Beyond the Sea (17 page)

“Ok.” Melia smiled. “Your parents won’t care?”

“They’re not home; they are at a church retreat and won’t be back until Sunday. You still want to come over?”

 
She agreed and rambled about constellations and the ocean the whole way to Peter’s. Peter held her hand and listened, impressed with her knowledge of the stars. The cool air in her face seemed to sober her up, and by the time Peter parked in the driveway, Melia said, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“What? You didn’t embarrass me at all.”

“But you said I’m drunk.”

He laughed. “You are, but you’re not embarrassing.”

“Ok, good. Because I wouldn’t want to do that.”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t. Come on, let’s get inside. I’m freezing.”

Melia touched his arm; his skin was cold. “Me too,” she lied.

Peter held her hand, fumbling with his keys as he tried to open the front door. Before he pushed the door open, Melia grabbed him and kissed him. Pleased with her passion, Peter dropped the keys and picked her up. Melia’s legs found their way around Peter’s waist. After a breathtaking minute, Melia reached behind her and pushed the door open. Taking her cue, Peter released his grip so they could go inside.

“I had fun tonight,” Melia told Peter as they walked up the stairs into Peter’s room.

“Me too,” he agreed, opening his bedroom door. He was wet and sandy and he hadn’t taken his shoes off. Oh well, he’d clean it up later. He took his soaking wet shirt off and threw it in the wicker laundry basket.

Emotions mixing with alcohol, Melia felt a red hot flash of desire when she saw Peter shirtless. She unzipped her dress.

And then they were kissing again. Peter slid a skinny strap over Melia’s shoulder. She smiled and effortlessly pulled the dress off. Her desire intensified when she saw the predilection in Peter’s eyes of seeing her undressed.

“You are beautiful,” he breathed. She advanced and grabbed him by the waist. Their bodies tangled. Melia unbuttoned Peter’s pants. She pulled them down and he stepped out of them. They made their way to the bed, Melia falling on top of Peter.

“Peter,” she moaned when he kissed her neck. He sat up, wrapped his arms around her and flipped her over. She fastened her legs around his waist, running her fingernails over his back. He kissed her all over. When it seemed she couldn’t take anymore, Melia tugged on Peter’s boxers.

He hesitated.

Melia froze.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“I-I don’t—” he couldn’t finish his own sentence.

“You don’t want me?” Melia sounded hurt, confused, crushed all at once.

“I do,” Peter said, weakening and kissing her again.

“I can tell,” she told him, placing her hand between his legs. He melted into her touch.

“No, Melia, this is wrong. You-you’re drunk.”

“So?”

“I don’t want our first—I don’t want you to regret this tomorrow.”

“I won’t, Peter, I promise. I just…need you.”

How could he resist that? No. He cared too much to let Melia do this.

“This isn’t right,” he said, mostly to himself. With one final look at Melia’s breasts, barely covered in black lace, he pushed himself up and off her. “Why don’t you take a shower?” he suggested, because a cold shower was what he needed.

“Ok,” she agreed after a minute.

Regretfully, Peter put his feet on the floor. “There are towels under the sink,” he said quickly and hurried into the bathroom down the hall. Decorated in Disney characters to suit Ava and Adam’s liking, this bathroom was spotless since his mother cleaned it. Maybe he should have let Melia shower in here instead of his own and rarely cleaned shower. He thought about what had just happened as he yanked open the Toy Story shower curtain.

Melia picked up her dress and hung it on the towel rack in the bathroom. She grabbed a clean towel and set it on the sink. She turned the water on and, while it was warming up, she looked at herself in the mirror.

Her curls were a matted mess; her makeup had washed off, some of it settling heavily under her eyes. The black pearls matched her black lingerie and, despite the overall drowned rat look, Melia wasn’t displeased at her reflection. How had Peter been able to resist her? She had—as Jamie liked to call it—super mermaid powers of seduction. As she further undressed, she smiled. She was glad Peter stopped. She wasn’t ready and it would have been too soon to have sex with him.

The warm water was sobering. There was a time when Melia hated hot showers. Water wasn’t supposed to be warm. It was cool and refreshing. It took a year to get used to. She washed her hair thinking about how much she’d changed. It was unsettling, but necessary. She firmly believed that her personality was the same.

She winced when she recalled jumping into the ocean. Had anyone noticed she had been under the water for far too long? It was stupid. It was reckless. She couldn’t make that mistake again. She would be lucky, at best, if no one questioned her the next day. What would she say? It was too dark? How dark is too dark for humans? She’d have to ask Jamie.

And of course she thought about Peter. The way he looked at her, the way he listened, the way he kissed her. He really was something special, she thought. She knew beyond a doubt that he was attracted to her. Jamie had told her that looks can draw a man in but don’t keep him for long. Would he get over her? Did she want him to? Did she care?

”Yes,” she answered her last question aloud.

What would Peter think if say, six months down the road she revealed her true nature? Would he get mad? Should she tell him sooner? No, she should wait. Would he feel betrayed? Would he never speak to her again?

She sat down, absorbing the energy of the water. Who could she ask for advice? Edward was a human. And he loved her mother. But he had known from the start. If Nyneve wasn’t an Oceanid, he would be dead. Oh! Maybe she could set up a situation where she had to save Peter!

No.

She couldn’t intentionally hurt him. And she’d had the chance that night during the storm, but she hadn’t revealed herself. Why?

Because she didn’t think he would like her, she admitted to herself. And that thought terrified her.

Peter dried off and immediately realized he hadn’t brought any clothes to change into. Relieved to hear the water still running when he went back into his room, Peter quickly grabbed a pair of boxers and a white tee shirt. He was hungry, and figured Melia must be too, especially after how much she drank, so he went down to the kitchen to find something to eat.

The more he thought about it the better he felt. He had done the right thing, and, though he was embarrassed to admit it, he was proud of himself and his self control. Of course he wanted—so badly— to sleep with Melia; it’s not like he hadn’t thought about it. But there was something just too…too respectable about her.

But she was drunk, he reminded himself. As lame as it sounded, Peter wanted her more aware the first time they made love. And he would never tell a single living soul that he wanted such a thing. He grabbed a plateful of chocolate chip cookies, cups and two cans of Sprite, dumped the popcorn in a bowl, and loaded up a tray. Seeing the keys on the floor by the stairs reminded Peter he had left the top down on his car. He made a mad dash outside to take care of everything, and even grabbed Melia’s purse for her.

Melia was wrapped in a towel. Peter swallowed, trying not to ogle (or he was going to need another cold shower).

“I don’t have any clothes,” she said.

“Oh, of course.” He dropped the purse on the floor and set the tray down on the bed but had to move it to the dresser since Mocha loved popcorn and followed him upstairs. “What do you want to wear?” He opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of pajama pants.

“I don’t like being that covered up,” she admitted. Peter held up a pair of athletic shorts. She shook her head. “Too long.”

After Melia was dressed in blue boxers (which she shortened by rolling the waistband) and a Chargers tee, she and Peter tucked themselves under the covers, happily eating, talking about evolution. When they were done, Peter set the tray on the dresser.

“Do you want me to close the window?” he asked when a chilling breeze blew in.

“No, it feels wonderful!” Melia pulled the blankets around her shoulders. “I’ll keep you warm.”

“Well, in that case…” he said and raised his eyebrows, causing Melia to giggle. He turned off the light and joined her under the blankets. It was after four thirty and they were both exhausted. Melia rested her head on Peter’s firm chest.

“Goodnight, Peter,” she said, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Goodnight,” he whispered back and kissed her.

*

Peter hoped he could sneak out of bed without Melia noticing. Slowly, he exchanged a pillow for his body and slid out from underneath her. She exhaled heavily in her sleep and didn’t wake. Mocha had curled up at the foot of the bed. Taking advantage of the spot next to Melia, he lazily got up and cuddled next to her.
Weird,
Peter thought,
that dog hates everyone.
He tiptoed out of the room and into the kitchen.

Melia woke up to the clanging of pots and pans. It was only nine o’clock and she wasn’t used to that little amount of sleep. She wanted to roll over and go back to bed but her desire to find Peter was greater. She ran her fingers through her knotted hair before she saw her purse. Happy Peter was thoughtful enough to bring it inside. She smiled as she got out her brush.

“Morning,” she said to Peter.

He strode to her and gave her a hug. “Good morning. I hope you’re in the mood for pancakes.” He motioned to the mess on the kitchen counter. “I’m in the process of making them. Of course, it won’t be as good as the food you’re used to being served,” he joked.

“Oh, I love pancakes!” She put her hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Can you show me how to make them? I’ve never made pancakes before.”

Taken aback, Peter agreed. But who doesn’t know how to make pancakes?!

She couldn’t get it to flip right. Peter could tell she was a little frustrated. “Here,” he said with a chuckle. He stood behind her and put his hand around hers.

“It worked!” she cried, excited.

“Ok, now this one.” Peter guided her hand and successfully flipped another pancake. Melia was so engrossed in learning something new that her better-than-human ears didn’t pick up on the garage door opening. Peter was too preoccupied with Melia to react to the all too familiar sound.

“…just go straight up to bed, honey,” Peter’s mother’s voice floated through the hall. Peter jumped away from Melia. Melia froze, unsure of what to do. Her brain raced for an excuse to get Peter out of the trouble she knew he’d be in. She considered hiding, but it was too late.

Mrs. Anderson had already seen her.

She shrieked. Literally. Peter’s father rushed in, scooping Ava up, thinking something terrible had happened.

Without giving Peter a chance to even get one word in, she stomped into the kitchen. “Peter Anthony! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Now look: you’ve made me swear in front of the twins! Who is this-this
person
in my house?”

“Mom, calm down,” Peter said slowly, putting his hands up.

“I will not calm down! How dare you have sex in MY HOUSE!”

Mr. Anderson ushered the twins upstairs. Ava called ,“Hi Melia!” which made Sue even angrier.

“You think, just because we are out of town that you can bring girls over! Well, you are WRONG. I am more than disappointed in you! You are a disgrace! You are unholy! Sinner! How DARE you commit such sins under MY ROOF!”