I was a woman of my word, and about an hour later, I reached the address Jordy had texted.
“Unlucky Lucky!” he shouted my name the instant I stepped through the bamboo entrance of a little hole-in-the-wall bar called La Plancha. The joint had no walls, no doors, and no windows. Only a roof covered our heads, and a soft breeze from the ocean provided temperature control.
The floor was covered with sand, and colorful surfboards hung from the ceiling.
It looked exactly like a place Jordy would frequent.
I glanced down at my current attire—flowy white tank and cutoff jean shorts—and silently patted myself on the back for choosing platforms over stilettos.
[laughs]
I’m sure you guys are also relieved I’d learned my lesson regarding proper shoe attire at beach destinations. Trust me, it only took a few unwanted blisters to make practicality a priority over fashion.
[laughs again]
I offered Jordy a little wave as I walked toward the large bamboo bar in the center of the open and airy room.
The instant I reached him, he stood up from his barstool and lifted me into his arms for a big bear hug. When my feet left the ground, I squealed.
“Put me down, you lunatic!”
He just laughed, and after a good tight squeeze, my platforms touched the concrete floor again.
It was then that I realized he wasn’t by himself.
Three twentysomething men stared at us with intrigue, and I awkwardly offered a “Hello.”
“Lucky, these are a few of my good buddies.” Jordy wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pointed down the line to each guy as he introduced them. “Sal, Clive, and Matty.”
I reached out to shake each of their hands. “It’s nice to meet you.”
All three smiled their friendly smiles and offered similar greetings.
“You might recognize them from the competition,” Jordy added, and I nodded toward Sal.
“You had one of the best runs yesterday.”
He grinned, proud, handsome, and full teeth on display. “That would be me.”
“Congratulations,” I said. “It was, uh, a pretty gnarly wave, huh?”
All four men laughed, especially Jordy.
“What?” I asked, and Jordy just shook his head, amusement filling his big blue eyes.
“The word gnarly just sounds a bit out of place coming from your mouth.”
“Really?” I looked back and forth between the group.
Jordy shrugged. “I think it’s because you look more like a fashion model from New York than a California-bred beach bum.”
Fashion model from New York? I wondered if all of those waves were affecting his vision.
[snorts]
Seriously, gentlepeople, I might dress for fashionista success, but a model I am not.
I mean, I don’t think I’m ugly. But I sure as hell don’t see visions of a runway career in my future. I’m more the girl who is sitting on the sidelines making notes about what the next big hit in fashion will be.
Anyhoo, I ignored his ridiculous comment and focused on the fact that my attempts at surfer lingo weren’t having the effect I’d hoped. “Damn, and here I thought I was getting better at blending in.”
Clive glanced down at my favorite black platform shoes. “Trade in the shoes for flip-flops, darlin’,” he said, and his Southern drawl sounded like it was grown straight from the Texas soil, “and you might have a better shot at it.”
“See, Clive, the problem is my mother raised me better than to wear flats,” I teased with a little wink.
“Cheers to your mom, then!” he said and raised his glass of beer in the air and took a long, hearty sip.
I just laughed it off, overlooking his reference to my mom in the present tense, and made myself comfortable on the barstool beside Jordy.
Right after I ordered a mojito from the bartender, the place livened up with the pounding beat and familiar catchy tunes coming from the live band in the back corner of the room.
Patrons hopped out of their seats and made their way to the sand-covered dance floor, and I watched enraptured as a young twentysomething couple skillfully twisted and turned and gyrated their hips in a salsa-style rhythm.
They looked right at home in the center of the dance floor, and I silently wondered if they were regulars at La Plancha.
“Drinking already?” an all-too-familiar voice called out over the music, and I glanced over my shoulder to find Ollie striding toward us, a sexy, amused little smirk cresting his full lips.
I could hardly register my shock at seeing his face.
But luckily, Jordy and his pals actually responded to his arrival.
“Ollie! My man!” Clive bellowed and hopped up from his barstool to wrap a friendly arm around Ollie’s shoulders.
The rest of the guys pretty much joined in after that, and before I knew it, Ollie’s presence turned our group of five into six.
Me, on the other hand… Well, I just sat there trying to figure out how the one man I’d been trying to avoid was standing directly in front of me being fangirled over by a bunch of big surfer dudes.
So much for avoiding the hotel bar, huh?
Apparently, Oliver Arsen had a knack for unexpectedly showing up every-fucking-where.
Eventually, I found my manners. And after a short hello was passed between us, he ordered a beer from the bar, and I moved my focus back to the dance floor as he chatted with the guys about what the waves were looking like at the competition’s next stop in South Africa.
“Leave your purses at home, mates,” he teased loudly. “Otherwise Eastern Cape will eat you alive.”
Jordy and the guys chuckled, and I tried like hell to tune him out.
It was like my brain was fixated on watching him, listening to him, taking him in.
With sanity being my priority, I moved my gaze back to the young couple gliding across the dance floor. They were spellbound by one another. Their gazes were centered on each other, and every time he pulled her close, I damn near got goose bumps from the sexual tension sizzling between them.
The girl was downright beautiful, and her floral skirt twisted about as her partner spun her in circles around the dance floor.
I felt a bit envious of how confident and secure and free she looked in that moment. Not a care in the world. She was solely focused on living in the moment with her man.
Deep down, I wanted that kind of companionship so badly I could taste it.
[sighs]
Isn’t that what we all want?
Someone to share your life with. Someone to experience life with.
Someone who makes you feel secure and loved and safe enough to let loose and live in the moment.
Someone who inspires you to live in the present and look toward the future and doesn’t inspire doubt or uncertainties.
For those of you who’ve found that with someone, hold on to it tightly. Appreciate it. Nurture it. Never take it for granted.
And for those of you who’ve yet to find it, why in the hell is it so hard to locate?
Why can it look so easy for some, yet for us, it feels like the most impossible task?
[audible pause]
As I watched the beautiful couple enjoy themselves, I couldn’t stop my brain from taking a trip down Memory Lane and straight to Tiago Boulevard.
Dancing had been kind of our thing.
Well, it had been his thing that eventually became my thing too.
We’d frequented a little salsa bar in Harlem, and his Brazilian roots had only made me a better dancer to that style of music. The way he’d move, the way he’d dance so seductively with me in his arms, it had been one of my favorite memories of our relationship.
[scoffs]
Well, if you could call what we had an actual relationship. It feels more like a relation-shit once I factor in the whole lying about moving to another country thing just to break up with me.
[laughs softly]
But I can’t deny that we did have good memories, guys.
So good, that night, while I sat at the bar and watched the crowd at La Plancha dance, I found myself making a mental note that if I had the opportunity to write a Dear Ex-Boyfriend letter to Tiago, I shouldn’t just write about the awful stuff, but the noteworthy, happy stuff too.
Deep down, I knew, and still know, that’s the only way to truly get closure.
You have to see the big picture, the good and the bad.
You have to step outside of yourself, outside of the things that you regret and the things that hurt the most, and see things objectively.
It definitely isn’t an easy task, but it’s needed.
[audible pause]
But that night at La Plancha, even though my mind wanted to linger on my past relationships and past hurts, an outside, larger-than-life force refused to let that happen.
“Want to dance?”
The question broke my trance, and I looked away from the dance floor and into Ollie’s mocha gaze.
[sighs dreamily]
His eyes…they are just…yeah, they’re my version of kryptonite.
Big, brown, and with gold flecks that went so deep I felt like I could actually swim inside of them.
Which said a lot, considering I couldn’t even fucking swim.
Clearly, they were dangerous, and it took me a long moment to realize he’d asked me a question in the first place.
He stared back at me, waiting for an answer, and once I gained enough brain function to form words, I blurted out, “Me?”
His smile stretched all the way to those damn eyes of his.
“No, I’m asking Jordy if he wants to dance,” he teased, and I sighed.
“Can you even dance?”
“What kind of question is that?” he retorted with a raised eyebrow. “Of course, I can dance.”
“Well, you seem to think you can sing, and I’m still harboring eardrum damage from the long drive to the hotel in Sydney.”
“I think you were just a bit jet-lagged,” he said, and amusement cradled his words. “Your ears probably weren’t working properly.”
I laughed at that. “Pretty sure my ears aren’t the problem.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Your horrible, off-key singing.”
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m not asking you to sing a duet, yeah?” He smirked, taking my teasing jab in good humor. “Now, how about that dance?”
Dancing required an up close and personal kind of interaction.
And up close and personal with Ollie sounded like the absolute worst idea.
Well, let me rephrase. My body thought it sounded like the best idea since Nutella, but my mind, well, it knew it was a horrible plan.
“I appreciate the gesture, but…” I paused and shook my head. “I think I’m good.”
But my polite decline fell on deaf ears.
Ollie leaned closer and whispered, “C’mon, Lucky. Show me what you’ve got.”
Show me what you’ve got.
It was a challenge.
And what did the Type 3 Achiever do? You guessed it.
Next thing I knew, my hand was in his, and Ollie led us toward the center of the dance floor.
The heels of my platform shoes crunched across the sand covering the concrete floor, and the music vibrated and pounded inside my ears as he maneuvered us through the crowd and stopped right in the center of the floor, right beside the twentysomething couple.
“You ready, little fire?” he asked and pulled me tight into his arms.
I looked up into his soft brown gaze and tilted my head to the side. “Ready for what?”
“For this.” He smirked and spun me away from his body before pulling me tight to his chest again.
I squealed a little in surprise when his skillful hands managed to keep me on my feet.
“You can actually dance?” I questioned, and he just responded by adjusting my hands on his body, my right hand on his shoulder, my left hand against his waist, before leading our bodies in a rhythm that matched the seductive beat of the music.
And as I stared up into the dark brown depths of his eyes, I felt equal parts high and terrified.
He looked good.
He smelled good.
He felt good.
And the way his tongue snuck past his teeth to wet his lips only had me wondering how I was going to get out of this bar without making a huge mistake.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this draw, this pull, this undeniable need to reach out and take a taste. My body vibrated with the desire to kiss him, taste him, brush my fingers across his bare skin.
The next song bled into another, and I could barely hear it over my heart pounding recklessly inside my chest.
Our bodies stayed pressed together.
Slowly, seductively, we danced to the rhythm Ollie created, and the more I felt the warmth of his skin against mine, the more I felt the way his muscles rippled and flexed beneath my fingertips, the harder it became to ignore the visceral way he made me feel.
He pulled me tighter, and goose bumps spread across my skin like a wildfire.
“I like the way you move,” he whispered into my ear, and the goose bumps turned to shivers. “Pretty sure I’m not the only bloke inside this joint thinking that either.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
Instead of answering my question, he adjusted our bodies so his thigh was between my legs and our hips were pressed against one another.
Up close and personal, people.
We were so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath as it brushed across my cheek.
I was done. Entranced. Undeniably lost in the feel of him.
I stared up at his lips and then his eyes and then back at his lips, and I could tell he was doing the same thing to me.
His tongue snuck out past his teeth again, and my brain started to go fuzzy.
Just take a taste. One little teeny tiny taste, my brain suggested.
But my stupid brain didn’t understand I wouldn’t be satisfied with just one little taste. If I pressed my lips to his, I would want to push my tongue past those perfect lips of his and kiss him. Really fucking kiss him.
[sighs]
It was bad.
I’d never felt so damn tempted in my whole life.
And I knew, with everything inside of me, one kiss with a man like Ollie would never be enough.
He might’ve annoyed the fuck out of me.
He might’ve made me feel crazy at times.
And he was probably the biggest jerk I’d ever met.
But my body was drawn to him like a magnet. And once magnets came together, they stayed together, unless one hell of a force stepped in and pulled them apart.
I knew I didn’t have that kind of strength when it came to men like Oliver Arsen.
I’d more than proven that with my love-life track record.
Thankfully, like a gift from the heavens above, the band finished up their current song and, instead of beginning another, they let the bar know they’d be taking a fifteen-minute break.
I used that short reprieve to step away from Ollie and mutter some bullshit excuse about needing to go to the bathroom.
I didn’t waste any time after that. I just up and left him on the dance floor, turning on my platforms and heading back toward the front of the bar.
By the time I made it inside the empty, one-stall restroom, I stood in front of the mirror and scrutinized my reflection.
My cheeks were flushed, and my heart pounded an erratic rhythm at my neck.
“What in the hell are you doing?” I asked the stupid girl staring back at me.
She had no answers, mind you, and I knew I had to get out of that bar and back inside my hotel room before I did something really stupid.
Apparently, one damn mojito was enough for me to lose all inhibitions and go against everything I was trying so hard to right.
I wet a paper towel and patted the coolness against the hot, flushed skin of my neck and my cheeks until I felt like I’d pulled it together enough to make a quick getaway for the exit.
Once I stepped out of the bathroom, I spotted the guys at the bar and mercifully noted that Ollie was busy talking to a group of young guys off to the side of where Jordy and his three buddies sat.
“I think I’m going to head out,” I said quietly to Jordy once I reached the bar.
But while I said it, my eyes were fixated on Ollie’s location.
Still chatting.
Still distracted.
Still unaware that I was back from the bathroom.
“You’re leaving?” Jordy asked and quirked a brow. “You okay?”
I nodded. “I’m good. Just a little tired.”
“Give me two minutes to close out my tab, and I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
More like, I didn’t have time to sit around and wait for him to do that.
“Trust me, I do.” He flashed a serious look. “I’m not letting you walk back to the hotel in the middle of the night.”
He had a point. I mean, Bali wasn’t an unsafe place to be, but it wasn’t exactly home either.
“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll be out front waiting for you.”
I probably should’ve waved goodbye to his friends.
I probably should’ve said goodbye to Ollie.
I probably should’ve done a lot of things in that moment, but the only thing I could do was walk outside the bar and wait for Jordy on the sidewalk.
I didn’t trust myself to do anything else.