Chapter 14
“I need to hold you,” said Sebastian, softly.
I scrambled onto his lap and we clung to each other in the dark of the country club’s parking lot.
All our hopes and fears had been explored in those tense few minutes with Ches. Sebastian was strong in so many ways, but he was also so young. And now he needed me and I wanted to give him comfort, to reassure him, to protect him from the world. He needed me—and I needed him.
I held him tightly, pulling him closer. Gradually his body began to relax, the tension leaking away.
“So,” I said, breaking the heavy silence, “you found an apartment in Little Italy?”
I felt him smile against my neck.
“Yeah, I thought you’d like that.”
“I do. Tell me about it.”
He let out a long breath and settled me more comfortably in his arms.
“It’s got one bedroom and one bathroom and is on the fourth floor of an apartment building on 82nd Street. We’ve even got an elevator.”
I smiled. I didn’t care how many elevators it had; I just wanted it all to be real.
“From the top of the building you can see Staten Island and the Statue of Liberty. We can walk along the Belt Parkway Promenade, or ride bikes—people go kite-flying there, too…” he paused. “And the rent is only $1,250 a month, but that’s unfurnished, and we get 875 square feet.”
“So much room.”
I couldn’t bear to tell him that despite the tiny size of the apartment, the rent was still more than twice the amount I currently had in my checking account.
“Yeah, well…” he continued. “But it says it’s near the train and we can walk to Coney Island in about 30 minutes. Oh, and it’s only four blocks from a park.”
“It sounds perfect.”
He sighed. “I almost phoned the rental agency but…”
“Too soon.”
“I know,” he sighed again. “Jesus, Caro. How the hell are we going to get through three more months like this?”
“Because we have to,” I said in a steady voice. “And we will.”
A look of admiration flickered across his face.
“God, I love you!” he said.
He kissed me lightly on the lips but his touch was like an incendiary device going off inside me. I kissed him back deeply, pouring all the angst and fear and passion I could into that one moment, showing him how much I loved and needed him, too.
His body responded immediately and I felt his arms tensing around me.
“Let’s go somewhere,” he said, his voice low and rough.
“I don’t want to go to my place,” I said, a shiver running down my spine. “I don’t know what time David will be back. We can’t risk that.”
“Where is the bastard?” Sebastian spat the words out.
“At a mess dinner.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that—Dad went, too. They’re usually pretty late though,” said Sebastian thoughtfully.
I shook my head. “No, I’d rather go to the beach. Anywhere but home.”
The word sounded like a lie on my lips. It wasn’t my home: not anymore.
“We could drive out to the beach? But it’s pretty cold tonight—no cloud cover. I guess we could stay in the car.”
He sighed. I knew what he was thinking. After the luxury of a bed, neither of us really wanted to revert to an awkward backseat fumble.
“We could find a cheap motel,” he said doubtfully.
“We can’t afford it,” I reminded him. “Let’s just drive out to the beach and…”
“We could go to my place,” said Sebastian suddenly.
“Excuse me?” Had I heard him right?
“Yeah! Dad’s out at that officers’ mess dinner with the asshole. He always stays over—he usually passes out in a bachelor room,” he said, the disgust clear in his voice.
“What about your mom?”
He pointed to the clubhouse with his chin. “Drinking.”
“How’s she getting home?”
“Like I give a damn? Taxi, probably. But she won’t come in my room. She never does—she stopped coming in my room when I was ten.” He paused, his lips curling with contempt. “Anyway, she usually can’t even make it up to their room—she just sleeps on the couch in the den.”
“I don’t know, Sebastian…”
I felt freaked at the thought of being in Donald and Estelle’s house, but now Sebastian had suggested it, I was burning with curiosity to see his room.
“How will I get in without being seen?”
“There’s an empty lot next door and we’ll go in through the backyard. No one will see us.”
He sounded excited.
“Okay,” I said, shaking my head in wonder at what the hell I’d just agreed to.
He grinned at me, a beautiful, wide, beaming smile.
We drove back listening to Lucia di Lammermoor—the tale of a girl caught in a feud between her own family and that of another powerful clan. And then she went mad. I hoped it wasn’t portentous.
I parked my car behind the vacant lot, making sure it was as well hidden as it could be on a public street.
“Okay?” said Sebastian, squeezing my hand.
I laughed nervously at my own recklessness.
He led me through the darkness, following the line of a high fence. When we got to a large and beautiful Japanese maple that grew close beside, he stopped. The tree partially obscured the fence.
“How are you at climbing?” he grinned at me.
“You’re joking?” He just smiled at me. “You’re not joking?!”
“I’ll help you.”
He climbed the fence easily, his strong arms pulling him up and over. He’d obviously done it many times before. He disappeared from sight briefly, then reappeared, balancing his torso on the fence as his arms reached down for me.
“Jump! I’ll pull you up!”
I took a deep breath and ran at the fence, jumping as high as I could. Sebastian grabbed my wrists and pulled me up but our combined momentum was too much, and we were pitched over the fence, crashing down onto the turf below.
The air was forced from my lungs and I lay there winded for several seconds. Sebastian struggled to sit up, which wasn’t easy as I’d landed mostly on him.
“Caro! Are you okay?”
I couldn’t answer.
“Caro!”
I gasped for air and started to giggle.
“Shit! You had me worried there for a minute. Seriously, are you okay?”
“Ow!” I sat up slowly, still slightly hysterical. “If I have to come in through your backyard again, I’m going to buy a ladder.”
Suddenly he pulled me to his chest and kissed me fiercely.
“What…what’s that for?” I gasped.
“You’re just so…brave!” he said, in awe.
I was pretty certain he had me confused with someone else.
“You are!” he insisted. “You always take that leap, whatever it is. God! I love that about you!”
I flushed at his unexpected praise—I really didn’t think it was justified, but I loved that he’d thought it, and loved it even more that he’d said it.
“Come on,” I whispered. “I want to make out in your bedroom.”
“Definitely up for that,” he agreed, laughing quietly.
He pulled me to my feet.
“Wait here a sec. I’ll make sure there’s no one around.”
I watched as he climbed onto a water barrel outside one of the rooms and levered himself in through a narrow window. I had the distinct impression that he was enjoying himself.
I stood alone in the darkness, knowing that I was being swept along by all the craziness; or maybe, finally, I’d just dove right in and stopped fighting it.
I saw a light go on upstairs and a moment later Sebastian was unlocking the back door.
“Coast’s clear,” he said grinning. “There’s no one in.”
From what I could see in the gloom, the Hunters’ kitchen was sleek and modern and well equipped. But everything had a pristine look about it, as if most of it had never been used. I remembered Sebastian saying that his mother never cooked. I could have gone to town in a kitchen like that—it was almost to a professional standard. I wondered why a woman, why anyone, would want to have a show-kitchen like that and not be tempted to use it. Maybe the answer was in the description: a show-kitchen; a kitchen for show—like everything else in Estelle Hunter’s life. Despite excessive opulence of design, the room had a neglected air: the trash can was overflowing with pizza boxes and a surprisingly large number of empty wine bottles, beer cans and hard liquor bottles had been tossed haphazardly into the recycling box.
Sebastian towed me quickly down the hallway and up the stairs, eager to get me into his room. An unpleasant thought crossed my mind—how many times had he brought Brenda here, maybe to make out in his bedroom?
I tried to ignore it, but the idea was like a worm in my brain, wriggling, wriggling, burrowing away.
On the upper floor, we passed several empty rooms that looked like guest suites before Sebastian opened a door at the end of the corridor. From the layout of the house, I guessed that this room, his room, must overlook the backyard. The fact that his parents had put their son as far away from their own room as possible had worked out well for Sebastian—in the end.
He’d turned on his bedside light and drawn the curtains; I could feel the suppressed excitement coursing through him.
His bedroom was small, barely bigger than a box room, with a narrow, single bed pressed against one wall. Several old surfing posters were tacked to the only free wall space; the rest were covered by unmatched bookshelves, crammed with a mixture of CDs, paperbacks, a few hardcover books, with what looked like surfing trophies jammed in among them.
There was a large chest with one of the drawers partially open, and a couple of tshirts hanging out.
My eyes were drawn back to the bed, currently strewn with a pair of jeans, shirts and the boardshorts he’d worn to the beach yesterday. The sheets and cover, however, were neatly folded, almost with military precision. I shivered as I imagined Donald ‘teaching’ his son how to do that.
Sebastian cleared away the clothes hurriedly, tossing them onto a small, wooden chair that was festooned with tshirts.
“It’s pretty small,” he said, sounding embarrassed.
“It’s very you,” I said, watching him throw more clothes on the chair. I turned to examine some of his books. I always thought you could learn a lot about a person by the kind of books they had on their shelves. David didn’t have any books; he only read the newspaper and occasionally medical journals.
Sebastian had a whole shelf of Conrad, several Allan Quatermain paperbacks, Jack London’s The Road, countless travel books, and The Red Horse by Corti in translation caught my eye.
“Wait, what’s this?” I pulled out a heavy book, bound in cloth, and ran my fingers over the cover. I stared at him in disbelief. “You still have this?”
He nodded, his face serious.
I flicked through the pages depicting Hansel and Gretel, Rumpelstiltskin, Rapunzel … all the gruesome stories from the Brothers Grimm.
I turned to the frontispiece, knowing what I’d see,
To Sebastian, from Caroline.
And a date, nine years in the past.
“You kept it.”
“Of course,” he said simply. “You gave it to me.”
I didn’t know what to feel, standing there with the evidence of his childhood in my hands, the grown man in front of me.
“It’s always been you, Caro.”
I continued to stare at the book, at my handwriting, evidence in black and white, of our innocent and childish friendship.
His voice became anxious.
“It doesn’t mean anything, Caro, not like that.”
But it did, to me at least. It had been a horrible mistake coming here.
“I think I’d better go now,” I said quietly.
“It’s just a book, Caro, just a damn book. Please don’t go!”
He grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to look at him.
“Caro! Stop it!” he said, almost roughly. “I was a kid: we were friends. That’s all. You haven’t done anything wrong.” He shook me, making me grab onto his arms. “I’m younger than you: so what?! It doesn’t mean anything.”
Suddenly my knees gave way and I sat down on the bed hard. I felt sick. I hadn’t eaten anything since the omelet I’d made earlier, and that had ended up on the gravel of the country club’s parking lot.
“Caro?”
“Could I have a glass of water, please?” My voice was shaky.
“Sure! Sure!”
I heard him running down the stairs. I put my head down and tried to breathe deeply.
He was back a moment later with a large tumbler of cold water. I took the glass from him and drank a few sips gratefully.
“Are you okay?” he said anxiously.
“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry. It was just…a bit…” Disturbing? Shocking? A devastating reminder?
My hands were still trembling and I was in danger of tipping the rest of the water onto his pillows. He took the glass from my hands and placed it on the tiny bedside table.
“Come and lie down with me,” he said, tugging gently on my hand. “Just lie with me. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want, you know that.”
He pulled me down and held me in his arms, softly stroking my hair. We lay there peacefully. Somewhere in the room I could hear a clock ticking—my life was passing with every second.
He continued to soothe me, kissing my hair, stroking my back and my arms, threading his long legs through mine.
“Do you want to hear a bedtime story?” he said, quiet humor in his voice.
“Not funny,” I muttered into his chest.
He laughed gently. “You’ll like this one. It starts with a girl and a boy, a motorcycle and a full tank of gas.”
“Very romantic.”
“Told you you’d like it.”
“Well, the boy says to the girl, ‘Hey, baby, let’s go see the world.’ And do you know what the girl says?”
“‘I’m washing my hair’?”
“Ha! No, not quite. She says, ‘Let’s go see Italy because the whole world starts there’.”
“She sounds like an idiot.”
“Hey! This is my bedtime story.”
“Okay, I’ll be quiet.”
“Is that even possible?”
I punched him lightly on the arm and he laughed.
“Okay, so the boy says, ‘I’ve got an idea. Let’s fly to Switzerland…’”
“On the motorcycle? Because I should explain to you…”
He put his hand over my mouth, so I kissed the palm and snuggled in a bit more.
“‘Let’s fly to Switzerland, drive over the Alps and then we’ll go to Milano and see Il Trovatore at La Scala’.”
“That’s the opera where everyone ends up dying.”
“You said you’d be quiet.”
“Sorry.”
“So, then they stay at this amazing hotel where they have breakfast in bed, served on silver plates…”
“And they scappati in the morning because they can’t pay the bill?”
“Yeah! Then they ride off on their trusty motorcycle and go to Verona, one of the most romantic cities in the world…”
“It’s not romantic—that’s where Romeo poisons himself and Juliet stabs herself to death.”
“Shh! Then they drive down the spine of Italy, stopping to eat pasta…and have a lot of sex…”
“This story is NC-17.”
“Yeah, that’s because it’s my bedtime story. Then they ride to Salerno and take this little mountain road to a tiny village called Capezzano Inferiore and they meet all these wonderful, crazy people who turn out to be cousins and aunts and uncles of the girl, because she’s kinda crazy, too…”
“And then what?”
“They live happily ever after.”
I sighed. “Okay, that was a pretty good story after all.”
“Told you you’d like it.”
I felt very comfortable lying in his arms and my attack of guilt and disgust was slowly passing.
He didn’t speak after that and neither did I. We drifted to sleep, wound around each other.
A loud crash woke me suddenly. I sat up, disoriented and panic-stricken in the darkened room.
“Oh, fuck. Mom’s home,” said Sebastian sullenly. “Are you okay, Caro? Don’t sweat it; she won’t come up here.”
My heart was pounding; it was so loud I felt certain he must be able to hear it knocking against my ribs.
“Are you sure? Is your door locked?”
“I haven’t got a lock—I put the chair up against it when I want some privacy.”
I couldn’t believe how casual he sounded. I almost leapt out of my skin when he reached out to stroke my hair.
“I’ll go see if she’s passed out,” he said, reading my mood.
I nodded, nervously twisting my wedding ring around my finger.
He frowned, then rolled off the bed and gently opened his bedroom door. He was gone for less than a minute while I waited anxiously.
“She’s out cold—like I said. No problem.”
He pulled the chair up against the door, letting all the clothes slide off into a heap, then wedged its wooden back tightly under the handle.
He turned slowly, staring down at me.
From the look on his face, I guessed he wanted to cash in the rain check on the make-out session I’d promised him. I definitely wasn’t on the same page; the adrenaline rush caused by Estelle’s noisy return had freaked me out.
I pulled my cell phone out of my jeans pocket and flipped it over to check the time: it was after 1 AM.
“It’s late,” I whispered. “I should get back.”
“Stay. Please.”
He sat down next to me again and ran the tips of his fingers down my arm.
“We don’t know when we’ll have another night together,” he said persuasively, kissing my shoulder. “What difference does it make if you go now or in a few hours?”
When he didn’t meet any resistance, he pushed me gently back onto his bed and used his body to press me into the thin mattress. I could feel that he was already aroused. Boy, it didn’t take much. I still felt shaken, but at the same time it thrilled me that I could make him feel that way, make his body respond that way.
“Stay,” he whispered as he ran his tongue up my neck and tugged at my ear lobe with his teeth.
His right hand rode up under my t-shirt and cupped my breast, circling his thumb over my nipple. “Please stay.”
For that moment, his touch pushed away all my concerns, all the dull considerations of a rational mind and I wrapped my hands around his neck to pull him closer.
My tongue swept into his mouth and I raked my nails down his back, making him cry out.
“Ssh, you have to be quiet, tesoro,” I reminded him.
I tugged on the hem of his t-shirt and he immediately yanked it over his head, throwing it across the room. Mine soon followed and the cold metal of his pants button pressed into my belly making me shiver.
I lay on my side so he could unhook my bra; this time he didn’t fumble—within seconds it had joined my t-shirt on the growing heap. In fact, there wasn’t any floor space that wasn’t littered with clothes, his and mine.
He knelt up to watch me as I undid my zipper and shimmied out of my jeans and panties. He ran his hands down my body and then slid his fingers back up along my inner thighs. I closed my eyes and sighed deeply with pleasure and desire.
His body hovered over mine again and I enjoyed the rough feel of his denim against my bare flesh. I pulled his waistband toward me and slipped my hands inside, running my hands over his fine, sculpted ass. A tremor ran through him and he leaned down to kiss me again.
Hastily I unzipped his jeans, pushing them down over his hips. When he sat up to kick off his pants, I reached up to run the nail of my index finger from his chest to his stomach, watching the faint white mark I left behind quickly fade. His eyes fluttered closed and he sucked in a deep breath as his body quivered.
“Now you’ve got me here,” I said teasingly, “what are you going to do with me?”
His eyes opened wide with surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Well, what do you want to do?”
“I want to make love to you,” he said, sounding confused.
I laughed gently. “Yes, I can see that! But will you be on top, or shall I be on top, or maybe you’d like to do it from behind again? Or perhaps I should let my mouth do the talking? You choose.”
He licked his lips as he hesitated, his eyes blazing.
“From behind,” he whispered.
“Your wish is my command.”
I knelt up on the bed and, with deliberate slowness, turned around and sank to all fours. Then I glanced at him over my shoulder, flicking my hair out of my eyes.
I heard him suck in a deep breath and the springs of the bed protested loudly as he climbed up the mattress. He knelt behind me, holding my hip with one hand and positioning himself with the other. He sank into me slowly and groaned loudly.
“Fuck! Oh, fuck!”
I pushed my hips back toward him and his whole body convulsed.
I could tell he was trying to control himself, to move slowly, but his body was winning the battle over his mind. I wasn’t even trying for control. I wanted all of him. Now.
I ground back against him again and Sebastian lost it completely, gripping my hips with both hands and pounding into me. The bedsprings squeaked loudly with every thrust. A breathless giggle escaped me—it couldn’t have been more obvious what we were doing if there had been a neon sign over his door saying, ‘sex in progress: do not enter’. Although I was rather enjoying the entering. And exiting. And entering.
His hand moved to my sweet spot the way I’d shown him before, and, at that point, I lost all cogent thought as exquisite and uncontrollable sensation lanced through me. He’d gotten so good at finding my weak spots: mentally and physically. He was a hell of a fine student. I let my elbows fold, taking our combined weight on my forearms, so I could sink my face into his pillow, attempting to muffle my increasingly loud moans. Between us, we were making enough noise to wake the dead—luckily not enough to wake Estelle.
I felt Sebastian shudder into me with one last, powerful thrust—he gasped, biting back a mangled sound that could have been my name.
We sank down and lay full length on his narrow bed together. After a moment, he shifted onto his side and pulled me with him so my back was half-resting on his chest.
“That was…fuck, Caro! I didn’t know…”
He paused.
“Didn’t know what, tesoro?” I asked, still breathless.
“Nothing.”
He sounded embarrassed.
“Go on. I’m curious now.” I stopped and shook my head. “Sorry…I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
“Doing what?”
“Forcing you to speak when you don’t want to. Sorry.”
“Fuck! Don’t be sorry, Caro. I was just…okay, but don’t get mad at me. I just didn’t know girls really liked it like that.”
For a moment I was taken aback and then I started to laugh. “What? You thought only porn stars liked it from behind…doggy style?”
“Well, yeah!” he sounded rather shocked.
I turned around awkwardly in the narrow bed so I could look at him. I stroked his face, but I couldn’t stop grinning.
“Sebastian, women like sex just as much as men…if it’s good.”
He tried to smile but still looked uncertain, his forehead creasing with worry.
“Am I…?”
He bit his lip.
I knew what he was trying to ask me.
“Yes, you’re good. In fact I’d say you’re amazing: in so many ways.” I didn’t mean to tease him—well, maybe just a little. He was just so unbelievably sweet. “Besides,” I continued, “the whole orgasm thing is a clue that the woman is really enjoying it. In case you were wondering.”
“Yeah, I was. Kind of. I mean, it always feels amazing with you, but I wasn’t sure if you thought so, too.”
“Well, I do. So stop worrying.” I considered for a moment. “I could make score cards if you like: grade you on required elements, presentation, and technical merit—like in ice skating.”
He laughed. “Okay! So how did that score?”
“Three sixes.”
He didn’t reply for a moment, then said quietly, his tone hurt, “Only six?”
I nearly choked, I was laughing so hard. “The score is out of six!”
He laughed, too, but the sound was a little embarrassed. “Oh, okay then.”
He reached down and pulled a sheet up to my shoulders. I was warm and comfortable in his little bed and could easily have fallen asleep.
When I felt my eyes closing I nudged his chin with my nose. “I should go now. It’ll be getting light soon.”
He pulled me tighter. “Five more minutes.”
“Okay, but I’m going to count: 300, 299, 298…”
“Okay, okay! I’m moving.”
He pulled back the sheet and shivered slightly. He knelt down, fumbling around on the floor trying to find our clothes.
“Hey, can I keep your bra?”
“Excuse me?”
“I haven’t got anything of yours, Caro, please!”
“Sebastian!” I shook my head in disbelief.
“Please, Caro!”
“Fine! But you owe me, Hunter. That’s the second bra that’s gone missing in action on your watch.”
He grinned and threw my t-shirt at me.
When we were both dressed, he pulled open the door and we tiptoed down the stairs. Well, I tiptoed; he walked normally, glancing at me and shaking his head like I was a little crazy. I’d never snuck out of a boy’s bedroom before—it was more fun than I’d imagined.
Once we were out of the confines of the house and in the yard, I began to breathe a little more easily. Sebastian insisted on rolling the water barrel over to the fence to make it easier for me to climb over.
There was the faintest hint of gray light in the east, and the air was cool and scented with pine.
We leaned against the car, holding each other before the inevitable division that always came.
“Your buzz-cut is growing out,” I said, absentmindedly running my fingers through his hair.
“Yeah, I guess.”
It was clear his mind was elsewhere. “Can I come over tomorrow morning before work?”
“It is tomorrow,” I reminded him.
“Can I?”
“I guess so, but let me text you.” I frowned when it occurred to me that I had to face David now—or at some point soon. “Just in case.”
He sighed. “Okay. Love you, Caro.”
I hugged him more tightly then let him go. “I’ll see you later.”
“We’re always saying goodbye. I hate it, Caro.”
“It won’t be for much longer,” I said, with as much conviction as I could muster.
Getting in my car and driving away from him was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.
A few minutes later I was home—or rather, at the house where my soon-to-be-ex-husband slept. I certainly hoped he was asleep as I crept through the back door.
But then I froze. From the kitchen I could see a leg hanging off the end of the couch; it was clad in dress uniform.
Shit!
I took off my shoes and slunk past him barefoot, hardly daring to breathe. His snoring remained deep and regular, so when I reached the top of the stairs without incident, I gasped, feeling faint with relief.
Glancing into our…his bedroom, I noticed that the bed hadn’t been slept in. He’d come home so drunk he’d never even made it up the stairs.
Just like Estelle.
The clock on my bedside table informed me that it was 6 AM; I still had an hour before the alarm. I peeled off my t-shirt and jeans and slid under the cold sheets. I missed Sebastian’s warm body next to mine and couldn’t relax; instead of sleeping, I found myself staring dry-eyed at the ceiling for the best part of an hour.
Five minutes before the alarm was due, I gave up and headed for the shower. The hot water soothed and revived me, and then I spent a few minutes rubbing in moisturizer and body lotion. I’d better start looking after my skin more carefully if I was going to have a boyfriend who was so much younger than I was. It didn’t seem likely that a bit of palm oil could help enough, but I was prepared to try pretty much anything—anything that I could afford—which wasn’t saying a lot.
As I stared in the mirror, examining the fine lines around my eyes and searching for any gray hairs, I noticed a small, oval bruise above my left breast. Oh, my God! A hickey! I hadn’t had one of those in years! Well, make that over a decade. In fact I wasn’t completely sure that I’d ever had one. What was that boy’s name who’d asked me out the semester before I met David? Kevin? Colin? I remembered he’d tried to make out with me in the movie theatre, but I’d been more interested in watching the movie.
I made a mental note to remind Sebastian that biting was out until we’d got to New York. Pity.
When I’d finished drying my hair with the towel, I laid out David’s uniform for work. I hoped it would avoid, or at least delay, the next fight for as long as possible. Needs must.
He was just beginning to stir when I started making breakfast. I banged around the kitchen as loudly as possible, taking out some of my frustration on the frying pan and kitchen sink, feeling his whiskey-soured eyes glaring at me balefully.
“Good morning, David. Are you feeling up to some breakfast?” I asked breezily.
“Just coffee,” he said sulkily, then added, “Thank you.”
I nearly dropped the plate I was carrying, staring at him in disbelief. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d thanked me for anything. I wondered what had brought on that outbreak of civility. It was too weird. Still, it was better than being snarled at, which was usually how he behaved when he was hungover. Wonders would never cease.
The polite entente was fairly short-lived. He left the house without speaking to me again, for which I was inordinately grateful.
The sun had broken through a layer of thin cloud and the gloom of San Diego in June was promising to be another glorious day. My heart felt curiously light—and I knew what would be perfect. I texted Sebastian immediately, knowing he was waiting to hear from me.
* Park in 20? Bring your boardshorts! *
His reply made me laugh.
* Isn’t it bedtime? *
* No! 20 mins? *
* ok :) *
I changed into my bikini and pulled on a pair of shorts and strappy t-shirt, then ran downstairs to make an enormous picnic. I knew he wouldn’t have gotten himself any breakfast or, even if he had, he’d still be starving by lunchtime.
As an afterthought I picked up my laptop and notebook and tossed them in the trunk of the car. I still had some notes to type up and, more than ever, I needed the money from the articles that City Beat was prepared to pay me for. Besides, now I had a membership to the country club, I may as well use it. Of course, there were also the ancillary benefits of the locker room to be considered; if it happened to be empty again, well, who knew what might happen.
Sebastian was sitting on the curb in his usual place, my dear sweet punk.
“We’re going surfing?”
The hope and surprise were equally evident in his voice.
“Why not? It’s a beautiful day. Maybe you can teach me some more moves.”
“I liked the moves you taught me last night.”
“Sebastian!”
He shrugged. “It’s true.”
“Well, maybe. We’ll have to see if that locker room is free later.”
He groaned. “Oh, man, that was hot!”
I couldn’t disagree with that assessment.
We drove with the windows down and Sebastian chose another jazz station to listen to. I was fairly sure that his interest in opera was just to please me. It was really rather cute.
I parked next to the same surf shack just north of La Jolla. It was aptly named, being so ramshackle, it looked as if it might tip over the cliff with the faintest gust of breeze.
The owner recognized us immediately—either that or he used the same patter on everyone.
“Hey, sugar, long time no see! You want to rent another board?”
“Yes, please,” I said politely, elbowing Sebastian in the ribs as he scowled at the man. “And two shorties.”
“I’m good,” muttered Sebastian. “Just a shortie for her.”
“Pity,” said the owner, sizing me up, “I bet you look great in a bikini.”
I paid quickly, leaving my car keys again as surety, and pushed Sebastian out of the shop before he decided to start something. The owner grinned at me and winked. When he slid me my change, I saw that he’d written his phone number on one of the bills.
Classy. Ugh.
What kind of guy hit on someone when they were with their boyfriend? You wouldn’t find a woman doing…and then I thought of Brenda. Yes, she was definitely the kind of woman who would do exactly that.
I wondered if it was worth keeping the surf shack man’s number to pass on to her; he was quite attractive in that so-laidback-he-was-almost-horizontal sort of way. And I knew for a fact she liked surfers. I really wished he hadn’t written his cell number on a ten dollar note. Oh, well, I’d just have to use it for a tip somewhere. A large tip.
Sebastian carried the heavy board down to the beach and swam out with me. I didn’t know how he could stand the water without a wetsuit—it felt cold to me. He just laughed and said he was used to it.
I wobbled about and fell off more times than I could count, but I also managed to get several rides where I rode the board all along the green water in front of the breaking wave. Sebastian was wonderfully encouraging and I felt very proud of myself.
We’d been playing in the surf for nearly an hour when a familiar looking van parked alongside my battered old Ford and Ches strolled down to the beach, his sleek, lightweight twin-tail thruster under one arm.
I nudged Sebastian and his happy expression vanished.
“Let’s go say hi,” I suggested.
He shrugged, but followed me as I caught a wave to the beach.
“Hi, Ches,” I said pleasantly, as I dragged my heavy board onto the sand.
“Hi, Mrs….Caroline,” he said, looking warily at Sebastian. “I didn’t know you could surf.”
“Sebastian is teaching me.”
“Yeah, we don’t spend all our time fucking,” Sebastian said aggressively, folding his arms across his chest.
I cringed and felt my cheeks redden. Apart from anything else, he was such a hypocrite.
Ches winced and fiddled with the leash on his board.
“I still have trouble making the turns,” I said, desperately trying to lighten the tense atmosphere.
“Yeah, well, you were looking pretty good out there,” muttered Ches.
“Why don’t you guys go have some fun; I’m ready for a rest. Sebastian, take my board.”
I thrust it toward him, giving him very little choice in the matter. He gazed at me mulishly then snatched up the board and paddled out.
Ches stared helplessly for a second, murmured something inaudible, and followed him. I watched for a while, hoping that they’d work it out somehow, then peeled off the wetsuit and stretched out on my beach towel. The sun was deliciously warm on my chilly skin and I was soon dozing peacefully, full of happy non-thoughts. Besides, I hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep lately.
I was woken abruptly by something very cold dripping on me. I squinted into the sun to see Sebastian grinning down at me. My heart lurched suddenly—it was so much like the first day we’d met. So much had happened since then: I was barely the same person. Was he?
At least Sebastian looked happier now.
“Hey, baby, did I wake you up?”
“Sort of—not really. Did you have fun?”
He shrugged. “It was okay. Waves aren’t great today. Wind’s onshore, so it’s pretty mushy. It was more fun with you.”
I shivered as he lay down next to me.
“Ugh! You’re all cold and clammy!”
“I could warm you up,” he said suggestively, running his hand across my stomach and leaning over me.
I pushed him off.
“Not here!”
I glanced up to see an embarrassed Ches desperately trying to find something else to look at other than his best friend getting it on with a married woman.
“Behave!” I said severely, frowning at Sebastian.
He just grinned at me with the same irritating air of insouciance. God! He could be infuriating.
I sat up and flicked his wrist away as he tried to lay a possessive hand on my thigh. I reached into my bag and pulled on my t-shirt. I thought Ches might feel slightly more comfortable if I was wearing a few more clothes, and there was that damn hickey, too. In truth, Ches’s level of comfort mostly depended on whether or not his friend would quit behaving like an ass.
“Ches, would you like some sandwiches? I’ve made more than enough.”
“Yeah, that would be great, Caroline,” he replied quietly.
His eyes flickered nervously to Sebastian who was acting like a sulky teenager. Okay, maybe he wasn’t acting—he was a sulky teenager. I sighed. He was spoiling our lovely day: it wasn’t Ches’s fault that he’d turned up at the same beach as us. We should just be thankful it was Ches and not any other of Sebastian’s surfing buddies.
Over lunch, relations began to thaw. Sebastian stopped trying to show off, and Ches began to relax. Food was proving to be a universal panacea for men’s ill tempers. I was relieved—the last thing I wanted to do was come between Sebastian and his best friend. And, if things went badly, he’d need all the friends he could get. I shivered at the thought.
After our increasingly enjoyable picnic, Sebastian insisted on returning my board and shortie to the surf shack, and I insisted that he ride to the country club in the van with Ches.
“I’ll see you there soon enough,” I pointed out, cutting off his protest. “Please, tesoro!”
He kissed me hungrily and this time I knew it wasn’t an act. When we could bear to stop, he leaned his forehead against mine.
“Bye, Caro,” he said softly.
I kissed him on the lips and watched him climb into Ches’s van.
He was right about one thing—we were always saying goodbye.
When I arrived at the country club, my grim mood turned into something much darker. A girl in a very skimpy bikini was lying on a sun lounger by the pool.
Brenda fucking Wiseman.