Liv
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have landed in Venezuela. We hope you all have a great trip and check out the beautiful sights of the country,” one of the pilots announces over the PA system. At this, the snapping sound of seats unbuckling ensues all around me. Passengers grab their things and begin trailing down the aisle, relieved to finally leave after sitting down for nearly six hours. My own feet feel like they’ve fallen asleep on me, and my neck is a mess. But it’s nothing a little walking around can’t fix.
I take mine off with one hand; my other is still gripped by Grey. I smile a reflective smile when remembering how he looked at me when I took his hand in mine. I saw how apprehensive he looked when boarding the plane. He shot so many nervous glances around, I was afraid his eyes would magically turn into actual bullets and shoot up the plane. And when we first took off, I couldn’t take it anymore. The look of true terror, the sweat on his forehead—I just had to comfort him.
I had expected him to rip his hand from mine and move into the empty seat. But he didn’t do that. Instead, he looked at me with this look I still can’t decipher. Awe? Adoration? Relief? I think it could have been a mixture of them all and maybe bits of shock and hatred. But not toward me. Why would he hate himself? I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter.
After, he just sort of fell asleep on my shoulder. He must have the worst neck pain, to have been bent over so low for six hours. What really amazes me is the fact that he never once loosened his grip. I thought he loathed me so much, he wouldn’t be able to stomach sitting next to me for hours, but he proved me wrong and held onto me like the world would come to a fiery demise if he let go.
“Grey?” I speak low and gently shake his shoulder. “We’ve landed.”
“Mmmm, go away, Prince…” he trails, waving his hand in my face before turning his back on me.
I feel myself grow incredibly hot in my cheeks as passengers chuckle, watching me trying to wake a grumpy man from his slumber. Mind you, he’s still holding—more like squeezing—my left hand. I stand up and pull him upright and rub his scruffy cheek.
“Grey, you have to wake up. The plane has landed.”
His eyes slowly flutter open, and I am locked in a bubble of awe of how beautiful he is, even if he looks sort of constipated. I laugh at my thoughts, and he scowls even harder than before.
“What’s so funny?” he grumbles.
Your face.
“Nothing.” I smile and stand, but he moves, and I’m yanked back into his chest. He has the tightest grip ever. I don’t say anything but raise my brows as he yawns and stretches his back, pushing me into the seat in front of us.
“Sorry.” He gives me a tight-lipped smile, but he’s too irritated for whatever reason to let it last long. He glances at our interlocked hands, and I quickly, nervously, avert my eyes. “What’s this?”
“Don’t ask me. You were the one who wouldn’t let go.” I smirk, watching his reaction. He narrows his eyes at me and laughs dryly. I laugh, nearly snorting at how pink his cheeks are.
“Shut up!” he cries and pushes my hand from his.
I finally stand, unable to stop laughing. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed.” He stands up, and I playfully poke his chest. “I knew there was a big ol’ softie afraid of something under this tough jacket and these tattoos of yours.”
He grabs my wrist and tips my head back. “We all have fears, so don’t you go high and mighty on me.” His lips slip into a crooked smile that makes my stomach churn with hellfire. “What’s yours?” His voice is low and gritty.
Losing you forever…
“Clowns?” I lie, and it sounds more like a question.
His eyes shift between the both of mine while he flicks his tongue out the corner of his pink lips. I try not to stare at it or the way his thumb is gently caressing the back of my hand.
“Then how do you live through the day after seeing yourself in the mirror every day?” He breaks the silence and brings out two big guns: his deep-deep dimples and glimmering black eyes.
I gasp and feel the tension between us fade away. “Screw you!” I push past him and walk down the aisle. We are the only passengers left on the plane, but the attendants have begun cleaning up after us. I made sure to clean out our aisle from all the chips I ate and beverages they offered. How I managed to get through the flight without using the bathroom once will be a mystery. Though I think it had something to do with the two-hundred-pound fighter crushing into my side, which I surprisingly didn’t really mind.
He catches up to me and throws an arm around me as I step off the plane and into the portal that bridges from the plane to the airport. “I think you already have, multiple times, if I remember correctly.”
“Grey!” I try to push his arm off, but he just pulls me tighter into his side.
He hisses through his teeth and bites his lip. “Oooh, princesa, don’t wear it out or you won’t be able to scream it again.”
Oh my God! He’s insane.
I anxiously look around for little children or people in general. “Grey, please, stop.” I am no longer able to resist the warmth taking my cheeks by storm.
“That’s a first.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I slap a hand over my face. My God, he can be so embarrassing. But at least he’s in a better mood than when he woke up on the plane. He descends into roaring laughter that has me shifting on my feet for some reason. He directs us to baggage claim, and we stand with other people waiting for their luggage to pop up on the rotating conveyor belt.
It’s quiet between us, but it’s a comforting silence. As I watch bags go around and round, I realize a lot of girls are looking at us. I think it’s because of Grey—he’s the most handsome—I mean, he is pretty attractive; there’s no denying that. They must be wondering what I’m doing with him. But I notice they aren’t just looking at him; they’re looking at my shoulder. I don’t understand it until I look down and freeze. Grey’s arm is wrapped around my shoulder, I’m playing with his large hand, and he has his other hand slung around my waist, my behind almost close to touching his front.
I feel hotter than the sun, but I have no time to correct myself, because he perks up and announces, “I see them!” He drags us over to the belt, and we snag our luggage. We still haven’t let go of each other’s hands as we stroll through the airport toward the exit. It feels good, almost too good for me to comprehend. But then my pocket buzzes, and we stop so I can reach for it.
Noah.
He must see the screen, because he says in a low, gravelly voice, “I’ll go see if my uncle is here.”
He’s gone with my luggage before I can open my mouth.
I frown at his retreating back that gets lost in the crowd. “Fuck,” I curse under my breath and close my eyes briefly to gather my thoughts. I lick my lips and exhale before moving to the side and answering the phone.
“Liv?” he says.
“Hi, Noah.” I smile widely, even though he can’t see me.
Silence sparks.
“How was your flight?” He sounds like he’s trying his best to not give up on me. I don’t know if he should try not to; I have a feeling I’ll only end up hurting him. But he’s a good guy, and I want to try with him, really.
“It was okay,” I tell him. “I watched a couple of movies and slept for a little while, but I kept waking up because of the snoring bear next to me…” I stop talking. Why did I just bring up Grey?
“Oh, you sat with Grey?” He spits out his name with a certain thickness of hatred, it makes even me shiver.
“Um, yes…but he was out the entire flight,” I say quickly, as if it’s any consolation to make him feel better.
“Mm-hmmm,” he hums with a tired sigh.
I sigh too. “I’m so sorry how we left things…I didn’t mean to upset you. I just made a rash decision and—”
“It’s all right,” he cuts me off, and I can just see him running a hand over his hair. “Listen, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay, bye, No—”
The line dies.
I huff out a heavy breath and shove my phone in my back pocket. He hates me. I don’t think I can live with this pressure in my chest. I close my eyes and thread my fingers through my hair and clutch tightly, trying to pull my thoughts together to make sense.
Suddenly, a hand is curved on my hip, and the pressure is non-existent.
I lift my eyes and find Grey searching my face.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and raspy.
I give him a tight smile and nod. “I’m perfect,” I tell him, but I don’t even believe myself.
His raised brow and little hum tells me he agrees. “Sure…” He stares into my eyes for a really long while, and I feel my palms grow sweaty. I let them fall to my side, but my right meets his, since he is still holding me. His fingers trace my skin, and I take in a deep breath and exhale shakily. His touch will forever have this strange, fiery effect that threatens to melt me into a puddle of arousal.
Arousal? Yeah, it’s time he takes his hand off.
He drops his hand, catching my wandering eye. “He’s here.” He sounds closed off again, and I frown as he backs away and walks out of the airport, leaving me behind.
Did I make a mistake coming here? I have these two guys I really like hating me. Except one of them can’t keep his freaking hands off of me.
I push my conflicted thoughts to the side and follow him out. I instantly find him shutting the back of a green pick-up truck. He catches my eye and enters the backseat of the truck. I walk over and throw open the passenger door. I am immediately met with a pair of big dark brown eyes. A dark-haired, mustached man wearing a thin button-down shirt and a tank top smiles down at me with a crooked smile I instantly stamp as the family smirk.
“You must be Olivia!” he exclaims with a fruitful boom of laughter as I climb inside.
I click on the seatbelt and thrust a hand out with a smile. “And you must be…” I trail and instantly hate myself. Grey told me absolutely nothing about his family. Great, now he must think I’m terrible for not knowing his name when he’s gone out of his way picking me, a stranger, up along with his nephew.
“Fernando,” he finishes for me, slapping his puffy palm into mine and shaking abruptly. He takes the other and rubs the back of my hand. I can’t help but giggle. Is this back-of-the-hand rubbing a family thing too? Geez, Grey can’t be original, can he? “Grey was always a little asshole,” he jokes, and Grey rolls his eyes, proving his uncle’s point.
I laugh even harder, even snorting, which I really wish I didn’t do. “I really am sorry, but I have to tell you.” I lean closer and whisper just loud enough for Grey to hear me, “He hasn’t changed at all, maybe even got worse.”
“Oh, screw you!” Grey snaps while his uncle reels back in laughter while clapping his hands.
I shoot Grey a look and mouth, “Oh, but you already have.”
He narrows his eyes but has no comeback.
Proud, I wink and turn back in my seat.
“Oh, I like you, Olivia,” Fernando boldly says, pulling out of his parked spot. “You call little Grey out for being what he doesn’t even try to hide, asshole.”
“If you guys don’t stop calling me a fucking asshole…” Grey warns, gritting his teeth.
“You’ll what?” I provoke him, smirking in the rearview mirror.
His uncle is a mess, with a tanned round face like a red tomato.
My pocket buzzes, and I pull out my phone and open it up.
I wouldn’t keep doing that if I were you, Grey texts.
Panicked, I shoot my eyes to the rearview mirror.
He’s the one smirking, and it’s the real deal.
I blush and sink in the seat. I keep quiet for a little while, but Fernando is an excited man, I’ve quickly learned. He talks loudly and fast about anything and everything. Like his growing garden of spices in his backyard, how he won the biggest room for him and his wife in the house we’re staying in, and much more. And as amazing it all sounds, I just can’t stop staring out the window.
Venezuela is much more beautiful up close than seen online. The water we pass over on a very long bridge is the most beautiful blue I’ve ever seen. And the coconut trees are towering. I can see a few enormous buildings in the distance across the water—the city. And on the far side I can spot a little bit of mountains—the country. I would love to visit every place and document, but I don’t think it’d be appropriate, seeing why I am here in the first place.
My eyes wander, and I find Grey staring in the rearview mirror…at me. I blush a little and hold his gaze, feeling conscious with my head peeking out of the window a little, my hands clutching the door. I look away at the approaching shoreline of the ocean as we’re getting over the bridge. I assume he’s caught himself and gives me time to take in this beautiful country. But when I look again, he’s still staring at me. And this time…I don’t look away.
***
“Olivia! Oh, you look just as beautiful as Grey described.” A lady wearing a floral apron, graying hair, and a warm smile greets me loudly with wide eyes as I get out of the truck.
“Abuela,” Grey groans and rubs his face, leaning against the truck.
I laugh at how embarrassed his grandmother’s made him and walk into her arms. Shows him he isn’t as invincible as he likes to portray. I love it, and I love her. She smells like dough and lime floor cleaner.
“It’s so nice to meet you…” I trail when I pull back. “I’m sorry.” I smile apologetically and throw my thumb over my shoulder in Grey’s direction.
“Ah, he’s still an asshole.” She nods knowingly with a cheeky little smile.
“What the hell is it—call out Grey day?” Grey snaps behind me, and I laugh again and stick my tongue at him over my shoulder.
He shows me the middle finger, and Fernando snorts as he walks up to us.
“He’s still an asshole,” he confirms, and she nods. He walks into the house behind her, and I smile.
I love his family already.
“I am Alma,” she informs me, then takes my hands in hers. So wrinkly and soft, I love her. “And you are really beautiful!” she exclaims like she’s making a boastful toast, and I giggle as Grey hits the truck with his foot. “Boy, you calm down before I set you in the corner or send you to bed. Now come over here and give me a hug.” She sounds like his mother, and from the way he calms down but still crosses his arms and pouts like a child, I’m guessing he really took her for his. A pang in my chest makes me sad, because his mother is in an asylum. That’s random, but then another pain arrives as I realize she is to him as Louise is to me, an alternative mother figure. We are a lot more alike than I thought…
Grey rolls his eyes and walks over to us. “Hello, Abuela,” he mumbles as he bends all the way down to hug her. She is very short; I’m guessing he got his height from his mother’s side.
“It is so good to see you,” she sighs, rubbing his back.
“Same,” he grumbles, and I giggle behind my hand. This is so cute. He stands up and quirks a smile at me, nudging my arm. “Shut up.” He rubs his neck and his cheeks, embarrassed.
“Well, come on. I oughta show you where you’re sleeping and whatnot.” She smiles as she rubs her hands on her apron, turning to the rusting white gate.
We follow her up some steps, and I examine the two tricycles laying in the over-grown, brownish grass. I stare up at the two-leveled house and its chipping white paint. We walk through a red door with an adorable door-knocker of a cupid and into a small foyer where she instructs us to take off our shoes.
Grey groans like he’s forgotten the rules since being here but kicks off his boots aimlessly. I sigh and place our shoes and a few others neatly in a metal rack. She laughs at me, but it’s in a sweet way, like I finally understand her struggle. I smile at her, and she leads us up a rickety staircase to the second floor.
I look around at family photos and find myself smiling at a lot of the ones that had a little pouting Grey. Like always. He really was a little asshole…but he’s grinning and looks generally happy in a lot. I sort of can’t believe I’m walking through Grey’s childhood. On the ride to the airport, he explained that he lived here until he was eight. A year after he was born, his father went to America for a better job than working graveyard shifts at construction sites. His mother gladly went with him, leaving him behind while they sorted out their finances and living arrangements. This went on for seven more years, like they had forgotten him, until one day they finally had him come to America.
“Well, this is it,” Alma says from down the hall.
“Where’s the other—” Grey begins.
“You didn’t tell me she was coming until last minute,” she tries to whisper.
I frown and walk over to them. I had stopped to stare at a picture of Grey chasing one of his cousins with a baseball bat, dressed in all black. Typical.
“What’s the…oh.” I snap my mouth shut and stare at the one twin bed against the wall. “Oh…”