he exclaimed. “But you were even drunker than I was.” He closed his eyes, but then opened one of them, looking at her warily. “Want me to shut up now?”

She giggled, too amused by his performance to be angry. “Case in point. You said you have to drink tonight because everyone expects it. If I’m drinking too—”

“Oh please. I can look like I’m drinking everyone under the table.” He let go of her and leaned against the small desk attached to the wall, next to the bathroom. “I’ve worked very hard for years to reach this level of alcohol tolerance. I only get sloppy drunk if I mean to. Trust me.”

She nodded. She did trust him. She trusted him more before he’d confessed to his unappreciated peep show. He’d meant trusting him to know his alcohol tolerance, but he didn’t have to stop the night on the deck, the night she’d asked him to deflower her and he . . . didn’t. She trusted him with more.

“And in spite of your incapacitation, you handled yourself, and me, cussed me out, slapped me around.” He snickered. “You’re tough as nails, you know that, right?” She rolled her eyes. 

“I’ve never known anyone like you, you’re so sweet and nice, and vulnerable—defenseless almost, as if you couldn’t hurt a fly, but man, push you into a corner, you come out slugging. And girl, you pack one hell of a punch!”

“My mom used to say something like that.” She half smiled. He took her hands in his.

“I know I’ve been kidding around about all this stuff, but I wanted to cheer you up, make you laugh, because Rhees, I
know
tonight is going to tax your limits and you’re worried, scared, but we make a good team. You didn’t die at the bottom of the ocean. And you breathed new life into my dive shop with your new marketing strategies. You called me the epitome of everything you don’t want, which really hurt until I realized it was true, and I didn’t want to be the epitome anymore. And the night that creepazoid—we’ve been through some pretty taxing situations, but we made it through, together. I’ll help you through this.
We
can get through this night, together.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but he pulled her close again and put his finger to her lips.

“But just to tip the odds in our favor, I have a present.” He walked out to the porch where he’d left a bottle of wine and two glasses. He carried it back in and proceeded to open the bottle. He winked at her, first a half wink with his right eye, and then a full on wink with his left.

“Let’s get you drunk, not wasted, just relaxed. This will get us started, anyway.”

“Paul? Are you sure
you want to do this? You’re giving up so much.”

He stared at her. Her eyes, her beautiful, honey brown eyes, shined. He turned his attention back to the bottle and concentrated on opening and pouring the wine. He had to clear his throat before he could answer.

“I’m not giving up anything I care about.”

Chapter 5

P
aul and Rhees showed up at the shop together but were separated as soon as people started to arrive, demanding Paul’s attention to get the party underway.

“Have a drink,” he said, pointing to a cooler. He turned to follow Mitch and Eddie, off to help carry tables to the deck. 

She grabbed a beer. She could finally tolerate those after spending time with Paul. She pulled a chair over to her favorite spot on the edge of the deck while she waited for things to get started. She found it fascinating, and lost track of time watching people show up and transform from socially awkward sober to loud, life of the party a few drinks later. 

The deck party had been dubbed in honor of Peder and Assif, who planned to leave the dive shop and the island. They’d heard the next diving destination calling to their vagabond souls and decided to heed the call and move on. Also, the shop’s most recent guests, a group of college students who’d rewarded themselves for their recent graduation by coming to Paradise Divers, would be leaving the next morning.

Claire and Dobbs rarely attended deck parties, but showed up shortly after nine. Rhees heard them tell Mitch about the electricity outage on the rest of the island, a common occurrence. The outage interrupted the movie they were watching at home. They didn’t want to go to bed early, and thanks to Paul’s investment in solar panels at the shop, they decided to join the party for a change, instead of sitting at home in a dark apartment.

Paul drank as he circulated through the crowd, joking and talking. He seemed so relaxed and happy, though Rhees knew he’d prefer a quieter setting. Shy at heart, he did great in social settings, so few people ever figured out his true nature. Rhees happened to be one of the few. His eyes sparkled when he smiled and carried on conversations with everyone he talked to. She thought of her initial impression of him. She liked this Paul better, so much better.

Rhees enjoyed watching Paul through the night but, as expected, several other girls couldn’t take their eyes—and sometimes their hands—off of him. She couldn’t help but notice how many girls
hovered
, as he had once described. True to his word, he gave no hint of interest in any of them.

Eventually, most of the snubbed girls turned their icy glances to Rhees after realizing how often Paul looked over to watch her. Then there were the few diehards, who just refused to take the hint. Especially a girl named Nicole, one of the guests. She followed him around, flaunted her skimpy outfit in his face, and touched him as often as possible.

Rhees forgot she was supposed to be working on her buzz. The wine and the beer had given her a good start, but her high had faded a bit from neglect. She’d been too interested in her study of human behavior. 

Christian finally showed up and Paul seemed excited to see him. He made his way over to greet him, with Nicole still on his heels. The two men engaged in what appeared to be a lively discussion with a lot of hand and body gestures. Nicole tried to participate, never taking her eyes off Paul.

Rhees watched, enjoying how expressive Paul’s face could get when he got excited. Once again, he reminded her of a little boy. Her mother used to say all men were little boys. She’d never understood until she met Paul.

Every now and then, he’d have a quick look her direction and smile warmly, with glistening eyes, before turning back to Christian. It did warm her, made her stomach flutter. It felt good, but scary at the same time. She cursed herself, but refused to ask herself why. 

She looked away to clear her mind. When she looked back, her heart sank, and it felt like her lungs closed off. Paul held Nicole in his arms as they drifted gracefully across the dance floor together. Her face beamed, never looking away from his as he whirled her around. 

Rhees should have known. The real Paul danced before her eyes with another woman. She’d fooled herself again. She’d been a fool her whole life, refusing to face reality, living in fear of her own shadow, life itself. She laughed, no surprise there, so why was she surprised? And why did she feel the need to cry? She’d known all along their little ruse wouldn’t last long. It wasn’t in his nature. He’d told her as much.   

She took a deep breath and wanted nothing more than to just get the night over with, follow through with the plan—make everyone believe that Paul had won. It stung her pride, but that was exactly what she needed.

Yes, she’d never pretended to imagine their fake relationship would last long. It only needed to last long enough to help her appear to be a real grown-up. Once they established that, she needed Paul’s help to at least get the sleaziest creeps off her scent, it wouldn’t matter anymore what he did.

If she didn’t believe so strongly in the plan, she’d go home right then—but it was dark now, and it was a long walk back. She actually began to tremble as she remembered the neglected banana plantation and all the dark, shadowy corners along the way.
Oh, my gosh. I’m never going to be a real grown-up
. She looked for Paul again, her safe harbor. It’d become a reflex. He was still dancing with Nicole.

“He’s already changed his mind,” she whispered, as the light of understanding hit her.

He didn’t want to go home with her and do . . .
nothing
. He wanted Nicole. She obviously had sights on him, hoping to do more than just nothing.  He’d forgotten all about their plan.
All about me.
 

She shoved up from her chair and headed toward the temporary bar, needing help. 

“What are you having, Rhees? Coke Light?” Eddie took his turn that night as the designated bartender for the party.

“No. I need a real drink.”

“What do you need?”

“I don’t know. I had tequila and beer at the dance contest, and bourbon. That worked.” Getting wasted sounded pretty good, after all.

“Um . . .” Eddie looked at her skeptically.

“She wants a gin and tonic, extra lime, make it a double. Triple the lime.” Paul slipped in behind her, set his hands on her waist, and whispered in her ear, “They don’t taste too bad. Ta-kill-ya’s not a good idea tonight.”

“Ta-kill-ya?” She looked up and behind at him, surprised, not only because she didn’t understand what he’d said, but that, out of the blue, he stood behind her, touching her.

“Tequila. Remember what it did to you last time? We want you relaxed, not plastered.” He still hadn’t let go of her waist, but turned back to Eddie. “Give me another bourbon, the secret bottle behind the cooler, two fingers.”

Rhees took her drink back to her spot, leaving Paul at the bar waiting for his. He met her at the chair in the darkest corner of the deck before she sat down, and he looked back at the party to see what she’d been seeing all night from her vantage point.

“You can see almost everything from here.”

He didn’t understand the dirty look she gave him.

“How’re you holding up?”

“Fine!” she snipped.

“Are you having second thoughts? I need to know.” He eyed her, trying to figure out what brought on the sudden bad mood.

“No. I’m ready to get this over with. I know
you’re
ready to be done with it too.”

“What the fuc—” He reeled in his too-quick temper, not wanting to be irritated with her tonight. “What does that mean?”

“You’re going to make me say it? I saw you dancing with Nicole. You’re stuck with me when you’d have more fun going home with her.”

He eyeballed her, suddenly very interested. He tilted his head.

“Are you jealous?”

“No,” she gaped. She did absurd quite convincingly.

“Take a drink of your G and T—a big one.” He tightened his lips so they couldn’t break into a grin, but his eyes gave him away. They too often did.

“Why?”

“Because you need to chill out. The stress of all this is getting to you, more than I realized.”

She took a gulp, cringed when she swallowed. “I thought you said these tasted good.”

“I didn’t say it would taste good. I said they don’t taste too bad.” He watched her with his lopsided grin. “Take another drink.”

She let out a breath, closed her eyes, and gulped down another big swallow and then another. They both watched each other as they continued to take drinks from their plastic cups.

“Okay, now tell me why you think I’d rather go home with Nicole?”

“No.”

He shook his head and gestured for her to take yet another drink. She did. He licked his lips and pressed them together in a thin line before running through several more of his facial motions.

“You’re a very oral guy, did you know that?”

He worried, sure she’d changed her mind.

“You’re always doing things with your mouth. It’s like a nervous tick or something. Are you even aware you’re doing it?”

“It’s been pointed out to me once or twice.” He relaxed. He thought she’d meant something entirely different. Only four people besides his family had ever noticed his nervous habit. His brow furrowed. “But no, I don’t usually realize I’m doing it.”

“You use your tongue a lot too. Are you aware of that?”

“Yeah, I know.” Now she was closer to what he thought she meant the first time.

Her brooding made him grin, wondering where she was going with this, and thinking the alcohol must already be working. She never finished explaining what she meant by bringing up Nicole, but he didn’t want to remind her at the moment, just in case she hadn’t cooled off yet. He’d learned long ago, addressing one woman’s accusations about another rarely ended well.

“It might help . . . when you kiss me, if you’d not assault me with your tongue, right off the bat.”

“Assault you.” His eyes widened. He waited, amused.

“Yeah, it’s a little shocking. Maybe if you’d start out with your mouth closed. You know, just a soft, chaste kiss . . . but lingering, and then work up to a little open mouth, for a bit. And when you do finally—maybe just introduce your tongue first. You know, like knock on the door for a second, don’t just barge in.”

“Are
you
giving
me
kissing lessons?” He bit his lip, not sure if he should laugh or be embarrassed.

She took another big drink. She shrugged. “I don’t know how all the
other
girls like it, but I guess I am telling you how
I
would like it to be done.”

They stared at each other again, his tick doing its thing, but then he put his arm around the small of her back and pulled her to him somewhat forcefully.

She tensed. “And another thing, do you have to always surprise bomb me with your moves? I don’t do physical contact well, especially by surprise. I need a second to prepare myself for it.” He pursed his lips into a frown. He let out a loud breath.

“I’d like to put my arm around you now. Is that okay with you?”

She closed her eyes, but grinned and nodded. He reenacted what he’d just done previously, only in slow motion. She smiled, big and genuinely, blushed a little.   

“May I?” His eyebrows flashed up, questioning as he drew closer, and it became clear he intended to kiss her. She didn’t answer, but let him, very carefully, position his mouth gently on hers, chastely. He lingered for a second and then gently caressed her lips with his. She didn’t tense up. Instead, she put her free hand on the back of his neck.

“Mmm. . .” he moaned, and put the arm with the drink in his hand around her shoulders, careful not to spill it on her. She returned the motion with her other hand, wrapping it around his back. As unobtrusively as possible, he ran the tip of his tongue lightly over her lips before pausing. He opened one eye to check on her. Her eyes were already open and she giggled.

“Am I still doing it wrong?” he asked, without removing his lips from hers.

“No, but you seem so uncertain, like
I
usually am.” She didn’t pull her lips away either.

He smiled and tugged gently on her bottom lip with his teeth. They broke into laughter. “Finish your drink, then come dance with me,” he said. “People are starting to notice us over here. I’d say that’s our cue.”

Her nerves knocked again, knowing the time had come. The show was about to begin. She finished off her drink.

“I should have gone for the Ta-kill-ya. I’m so nervous.”

“Want the rest of mine?” He lifted his glass, offering the one big swallow of bourbon he had left.

She looked at it, looked up at him with an arched brow.

“Oh, yeah. Backwash.” He raised the glass to finish it off, but she reconsidered, snatched it from him, and recoiled as she gulped it down.

“You’re such a lush.” He laughed and sneaked in a quick kiss. He set their cups down on the rail of the gazebo. “Come on.” He took her hand, towed her onto the dance floor where he pulled her into his arms and started dancing a simple slow dance.

“I told Christian I wanted to dance with you the way he did at the dance contest. Nicole happened to be making herself obnoxiously handy, so I used her to help with the lesson. That’s all it was.”

“Oh.” Rhees looked up at him, wondering how she’d read more into it. “I’m sorry.”

“You
are
my pretend girl, right? I need to know, because, I’m about to pretend to let everyone know.”

“Yes. Let’s do this.” The song ended, and a livelier one came across the speakers, motivating her to move.

“I want to see the backbend again.”

“Backbend?”

“Yeah, the night of the contest, you did the sexiest backbend.”

She groaned. “Gads! That night is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“And I’d kill to see you shimmy those hips again, up close.” He moved his hands down to her hips and swished them for her, back and forth. “I’ve had dreams about it.”

She covered her face with the palms of her hands. “Oh my gosh!”

“Pleeease!” His head dropped back like a small child ready to throw a tantrum, as if he’d die if she refused. 

She nervously looked around, trying to make a decision, but her eyes landed on his, the extraordinary blue.

“All right, but support me with your arm. I haven’t done a lot of backbends since college. The last one made me so sore I could barely walk for a week.”

He smiled, and decided not to bring up the other things she’d done that night that may have contributed to her soreness.

“You didn’t say anything about being sore.”

“Making a point. The last thing I needed that day was you, grouching at me about slacking off.”