It has been two months since our impromptu midnight ride. Daniel cancelled our date several times due to business in Farquadt. We had a date planned when he called canceling again after the puddle jumper landed in Scotland. The plane didn’t even leave the runway before it was taking off again back to Farquadt. That was two weeks ago. I’m at a point where I think we should forget about it.
I was surprised when he called late last night before his flight. He didn’t want to jinx his return to the states this time. No one knew he was leaving. He insisted on coming straight from the airport to take me out. Luckily, I have the day off. I tried convincing him to wait a day or two, but he was adamant. He was afraid something would come up yet again.
Daniel refused to tell me where we’re going, but only said to dress casual and that we would be gone all day. When the knock at the door finally comes, I’m relieved to see him on the other of the door when it opens. He releases a breath when our eyes met across the threshold. My breath hitches at the sight of him- all male wrapped in worn jeans with a hole in the knee and black tee shirt.
Yum.
His eyes peruse my body, sending a tingle from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. I am dressed casually in a floral print sundress, but he makes me feel naked.
“Hi.” I suddenly feel shy.
“Hi yourself.” He leans in kissing my cheek. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah, let me just grab my purse.” I reply, smiling.
“No need. You won’t need anything.”
“I need-.”
He interrupts me.
“I have everything we need on the bike.”
Excitedly, I respond, “The bike?”
“Yeah.” His lips twitch at the corners. “I thought today was a great day for the beach. Maybe have a picnic, take a walk and talk?”
“That sounds great.”
“Good, then let’s go.”
He grabs my hand. I feel a shock of electricity and gasp. I stare at his hand looking for the source of the zap, but nothing is there.
“Wait, let me change my shoes. Come in and make yourself at home. I won’t be long.”
I tug on our joined hands but they release as he closes the door. I instantly feel the loss. I don’t look back afraid he might see more than I want him to. The familiar groaning sounds of the vinyl couch echo in the room when he sits down.
“Sorry for the mess. We aren’t usually home for long and rarely have company. Cleaning isn’t a priority.” I yell from my room, adding a bathing suit under my outfit.
“We?” He inquires.
“Yeah, Dante and me. This is our place.”
“I didn’t know you lived with him. I thought you were neighbors.”
“No. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you some time.”
“I’d love to hear it. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you said you and Dante weren’t involved, right?”
His tone sounds off. I laugh at his comment.
“No, we’re not involved. Dante doesn’t see me like that.”
“Oh.” He stands when he hears me closing my bedroom door. “I would never have guessed that with the way you two are around each other.”
“Yeah, I know.” I laugh. “We tease each other mercilessly.”
“Ready?”
When he notices the change of clothing, he looks at me with an unasked question. I shrug my shoulders in a silent answer. The thought of mounting the motorcycle and being snug against him has my imagination running amok. Or maybe it’s that we are finally going out. I won’t lie to myself any longer. I missed him.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
I feel my face flame at the wild thoughts of all the things we could do on the motorcycle. His eyes twinkle. His grin becomes roguish and knowing like he can read my erotic thoughts.
“Okay, then let’s go.” He says reaching for my hand.
Again, I feel the quick shock when our flesh touches.
“Oh, wait. Let me leave Dante a note so he doesn’t worry.”
I grab paper and pen from the junk drawer. The note explains enough for Dante to know who I’m with. He left early this morning before I woke to cover a shift for Trish, a friend. I place the note strategically on the refrigerator.
“Ready.”
Our apartment building lacks an elevator, which I have always hated up until this moment, but the leisurely walk down four flights of stairs with Daniel’s hand resting at the base of my back, warm and protective, I’m loving them. Someone opens the door at the base as we near, letting the sunlight in, brightening the dim hallway. Outside he repeats same routine he did the last time we mounted the bike- clasping his hand over both of mine when they’re around his waist. He eases the bike slowly out of the space not letting go of my hand.
“Remember, hang on tight.” He says over his shoulder at the first traffic light, finally releasing my hands to grip the handle bars with both hands.
I squeeze his middle tightly. The speed with which he takes off would have knocked me off if I wasn’t holding onto his thighs with mine. The freeing sensation immediately takes hold. The only worry, in the deepest recesses of my mind, is being in a horrific accident, but that’s part of the excitement. The danger.
Traffic is unbearable in the city at this time. It takes a while to get to the bridge, but once on the highway, time seems to escape us. The blue sky and scorching sun makes for a great beach day- rare for the middle of October.
The beach is teeming with beach goers and surfers enjoying the rare Indian summer day when we arrive. After parking the bike relatively close to the entrance, he points to an open spot next to an oversized tent. He guides me to the spot. I stop to remove my sandals before we hit the sand. Daniel follows suit with his loafers.
The delicious smells of barbeque are wafting from the tent. My stomach protests from its lack of food, my nerves getting the best of me this morning. Daniel seizes my empty hand, pulling me along behind him. We pass the spot he pointed to and continue toward the tent.
“This looks private. Let’s go back over there.” I point to where we just came from.
He ignores me, continuing forward. Annoyed, I tug on his hand attempting to stop him.
“No, you don’t understand, we can’t just go in there. It’s private.”
He smiles at me and realization dawns.
Flabbergasted, I choke out, “This is our picnic?”
He nods curtly, continuing to walk, letting go of my hand.
“Welcome to our picnic.” He says, opening the tent flap wider with flourish, affording me a better look inside.
“This isn’t the type of picnic I was thinking of.” I mutter to myself, but he overhears.
“Really? What were you expecting?” He inquires with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, when you mentioned a picnic, I thought…, you know…, a blanket, sandwiches with sand in them, towels. This is more like five star dining.”
People are meandering by, trying to glimpse in. The whole scene makes me feel as if we’re on display. I’m annoyed with myself when I realize I would probably have the same reaction as these beach goers especially knowing I try never to intrude on someone’s privacy. It sucks when you realize how you truly are no different than other nosy people.
“Next time, warn a girl. Would you?” I say, annoyed when some nosy beach goer sticks her head in the tent.
“Well, where’s the fun in that.” He looks at me questioningly. “You don’t like surprises?”
“I guess they’re okay. It depends on the type.”
He distracts me with his question.
“Is this a good type of surprise?”
“Most definitely, but a little disconcerting. I feel underdressed and on display.” I say as another nosy body peeks in.
“We’re at the beach having a picnic.” He tries reassuring me.
I look around at the splendor of the tent and sarcastically look back at him.
“Yeah, some picnic.”
An ornately decorated table sits amidst the tent. Refreshments and other goodies are manned by a chef wearing a white hat. The wonderful aromas tickle my nose. I inhale leisurely, savoring the scents. A waiter assists me with my seat then helps Daniel with his across from me.
“So, is this a typical date for you?” I say, leaning towards him with my elbows resting on the table, trying to get a picture of what his life must be like.
Before he answers, his eyes darken as his gaze roams down. He turns his head as if something caught his attention outside the tent. I casually look down at the way I’m sitting and realize my cleavage is on display for him.
His eyes are masked when he turns back.
“No.”
Okay.
“What else do I have to look forward to?” I tease trying to lighten the suddenly cold atmosphere.
He looks back at me oddly.
“You know, you’re right. This is all wrong. Wait right there.”
He’s so mercurial. He abruptly leaves the tent without a word. There is a blanket hanging on one arm and a towel in the other when he returns. The waiter rushes over, removing the place settings. I look inquisitively at the waiter then at Daniel, who is spreading a blanket outside in front of the tent.
“What are you doing?”
I walk towards the entrance to verify my suspicions. People are blatantly staring at him as he places the blanket down the straightens it. The man is either crazy or wants to please me. Hopefully. It’s the latter.
“There. That’s more like a picnic. Come. Sit.” He pats a spot on the blanket next to him.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did. You were expecting a picnic, not gourmet dining.” He smirks, throwing my words back at me.
“Crazy ass.” I mutter to myself.
I look at him, embarrassed that I may have said that too loud. And by his shocked expression, he did. He chuckles. I feel my cheeks warm.
“What, no one has ever called you crazy?”
I don’t even bother to hid my rolling eyes.
“Actually, they do.” He replies with a smug smile.
“Then what? No one ever call you an ass?” I remark skeptically.
“No, actually, they haven’t. In my country, history has taught us that by insulting royalty, it is grounds for imprisonment. Even though we don’t practice that custom anymore, some people are still hesitant about insulting the hand that feeds them.”
That doesn’t bode well for us. I always speak my mind without thought for the consequences, driving Dante crazy most times.
“Seriously, you didn’t have to do this. Thank you.”
The sun feels good warming my skin, but too quickly I find myself sweating. I remove my blouse leaving the small white and black polka dot bikini top. Daniel clears his throat. I glancing at him from the corner of my eye and see him shifting his position. Inwardly I smile. The waiter arrives shortly with wine filled goblets breaking the sudden tension. As I am about to take a sip, Daniel offers up a toast.
“To a wonderful picnic.”
“Yes, to a wonderful picnic.” I raise my glass in salute.
He laces our fingers together and the familiar buzzing returns. We simultaneously stare at our clasped hands, sitting there in silence for a while. The setting is beautiful as the waves crash against the shore, surfers and sunbathers wade in the water, kids make sand castles close to the ocean’s edge while their parents look on and a bunch of teenagers play volleyball not too far away. This place is magical. I only remember coming to the beach one other time when I was really young and my mother was still alive.
I turn my upper body to look at Daniel. His shirt is gone. My breath catches at his ripped physique. His smug smile is answer enough to know he knows how he affects me. His body looks as if it is chiseled out of marble- hard and defined. It’s my turn to clear my voice and look away. I try to break the awkwardness but instead stutter.
“Um, so, um, what do you want to do?”
He smiles at my loss of words, clearly having fun with my discomfort.
“Whatever you want.”
Standing up gracefully, my confidence builds with each movement. I slowly bend over lowering my jean shorts, revealing the remainder of the bikini. His sharp intake of air lets me know I achieved my goal. More slowly and even more dramatically, I stand up giving him time to get the full picture. I have never been happier about my figure as I am right now.
The heat in his gaze when I turn around causes my internal thermostat to rise several degrees. Trying to ignore him, I casually walk to the water line and dive in a few feet from the shore. I can barely touch the bottom when I surface.
Holy crap the water is cold.
Floating, I turn around searching for him and see he’s striding determinedly towards me, sans pants. He appears angry but with his shades on, it makes it difficult to judge his mood. I know without a doubt he is angry as he swims closer then passes me without glancing in my direction. Confused by his sudden mood change, I turn to follow him and see something a bit farther away from us, floating out towards sea. He catches whatever it is and holds it up for me to see, but it isn’t until he swims closer that I realize it is the top of my bathing suit.
“Oh God.”
I quickly try to cover my exposed breasts, but I can’t cover them and stay afloat.
My first instinct is to swim back to shore, but I can’t leave the water for obvious reasons. Damn, damn, double damn. I turn around, look up at the sky hoping for divine intervention, but none seems to be coming. This is a cosmic joke or payback for our little flirting before. I took it a step too far and this is His retribution. I look over my shoulder and am surprised to see Daniel directly behind me.
“I’ll tie it on.” He voice is low, repressing his anger, I think.
Embarrassed I say, “I can manage,” while raising my hand for the top.
“Like you managed to tie it before?”
No doubt about it now. Anger seeps through his sarcastic question. I turn around ignoring my current state of undress to see his eyes focus on my bobbing boobs. His nostrils flare before he quickly looks away. His cheeks reddening. I snatch the offending piece of material and place it over my breasts.
“You can look now.”
My embarrassment is burned away by annoyance and my own mounting anger. I turn around allowing him to tie it.
“Next time, I’m stapling it on.” I mutter to myself.
“Better?” He questions me with an arched brow as I turn back around.
“You think.” My sarcastic remark drips like thick molasses, but then I realize I’m being ungrateful and change my tone. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Shall we go back or do you want to swim for a while?” He says in control of his emotions.
“I can’t go back there just yet. People saw what happened.” I say aghast.
“No, they didn’t.”
I look at him disbelievingly. He grabs my waist turning me towards the shoreline, pointing towards the beach goers.
“Do you see anyone watching us?” He whispers, his lips gently brushing my ear.
I shiver.
“No, but let’s stay here a bit longer, just in case.”
He chuckles near my ear. His nearness warms me thoroughly despite the cool water.
“So, you were going to tell me how you and Dante met?”
We tread water near each other. And just like that the bikini incident is almost forgotten. We spend the next few minutes talking and getting to know each other better. I truly like what I hear. I explained how I visited many foster homes until I finally met Dante in the last home. I went into detail how Dante and I narrowly escaped Mrs. Johnson’s house. I told him all about Scott and Richard tormenting.
I smile fondly at the memory of our escape. Although at the time we didn’t know when our next meal was coming or if we would have a roof over our head, it was fun for the most part. Daniel looks inquisitively at me when I don’t explain further.
“Sorry, I was just remembering. Looking back, those were some scary but fun times. Dante has rescued me more times than I can count. But if you ask him, he’ll tell you I saved him. I don’t see that way. We saved each other. He is the most important thing in my life.”
His countenance changes subtly, like a black cloud hovering overhead darkening his features.
At some time during our conversation, we started to wade towards the shore unconsciously. He clutches my hand when we reach the beach. The zing halting the conversation. He leads me to the blanket. I wrap myself in one of the two towels waiting for us, glorifying in its sunbaked warmth on my cool skin. He comes over when I shiver and rubs my arms, not only warming my skin but stoking an internal fire at his thoughtfulness. When we settle on the blanket, our conversation continues.
“So, where was I? Oh, that’s right, foster care.” I say as I lay on my back to absorb the warm rays.
“Go back. What happened to your parents?” He asks, his voice a little deeper then I’m used to.
“My mom died of an overdose when I was six and my dad,” I shrug, shielding my eyes from the sun to better see him, “I never knew him. He isn’t listed on my birth certificate.”
“Didn’t you ever try to find him?” He asks inquisitively.
“No, but maybe for a short period at some point, I may have wanted to. I have long since forgotten about him. If my mom wanted me to know him, she would have said something, right?”
We are so engrossed in our conversation that the waiter surprises us when comes over with two plastic plates. I sit up and accept the plate gratefully from him. As I lower the plate to my lap, the delicious aroma infiltrates my sense of smell. The first bite bursts full of spices sending my taste buds to a happy grave.
“Mmmm, this is good. What is it?” I ask, licking my lips savoring the taste.
I look to the waiter for an answer, but he ignores me and walks away.
Daniel answers. “It’s poached salmon with potatoes straight from Scotland. Do you like?”
I shovel fork full after fork full in my mouth not the least afraid that I probably resemble a pig. He is clearly amused with my hearty appetite as I pause to take a breath and see his smiling face. I smile back, my face flushing with embarrassment.
“It’s delicious. I’ve never had salmon before or anything this good.” I justify.
“Wait until you taste dessert.” He says with a twinkle in his eye.
The rest of our meal is quiet except the occasional moans slipping from me. I usually talk nonstop during meals, but this meal deserved savoring. Daniel must agree because he is as quiet as I am or he’s disgusted by me. When I glance up at him through my lashes, I realize he is smiling, watching me. No hint of disgust anywhere on his face.
When the waiter comes to take the plates away, Daniel asks. “So, what happened next?”
“Huh?” I ask slightly confused then I remember what we were talking about.
I roll onto my stomach, moving my hair off my shoulder to let the sun warm my back and close my eyes. I think back to where our conversation ended before lunch.
“I never bothered looking for my father. Sometimes I wonder if my mother even knew who he was. Her drug problem started right after I was born from what I have been told by the social workers and her so called friends.”
I jump slightly at the touch on my back as he leisurely rubs lotion on my back without being asked.
“Thank you.” I sigh as it feels more like a massage. “If it weren’t for the sweet, old woman living next door, Mrs. Grand, I probably would have starved as an infant. She took me in and raised me like her granddaughter. But when she died, I had to fend for myself. By that time my mother was used to someone else watching me so she was rarely home.”
His hands stop near my shoulders.
“What happened here? How did you get burned in such an odd place?” He moves my hair to the side and after a short time he resumes his task. He sits back on his haunches.
“It’s the birthmark I supposedly inherited from my father. It’s ugly. My mother always made me cover it up because it was so ugly.”
I sit up wrapping my hands around my legs suddenly feeling self-conscious. I guess after a couple of years of being told there is something ugly about you, you tend to believe it.
“I always assumed she didn’t know him, that he was a one-night stand. But now that I think about it, how would she know about a birthmark from him if she didn’t know him. Right?”
I glance at him questioningly.
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
“I didn’t know what to believe back then. That’s why I never searched for him. I mean, why bother when there was no one around who could tell me anything. It took me a long time to finally come to terms that if he wanted me, he would have found me.”
“Did you ever think that maybe he never knew about you? From what you’ve described of your mother it sounds like she may never have told him.”
His different perspective gives me room for doubt.
“I did at first. But why not tell him? She could have forced him to give her money or something. I mean she always needed money.”
“True.” He says thoughtfully. “How did she die?”
“I found her body blocking the door one day coming back from the park. I wasn’t strong enough to open the door. I had to ask the front desk for help. When the manager opened the door, he told me stay outside. I knew something was wrong because what I could see of her wasn’t moving. He must have called 911 from inside because the police came.”
“I’m sorry. No six-year-old should go through that.”
I shrug.
“You had no other family?”
“No. My mother ran away from home when she was fourteen. When she wasn’t high, she would tell me snippets about her childhood and how we needed to stick together because we were all the other had.”
I steal a sideways glance at him and the sympathy in his expression is almost my undoing. I dealt with these emotions a long time ago. Why is he forcing me to relive them now?
“I don’t need your sympathy. It was a long time ago.”
He jerks back as if burned.
“Good thing, I’m not offering it.” He says hurtfully.
“No, but I can see it in your eyes. I hate that look. For years people gave it to me, until I finally stopped telling the story.”
He cocks his head to the side.
“I get it. But what you’re seeing is compassion. Compassion for the loss a small child had to endure.” He responds.
Daniel tries to lighten the mood by smacking my thigh playfully. My body has a different reaction than what he intended. He must recognize it because he inhales sharply. I feel my skin tingle as his gaze roams over my body.
“Okay, so now that I ruined our picnic with my sob story, tell me about you.” I change the subject, slightly short of breath.
“There is nothing to tell.”
I quirk my eyebrow at him. He chuckles.
“Fine, I can trace my ancestry back to 1100 A.D. There are many skeletons in my closet, most of which happened long before I was born. My mother and father had an arranged marriage, who eventually fell in love. I have two sisters and three brothers. I assumed the title,” he air quotes, “at the age of twenty-two, when my parents were killed. I had to raise my two youngest sisters.”
“I’m sorry about your parents. How did they die?”
In a flash, his facial expression changes, but returns to normal just as quickly. The only evidence of his mood change is his cold voice when he finally answers.
“They were killed in a car accident that was ruled an accident because it couldn’t be proven otherwise. I know they were murdered because the same day they were killed, there was an attempted coup in the palace.”
“Oh.” Wow, murder and take overs.
“They were unsuccessful in their attempt, but not before half of the ranking nobles who supported the king were killed. If anything happened to the king, my family inherits the crown.” He pauses as he thinks. “The whole family was supposed to be in the car that day with my parents. If my father had not made last minute changes, our line would have been wiped out.”
“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t the king’s children or siblings inherit? I mean, I don’t know anything about royalty but it makes sense.” I inquire.
“Normally that would happen, but the king is the last of his line. He never married and his mother was never able to carry another child to term. The king is not like me.”
I look at him questioningly again. He stares back as if I should know his meaning.
“Well…., umm…., you see…, he uh….”
The stammering and blushing are quite cute. Since I have met him he takes control in all situations, always knowing what to say and how to act. This makes him more human and less God-like.
“Just spit it out.” I tell him giggling.
“Well, you see, he doesn’t really like women.” He quietly answers.
Doesn’t like women? What does that mean? What’s not to like? Then it dawns on me.
“Oh, you mean he’s gay? Like Dante?” I say bluntly.
“Shh.” He looks around like someone is watching, then whispers, “No one knows for sure except a few, but many suspect. I’ve had to rescue him some nights from some seedy places, when he does in fact actually venture out. Something happened earlier in his rule. Since then he’s been different. He is almost twenty years my senior. My father used to take care of these problems, but when he died it became my responsibility.”
“I see. But why is it a secret. I mean being gay is such an accepted thing nowadays.”
“It doesn’t bother most of the nobility, but there are a few fanatics who truly hold to the old ways despite this being what century it is. It was these fanatics, whom we believe, tried the attempted coupe. They have some archaic notions on how the king should run the country.”
“That’s silly. It happens in most countries. There is always a group who thinks they can do it better.” I counter.
“I know, but that’s the way they think. Like I said- fanatics. They feel if the king was removed forcefully or killed and no one was there to back his peers, then the crown would fall to one of them. We have never been able to prove any of this which is why these fanatics still hold such power.”
The way he speaks about this country makes it sound like it is stuck in the Middle Ages.
“Tell me more about this country of yours. It sounds fascinating.”
“You would have to see it to believe it. Maybe one day I’ll take you.”
“That would be a bit out of my price range, but thank you.”
“Then how did you and Dante pay for those benefit tickets? They were five thousand a seat.”
My heart skips a beat at the price tag and the lie I perpetrated. But he knows where we live. You would have to be blind to not realize Dante and I don’t have any money. Then why is he asking? Time to come clean. There’s no harm as Dante told me. It didn’t matter how we got the tickets, we had them.
“Honestly, I found the tickets at work. Someone dropped them and never realized it. We held them until the day before the event. When no one claimed them, Dante and I decided to use them.”
“Well, I’m glad you did use them otherwise we may never have met.” I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until he finished talking. “I wasn’t supposed to attend either. The king was supposed to but he’s become a bit of a recluse since the recent attempts on his life.”
“Dante said you were there with someone.” I inquire politely.
He stiffens slightly at the mention of another and says, “I was.”
That’s it? That’s all he has to say.
“Who is she?” I ask, trying to control my rising anger.
“Not someone I care to speak of.”
“You can’t tell me who your date was?”
He doesn’t respond. Playfully, I push his arm but he looks down at where my hand rests.
“Daphne, just leave it be.” He replies coldly.
Okay, I touched a nerve. Who was the woman? Is he married? I promised myself I would never be the other woman. Dammit! Why isn’t he explaining who she is? However, much fun this date was it’s over. I don’t date married men. I must get out before I’m in too emotionally involved.
Who am I kidding?
I already am. He is perfect.
While I hastily cover myself with the discarded clothing and search for my sandals, he asks, “What are you doing?”
He tries stopping me by placing a hand on my forearm. I look at his hand then at him with fire shooting from my eyes. He removes it quickly as if it caught by the fire.
“Was that your wife?” I enunciate each word slowly, looking him straight in the eye.
The muscle in his jaw twitches ever so slightly.
“Shit!”
I walk around in a circle, pissed that I allowed myself to fall for a married man.
“I told myself no matter the circumstances I would never be the other woman to any man. Dammit, how could you place me in that position? I have to go.”
I grab my sandals and run towards the boardwalk not looking back.
“Daphne, wait.”
He grabs my arm, turning me towards him after he catching me on the boardwalk, halting any escape.
“It’s not what you think.”
Breathing heavy, I look at him with disbelief.
“Then what is it?” I shout at him.
He remains quiet. I wiggle my arm out of his grasp and take a couple of steps away before he stops me again. This time when he grabs my forearm he turns me, slamming me into his body as his lips descend.
The hand not holding my arm snakes up the back of my neck and fists my hair, leaving no room for escape. I fight the kiss at first; the bitter taste of blood seeping in my mouth. The kiss turns urgent quickly. I feel myself melting into him. The hand holding my forearm drops away to find its place at my lower back. The pressure he applies molds me against his hard manhood. My arms wrap around his neck pulling him closer.
His tongue swipes across the seam of my lips, asking entry. I open for him, wanting more. The kiss feels like home, but then I remember he already has a home with someone else. I push him away. He looks stunned for a moment then the hurt shows.
Fleeing now is not an option. It is a necessity, a matter of survival. My feet are too wobbly to move but I try anyway and nearly fall, leaving him to catch me.
“I don’t need your help.” I push away. “Leave me alone. Go back to your wife or whatever she is.”
“Daphne, don’t.” His tone is angry.
“Don’t what, Daniel? Don’t make a scene? Don’t leave? Don’t what? You don’t get to order me around.” I say, feeling my face flush with anger.
“Don’t walk away. I know you felt it. Please trust me. She is not my wife.” He pleads, his voice cracking at the end.
“Then who is she?”
He remains quiet despite everything I’ve just said.
“I can’t do this, I’m sorry. I thought we may have had something here, but I was wrong. Very wrong! Do me a favor? Lose my number.”
I walk away with my head held high and my back ramrod straight.
“NO!” He roars. “Don’t walk away from me.”
My step falters at his tone. Excuse me, but who does he think he is? Just because he is considered royalty in his country, doesn’t mean he is anything here. He is no one here in America. I continue on my way. My gait steadier with each step I take. I expect him to stop me at any moment, but he doesn’t.
At the end of the boardwalk, I turn around but he is no longer there. Feeling disappointed, I find the nearest bench and drop down on it, burying my head in my hands, rocking back and forth. What am I going to do? I could explain what happened to a cab driver or conductor on the railroad then have Dante meet us with money. However, there is no telling what Dante will do and this may set him off.
Shit, how do I get home? Pretending there is nothing wrong and getting behind Daniel again on his bike is more than I can handle. Daniel is right though, I felt it. The kiss was too much for me. I’m afraid of what I may do on the ride home if I have to wrap my arms around his waist.
The close roar of a motorcycle startles me. I look up sharply to see it coming towards me. It stops in front of me on the boardwalk. The people around us jump back, afraid to be run over by the crazy guy on the bike. A couple not far away take out their phones to take pictures.
“You need a ride home. Get on.” Daniel says emotionless.
“No, I’m going to take the train back.” I say defiantly, raising my chin.
“Get. On. Now.” He is barely containing his anger. “Don’t make me come over there and deposit you on the bike.”
I look at him, the bike, then the gathering crowd.
“Fine.” I huff, not wanting to make a bigger scene.
I mount, stubbornly ignoring his helping hand. He hands me the helmet.
“Hold on.”
I grip the seat handles and he starts to take off but stops short, jerking me forward. I quickly let go of the handles to stop myself from falling off and place my hands on his waist. He grabs my hands and places them around his waist. As I try to remove them, he tightens his hold.
“Don’t be stupid. Hold on.” He growls, snapping his visor down.
Sighing, I nod my head and he takes off. After a couple of minutes of trying to keep my distance in the small space, I rest my head between his shoulders. He smells so clean, like the sun, if the sun could have a scent. Why did he have to be involved with someone?
This sucks.
We make excellent time on the return trip. I dismount and hand him the helmet, not wanting to look him in the eye. Unfortunately, curiosity wins out. I look him in the eye to see a war raging there. He doesn’t say anything, but only stares at me.
“Goodbye, Daniel.” I say, walking away from what probably would have been an amazing relationship.
He doesn’t stop me with words or actions.
As the door to the building closes, I hear the tires screech as he takes off.
“Thank you for a wonderful time.” I say to the empty entranceway around me.
The tears fall and I fear they may never stop.
“What a fool.” I whisper.
Doubt about my actions and his innocence planted itself in my mind like a thick summer weed.