Dak
Things didn’t go so well at Trace’s house last night. I admit I could have handled it better. While I wait onboard for the Tern to be fueled up, I watch her down the beach pulling the last of the kayaks out of the water and helping to strap them back up on the trailer hitch behind the van. I can’t get last night out of my mind. I can’t get Trace out of my mind.
Somehow she’s become the girl of my dreams. She’s smart, strong, beautiful, challenging. I don’t even know how it happened. I wasn’t looking for a dream girl. I thought I already had my dream girl and lost her when I lost Abbey. The weird thing is, when I close my eyes, the only dreamy images filling my thoughts are of Trace. How did that happen? I didn’t think I would ever feel this way again and what’s more, I didn’t think I wanted to.
Kissing her last night almost put me into cardiac arrest. When she returned my kiss, I struggled to hold myself back. When she pulled away from me, I was so disappointed I let my hurt pride get the better of me. I behaved like an idiot, acting like I couldn’t care less and rubbing in her face my suave idea of a relationship is to tie up the closest willing puck bunny down for a quick fuck.
It’s no secret, I suppose. I always make it clear before I hook up with anyone. I don’t need the complications of any chick getting any warm and fuzzy ideas about a relationship. So far, there have been no complaints from any of the ladies, and we’re on the same page. Except for Trace. She is not on the same page. Truth? I’m glad she’s not.
When I got back to the house last night the party was still in full swing. I went straight to my room and locked the door. All I could think about as I tossed and turned in my bed was Trace and how she makes me feel. The need for getting myself off while I pictured her beautiful eyes giving me a longing gaze and her naked body underneath me was overwhelming. And fuck, as much as I’m trying to resist it, I want the real thing, not some horny trip to the spank bank.
She said she recently came out of a bad relationship, which means I should back off. She’s not a casual fuck girl and I’m not interested in another committed relationship, not because I think being with the right woman is a bad thing. It can be a good thing…for some guys. But not me. I’m done with that shit.
The courage to be responsible for someone’s life and happiness again is something I lack in a big way. In the end, being responsible for someone else’s life and happiness is what a real relationship is all about. Being with the one special person you want feels great…most of the time. However, if something goes wrong, it can be decimating for both people. Once you cross the relationship line, both people possess the power to destroy each other. I know what it’s like to be bulldozed by love. I can’t risk it again. Fuck. Did I already cross the line by kissing her the way I did? Because she’s all I think about, all I see when I close my eyes. I don’t get this.
I thought I loved Abbey with all my heart. I thought we would be together for the rest of our lives. I guess we were. I just didn’t know the rest of Abbey’s life would be so short. But if all those emotions for Abbey were real, how can I be feeling what I’m feeling for Trace now? She’s so different than Abbey. I’m consumed by the guilty feeling that if Abbey had lived, in time I might’ve fallen out of love with her and destroyed her in a different way.
We were both young. I’m not exactly ancient now, but three or four years in time and experience in college can make a world of difference. I’m a different guy than I was when I was a freshman, learned a lot about life and love. That doesn’t mean I know for sure what the future holds and I don’t want to do anything to Trace to hurt her somewhere down the road. She deserves way better than me.
See what I mean about relationships? I’m a perfect example. A few months ago, I had figured out how to live my life on my terms: hockey, school, surfing, the casual hook up with the next consenting hot girl to come my way. Now I’m a fucked up mess trying to figure out what I’m feeling for Trace. She deserves more than this guarded, emotional wreck.
“Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
Trace’s frustrated tone jolts me out of my thoughts. I was so lost in my inner turmoil I didn’t even hear her come aboard.
“You’re late, Bambi.” I return her annoyed tone, because I can’t let her hear the anguish in my voice.
“By five minutes.” She checks the IWatch on her wrist and rolls her eyes.
“Ten,” I answer without looking up from my work of rolling up the mooring lines, because when I look at her, I want her. It’s that simple. “I logged in our time at the research center. We’ve got the Tern till six o’clock. The Coast Guard has weather alerts for thunderstorms out for later tonight. They want us back in by then. It should give us enough time to get the fifteen samples we need.”
“Cutting it right down to the wire, though. The sky is clear and beautiful right now. It was perfect weather for the tour earlier, too bad you couldn’t make it. Maybe another time before the season’s over.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” I mumble and feign checking the marine radio. I already checked it when I first got on the boat. She’s actually making an effort to be pleasant after the bullshit way I treated her last night, even inviting me on one of her tours. No fucking way am I getting in a kayak with her on the ocean, not after Abbey’s accident.
“We need about five hours, so we should get this show on the road,” she states.
I don’t think she noticed the hesitation in my voice. Even though I’m trying not to, I give her a sideways glance. Dammit. I can’t help myself.
She’s checking the winches for the CTD sensors, flow bottles, and messengers. The research vessel is loaded with all kinds of Sea Bird electronic equipment, much more than we’ll need for this project. Beyond the sensations coursing through me for Trace, being on this boat surrounded by the state of the art gear gives me a sense of exhilaration.
I always loved being on the ocean for sports activities, but studying in a field which will help to save the ocean’s marine life and environment is even more fulfilling. Being on the ocean to conduct environmental research with the spitfire checking the equipment, right now, is even more satisfying than usual.
Her spandex shorts are hugging her ass and all I want to do is pull her into me and press into her back so she can feel what she does to me.
Not what we’re here for, dude.
Not to mention she would most likely punch me in the face. I’ve got to get my head on straight and focus on the lab assignment.
“Everything’s ready.” She gives me a thumbs up, unaware of both the mental and physical conflict raging inside of me.
“I’m going to head out toward Mount Desert Rock. You can drop the equipment after we get further out,” I call out to her over my shoulder from where I’m standing at the helm.
“Okay!” she yells back over the noise of the engine.
I point the bow out to sea in the direction of the lighthouse and wait until we’re out of the harbor before pushing up the throttle. Built in the same design as a fishing trawler, the Arctic Tern can cruise at about ten knots.
When we’re out in deep water, I glance back at Trace. She’s standing on the working deck looking out to sea. She’s wearing a white Save The Narwhal tank top. One more cock-enticing item to add to the ever-growing Awesome Things About Trace Hayward list, her incredible love of the ocean and marine life. She wears these statement shirts to class every day, and on her they’re like living works-of-art advertisements to save the ecology of our oceans.
It’s like the sun is radiating a circle of light around her. It could be the golden wisps of hair escaping her ponytail and glowing around her face, or the spray of sea mist glistening on her skin, or my mind imagining a cosmic aura encircling her, I don’t know. I only know she’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. Christ. When did I become this poetic mush head?
She turns and catches me watching her. Although I’m expecting her to give me one of her annoyed smirks, instead she smiles, lighting up her face and making her eyes pinch so much I don’t know how she can see. With it, all my confusion and inner turmoil slide away and I’m filled with a sense of contentment like this is all perfect. I’m in the perfect place with the perfect person. The thought occurs to me I could spend forever doing this kind of stuff with her. Damn. I’m turning into a girl. It’s definitely time for a night out with the guys. Beer and babes are our cure for almost anything.
“It’s so beautiful. Isn’t it?” Trace calls out to me.
I come out of my reverie. “Yes. Yes, it is,” I say under my breath, soaking in the vision of the girl I want so bad it hurts.
When we get within a few miles of Mount Desert Rock I put the engine in neutral and give Trace the go ahead to drop the equipment. She’s already got the bottles and messengers clipped on the winch line. She drops the CTD first so we can measure water temperature, salinity, and density, and then she flips the switch to lower the flow bottles. I can’t take my eyes off her. It’s crazy. I get an unusual pleasure merely watching her. Every time those sparkling green eyes come back to me I’m undone.
If I don’t stop adoring her with my eyes, she’s going to think I’m some kind of creepy perv. The way she moves around the deck and operates the equipment like an expert, like she’s done this a million times before, it’s fucking hot. Everything she does is fucking hot, even the way she handles scientific equipment.
The bottles are lined up down the length of the winch and they drop to various depths. Trace keeps one hand on the line so she can feel the tug each time a bottle closes and the messenger moves down the line to another bottle. Then she reverses the winch line and the bottles come up out of the water. We repeat this process several times, moving to different places so we can collect samples from various areas
Throughout the tedious job of collecting samples and replacing the bottles, I can’t keep my mind off what happened yesterday. I’ve never felt anything like the way the brief kiss had me on fire. What do I do with these sensations? She made it clear she’s not into casual sex. And I’m glad she’s not. I don’t think I could handle it if I knew she was hooking up with random guys. Big double standard, I know. Though I don’t hold any claim to her at all I don’t want to think of her with another guy. It’s so fucked up.
I can’t stop thinking about the dickhead in her past, the bad relationship dick. It makes me sick I might’ve added to her troubles last night. She doesn’t need another douchebag, guy messing with her body and mind. I know the best thing to do is back off. Trace deserves way more than a fuck and run.
Lost in my inner chaos, I didn’t watch the time or notice the dark, fast moving clouds rolling in, and the crackle of the VHS radio calling us startles me.
“Wow. Where did those come from?” Trace asks. She was so engrossed in pouring the samples into amber sample bottles she didn’t notice the darkening sky either until she hears the hiss of the radio and glances up.
“Artic Tern, this is the Bernard Research Center, over.” Before I can make it back to the helm the call comes over the radio again. “Artic Tern, this is the Bernard Research Center, over.”
“Bernard Research Center, this is the Artic Tern, over.”
“Hey, Dak. This is Erik at the center, over.”
“Hey, man. What’s up buddy? Over.”
“Looks like we misinterpreted the weather, dude. The Coast Guard says there’s a derecho blowing in and it’s coming in fast. Over.”
“A derecho? It’s not the right time of year for one and even if it was, it’s unusual for this part of Maine. What’s going on? Over.”
“Apparently the thunderstorm they were tracking has turned into a bunch of severe thunderstorms moving together. They’re wreaking havoc further down the coast with heavy rains, flash floods, and high force winds. Over.”
Fuck. I try not to let Trace see the panic in my eyes, but she can already read me like a book.
She comes into the cabin. “What’s wrong?”
I close my eyes. Christ. This can’t be happening again. I can’t be risking another woman’s life in a boat. Dak Andersen, fucking dipshit at your service.
“Artic Tern, are you there? Over.”
“Yeah…yes, Erik, I’m here. Over.” I put one finger up to tell Trace to wait until we hear what instructions the Coast Guard has given the Research Center regarding vessels out on the water.
“The bad news is, the storm is moving in fast. Really fast. You guys are the only ones still out on the water and they don’t think you should try getting back in until the storm passes. Good news is, based on your location, you’re close enough to the Rock to head there and hunker down. Over.”
“The Rock? Dude, that’s in the middle of open water. Will it be safe? And for how long? Over?” I’m watching Trace the whole time and she doesn’t even blink at the news from Erik. She may be the bravest person I know. On the other hand, I’m not feeling quite so brave. I’m not worried for myself, but I can’t let anything happen to her. Although, I’m sure if it came down to it, she could probably rescue my ass and hers if she needed to.
“It could be a couple of hours, it could be all night. It’s cool, though. The main house was rebuilt and reinforced for this kind of weather. You’ll be okay and the generator will keep you on limited power if the solar power goes out. The food, water, and firewood supplies are all stocked because the Marine Life Research Center crew is scheduled to be there on Monday. You’ll be all set if you need to stay the night. It’s all good, dude. You got the codes for the door locks? Over.”
“I got them before we went out. Over.” The electronic keypads on the doors for the facilities at the Rock are reset every week. It prevents random people out for a day of boating from wandering into the house or lab. Whenever students or researchers need to use the facilities, they’re given the codes.
“Okay then, you should be all set. I’ll keep channel seventy-one open for you. Let us know when you make it to the Rock. We’ll be here all night if you need us. Over.”
“Will do. We’re heading over there now. Thanks, man. Arctic Tern, out.”
“Bernard Research Center, out.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I lost track of the time and wasn’t paying attention to the weather. It’s such a bullshit rookie mistake,” I say after replacing the handset and pushing the throttle to full speed. I’ve got to get her out of this damn boat ASAP, even if the only place I can take her is a massive rock island in open water. Erik was right though. They planned for this scenario when rebuilding the research facilities on the island. We’ll be much safer there than on a boat until the storm blows over.
“No need to apologize. I wasn’t paying attention either.”
“Wow. You’re not even going to call me jackass or asshole or anything? I’m kind of missing your sugary names for me.” I figure a little teasing will help take her mind off of the shit situation I got us into.
“Very funny. I’m sure we’ll be fine on the island and we can use the lab there to do our analysis. We’ll be too preoccupied to worry about the storm. No worries, jackass.” She gives me a sweet little grin after adding the name I’m getting so used to hearing, I may start answering to it instead of Dak.
“There it is.” I smack my hand on the helm and smile. “You’re such a sweet little thing.”
The memory of her scent when we kissed last night fills my senses, a mixture of coconut and pineapple, the intoxicating scent of a fragrant, tropical garden. I’d love a chance to lick every inch of her sweetness.
Focus, dude. Your negligent, horny thoughts already put you in this dangerous predicament.
Trace doesn’t seem one bit concerned about the precarious situation we’re in. There’s a good possibility I’m falling for Super Woman.
“I guess nothing shakes you up, huh, Bambi?”
Except me standing stark naked in front of you.
Huh. I kind of like the idea I might be the only thing that can make her tremble. Oh for Chrissakes! Even when our lives are in imminent danger I can’t keep my mind off my dick.
Her mood darkens and a worried expression crosses her face. “Plenty of things scare me,” she says quietly and drops her gaze to her feet.
Great. I’m such an asshole. I succeeded in upsetting her yet again.
“I…I’m sorry. Look, the boathouse is straight ahead.” I point toward the lighthouse. Its comforting beacon flashes every fifteen seconds. “We’ll be there soon, and the wind hasn’t even kicked up yet. We’ll be safe there until it blows over.”
I hope.