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He’s not even mine to hold onto.

I keep burying away the thoughts in the hope that I can hold it together. My worry is interrupted as I feel him take a deep breath; my head gently rising up on his chest as he inhales.

Perhaps he is thinking the same thing too.

That he doesn’t want this day to end.

I’m far too scared to move my gaze towards his. I just relish in this moment as I lean into this toned chest, enjoying the security I feel wrapped in his arms. It’s just right.

"Excuse me Sir," I hear the captains voice fill our blissful air. "We are almost back to the wharf and I am letting you know as you requested."

I feel Jay’s arms further grip around me, until he is squeezing me into every part of his body. "Come, we need to move into the cabin," he whispers tenderly in my ear.

Noooo, I don’t want to let go.

My inner thoughts whine like a spoilt baby is being stripped of their favourite toy, but the rational part of my brain knows this is far too clingy behaviour considering I barely know him. I unwillingly lift my head from his chest, subtly inhaling his sweet masculine scent one last time. He shifts his weight to stand upright, but his hand that had previously been caressing my hair, moves to my warm cheek once more. As his palm cups me delicately, he leans down and plants a swift kiss on the top of my forehead. It stings beautifully. I shiver.

As he lowers his hand, he delicately drags his fingertips along the side of my face all the way down my neck, shoulder and arm, until his seductive touch reaches my wrist. He wraps his fingers around it and gently pulls so I follow him - sending my heart into a flutter like a giddy teenager. He leads me across the pine deck and I glance down at the navy blanket we had dined on for hours earlier. I sigh. We finally reach the main cabin where the captain had shown us through not long before and my eyes scan the room. The cabin floor is the same polished timber, with a black dense rug in the middle.  Around the edges of the room there are white leather style bench seats, curved seamlessly to flow with the oval shape of the walls. Just above them, the same dark tinted windows I visually remember when I was standing on the wharf earlier, so black in colour - you couldn’t see inside at all. Jay is standing motionless beside me, still gripping my wrist tightly. Securely.
Protectively.

Not my hand
,
my conscious notes to me.

No, not my hand
,
my own thought echoes back in annoyance.

We stand there stiff and silent; and a sudden image of our near perfect moment is in stark contrast to what is happening now. His body language is back to it closed off, intense manner and I immediately frown that the more open Jay has gone back into hiding. In a daze I find myself drawn to watch the wharf where we were docked at earlier. As it gradually comes closer and closer, and this amazing day, further and further away from me; I suddenly notice the swarms of people. My eyes begin to widen with horror as I see just how
many
people are waiting at the dock where our yacht is about to berth. I notice him reach for his aviators with his free hand, you know, the hand that
isn’t
gripping me so fiercely as I begin to process the amount of individuals waiting there.

Are they waiting there for him?!

For us?

I scan my eyes through the masses and right at the edge of the dock, at the very front there are half a dozen casually dressed men who oddly stood out to me. Some were wearing baseball caps, and others disguised beneath sunglasses, but one thing was common. They were all holding cameras. Huge. Lens. Cameras!

Paparazzi maybe?

I suddenly dismiss the word as soon as I think it, as the whole thing sounds too ridiculous for me to consider. But as I drift my gaze back toward Jay and his now tenser demeanour, to the sea of people waiting on the wharf, plus the men with the large cameras - it suddenly doesn’t seem so absurd. I am speechless. Scared.

How am I going to get through them?

I start to panic. The images spawn across the television earlier this morning start to replay in my anxious mind and I realise this isn’t a fantasy at all. This is his reality. My eyes dart around the cabin and look around the yacht for some kind of exit strategy. My instincts like always tell me to run away, that this is too intense for me to handle at the moment; but there is nowhere to go. Like he had teased earlier, I have nowhere to run. He lets go of my wrist as he strides cautiously toward the captain. I can’t hear what he is saying but the captain nods, seemingly agreeing with his request. The captain no sooner heads outside the yacht and onto the deck as I watch, unable to move, as Jay takes his place beside me once more; his firm grasp securely around my wrist. The sea of people start to scream out in unison, meshing all of their words together to create incoherent noise as soon as the captain hits the outer deck. Lights flash in his direction, as I notice the men holding the cameras triggering away relentlessly. The captain raises his arms in the air signalling them to be quiet, and also shielding his face from the continual barrage of light.

"Jay!"

I hear someone scream solo from the crowd, but I can’t make out who it was.

"Our guests were dropped off at an earlier dock and are no longer aboard. Please," he lies, signalling them to lower their onslaught. Realising he wasn’t their target, they temporarily oblige and the crowd lower their screeches. After a few minutes, the captain goes about his business on the deck, assumedly to try and sell his story.

What a drama.

The cameramen haven’t moved from their prime positions and are still lingering around the wharf. One seems to be on his phone, another one lighting up a cigarette. The twenty or so people have dispersed slowly, but still hover around the vicinity of our location. Jay still hasn’t moved or motioned anything to me since he took his place beside me; only staring rigidly at the scenes displayed outside the yacht and a dangerous air accompanies him. After a few more minutes, I nervously break the silence.

"How are we going to get out?" I whisper softly.

"We can't wait much longer. Our driver will be here soon," he responds, the previous spark so evident earlier has definitely been extinguished.

"What? Out there?" I ask shakily, nervous at the prospect of having to move through the people.

Holy shit!

I can’t do this.

He doesn’t answer me.

Obviously Pen, what a stupid question.

Of course we have to exit out there!

We are on a boat!

We still. Haven’t. Moved. A majority of the crowd has moved their way around the wharf but they are still within distance, and I can’t help but feel it would only take one to notice us before the rest came barrelling in. The thought alone terrifies me. I can see two photographers clearly, but they have moved to the other side of the dock - the opposite side of where we need to escape to. Just as I assess the people waiting for us I have no more time to prepare. I feel a gentle tug on my wrist and a brisk tone accompanying it.

"Let’s go."

He pulls firmly ensuring I follow him as I try to keep my body as close to his side as I can, praying he will shield me from all the fuss we may encounter. We reach the cabin deck and both simultaneously step our feet over the edge onto the wharf, before I start to hear it. Screaming. Yelling. High pitched and unyielding sounds, all tangling into overbearing noise. Not being able to take it, I close my eyes tightly and bury my head into his ribs. Matching his pace and keeping glued to his side allowing him to lead me through this overwhelming situation.

"Jay! Photo!"

"Hey what’s your ladies name?"

"What’s your name?!"

"Please miss photo!!"

"Ryker!"

I feel someone grab harshly at my shirt until I hear a faint rip.

What the fuck?!

“My shirt!” I squeak automatically as I feel Jay crush me to his side.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” he brutally snaps.

In my darkness, all I feel is his electric body against mine, the blistering noise and questions surrounding me are like a blur. A nightmare. That isn’t really happening. Our legs moving so fast now that my breath quickens with the rise of my heart rate, the exercise a welcome task to my previously relaxed body. I’m out of shape. I used to work out every day at my local gym but haven’t done so for months. It shows. I’m breathless as I struggle to keep up, and just when I can’t think I can take it anymore, we stop. I barely open my eyes so I can see where we are and a swarm of more black is directly in view.

Our driver?

With the noise still thrashing in my ears, he pulls down on my wrist and almost pushes me through the door - flinging himself in straight after me. He falls awkwardly, almost ending up on top of me.
Almost.
As he slams the door shut the driver screeches off, his tyres drowning out the screaming and chanting to a welcomed silence.

It’s over.

I readjust myself so I am sitting up in my seat and attempt to get my breathing to a steadier pace. I glance up slowly towards him. He is still wearing his sunglasses, yet I can see his face is frozen; not giving anything away. My mind urges me to break the silence, but I can't. Not yet. I don’t want to. He pulls out his phone from his tight jean pocket and begins dialling someone's number. I listen intently and wonder who the hell he could be calling.

"Amy!"

Amy?

Who the hell is Amy?

"There were paparazzi outside the dock waiting for us," he says angrily, his American accent edgy as it sends a chill down my spine.

"Did you explain to them?"

He is starting to sound infuriated. There’s a silence from him and all I can hear is a slight muffle on the other end of the phone.

Amy
,
my conscious reminds me.

"Well you obviously didn’t!"

I endure more silence before he hastily turns over his shoulder taking a grave peek towards me, his lips in a tense line.

"For fuck’s sake Amy, she wouldn’t have!" he almost screams. I immediately flush.

Did she insinuate that I called them?

Is she serious?

I wouldn’t even know how to do that?

Who to call?

Who the fuck does she think she is? This... Amy?!

I am agitated. My emotions are so heightened going from one extreme to the other in the last few days that it’s no wonder I can’t seem to make any sense of it all. Of anything really.

"Just make sure the flight is under control!"

He slams his phone into his lap and sighs, obviously and loudly; tossing his head back into the seat behind him. I gaze obliviously out the window,
not
seeing - only trying to distain any further awkwardness or discomfort and risk any unwanted conversing. Especially while he is so annoyed. I keep my eyes focused on the moving landscape until I see us turn into an underground car park. There is a security gate up ahead and Jay automatically leans his long slender arm out of his window and punches in a number on the keypad. It makes a beeping sound and as he settles back into his seat, the gate slowly starts to rise. I gulp nervously.

"W-where are we going?” I manage to slip shakily out of my mouth.

"My hotel."

As we approach a nearby elevator in the middle of the dark and desolate garage, we halt. He opens the door and hops out promptly before waiting there with his bent elbow, like he has familiarly done for me before. As soon as I am standing beside him his arm drops suddenly and he slams the car door placing his hand onto my lower back and motioning me around the rear of the vehicle. I watch in despair as the vehicle takes off, doing a u-turn to head back to the security gate we entered through, ultimately leaving us.
Alone
. The elevator doors open and I automatically step inside the tiny room feeling him close behind me. As soon as they close he removes his shades, like it's a daily routine he has inbuilt into his senses and the reflection of the closed mirrored doors show us standing stiffly beside one another. I swallow loudly in the silent space enclosing us. Before I have time to look further into his reflection, the elevator halts and the doors ping open. He again reaches for my wrist gripping his fingers around it tightly, his touch sending those familiar chills all over my body. As we step onto the plush gold carpet we are faced with a suite door; as the number ‘1001’ in a bronze plated plaque glows boldly before me. I gulp.

Oh my God this is
his
room.

What am I doing here?

What is he expecting?

He slides the key card into the slot below the red stagnant light and it ignites to a bright green - blazing positively. He carefully places the card into his pocket and reaches for the handle, dropping his firm grasp on my wrist and pushing open the door. I gasp.

As I take timid close steps into the lustrous suite, I am overwhelmed by its daunting size and extravagance. The entrance leads to a huge room where an oversized cream leather sofa sits grandly in the centre. Copious turquoise and silk gold cushions rest elegantly in the corner of its dense sides; a zebra-print rug providing a buffer between the sofa and the plush carpet that extended from the hall. I keep walking, slowly absorbing the mere lavishness of the suite, a room I had never imagined I would ever be present in. My gaze settles on the adjacent floor to ceiling windows that stretch from each end of the room. In a mindless daze my body drifts towards them where I am struck by the amazing view. One hundred and eighty degrees of Sydney at my feet. The expansive harbour framed by the bridges bold structure, the many boats and ferries floating away in the deep blue water. I take a few deep breaths taking in such a mind blowing view of my home city, where I feel flawed to witness its beauty from such a privileged position.

"What’s
she
doing here?" a female voice asks bluntly.

I spin around suddenly to see a tall, willowy woman with black curly hair and fair skin staring at me with her mouth wide open. The tight black jeans and flimsy concert tee offering an unwanted view of her perfect lean figure; and stunning green eyes that only glowered angrily in my direction.

"Amy, this is Penelope," Jay’s familiar tone enters my ears, momentarily snapping me out of my awkward stare. The woman eyes me up and down critically making me squirm and I manage a polite, yet forced smile through closed lips. She snorts before looking away.

"You brought her here?" she asks unamused. "After everything? Have you lost your mind?"

What's her problem?

He seems to ignore her snapping remark.

"What the fuck happened today?" he scolds, his long pale fingers taking position on his right hip.

"How am I supposed to know? I can’t control
everything
!" Her voice is firm and she abruptly turns to look at me with her pronunciation of 'everything'. "Besides, I told you the paps were out looking for you while you were here. You shouldn’t have gone out! Like I told you
not
to! This is not my fault Jay. It’s yours!" She edges her voice loudly whilst reprimanding him with her second finger, the same way a mother would discipline her child; but there was
no way
this attractive woman was his parent. She had to be around the same age as me, which I couldn't help but fidget uneasily as I took in her stunning appearance and what she may be to him.

"Can we talk about this later?" he doesn’t ask, but angrily demands through clenched teeth.

I am uncomfortable. I shouldn't be here. She casts him one final stern gaze before turning away as he demanded, stomping with annoyance to the far side of the room, past us, still reeling with anger. As she slides through one of the doors and disappears behind it, she slams it shut behind her. I stare at the closed door for a moment still trying to get my thoughts straight until finally meeting his gaze.

"Sorry about that,” he manages.

I stare at him, motionless, trying to find the right words to respond. But truth be told I’m not sure I am alright. I’m confused. Lost. Unable to put any emotions into a response, let alone the right one. After a few moments of buzzing thoughts I automatically respond without knowing what will come out.

"Who is she?"

"Oh," he shakes his head and throws his phone on the nearby sofa. "That’s my assistant." He fumbles his hands into his tight pockets on his skinny jeans uncomfortably.

His assistant?!

His assistant.

Not girlfriend...?

Lover...?

Sex Partner?

Do they have sex?

Questions running through my already clouded mind.

"I’m sorry about earlier," he starts coolly. "That shouldn’t have happened," he adds bluntly, shaking his head and moving his eyes to the floor.

What shouldn’t have happened?

Our date?

The kiss?

Everything?

My mind scatters. The worry about him realising the whole day has been a mistake and that I’m not worthy company floods me. My eyes begin stinging as the tears that have seem to hover just below the surface feel finally ready to make their long awaited escape.

"I don’t know how they were tipped off," he mumbles.

I sigh with slight relief.

He isn’t talking about me.

Suddenly the visions of the screaming crowd, the photographers, and the rush of urgency come back in flashes. As I shake my head to release the images scattering urgently though my mind I notice he is standing right in front of me. The air around me as he comes into focus, feels suffocating yet again. The energy between us building at a rapid rate. I fidget uncomfortably. Confused with all of the emotions running through my body, my mind and my fragile soul. He raises both of his hands so they meet my shoulders and I shiver with the feeling of his touch through my loose tee. His grasp is so cold, yet so warm all the same time.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he offers considerately. I glance away from him and all I can manage is a shake of my head. In that moment, I try to gather my thoughts. I try to make sense of everything that has happened. All of this excitement, the danger, and the uncertainty of it all is going to end so soon with him leaving tonight. The pure bliss I felt earlier is instantly shattered. The realisation that's beginning to sink in is far too much for me to deal with and I decide I need to protect what is left of my heart before it's too late.

It
is
too late.

I need to leave. I look up at him cautiously, the resolve in my mind clear - until my eyes reach his. He’s facing the open windows that span across the room and the reflection of the light streaming through make his eyes look like crystals. They are breathtaking. An ache throbs loud in my chest as the wound tears abruptly open.

It is far. Too. Late.

"I think it’s best if I just leave," I stumble genuinely out of my mouth. His glowing eyes widen, but he’s body stays still. He stares at me for a moment like he is deep in his own buzzing thoughts, before clearing his throat subtly.

"You don’t have to go. My flight isn’t for a few more hours."

"I know, but...." I start, not knowing what else to say.

"Is this about Amy? I will handle her later," he interjects firmly, but I can’t help but focus on the word 'handle.'

"It’s not about that," I dismiss as I glance down towards the floor.

Why is something so easy just so damn awkward.

I barely know him!

Before I risk him raising my chin to look into his burning soul searching gaze, I raise it confidently and try to blink away his beauty before me. "I have so much going on in my head right now. This whole thing is just so crazy," I finally blurt.

“I don’t know how they were tipped off,” he replies under his breath, the annoyance evident.

“Look that’s not your fault, none of this is. I just can’t get my head around everything that’s happened and I’m already trying to deal with other
stuff.
And…”

And what?

I don’t want to get anymore attached to you since you fly out of the country soon, leaving me behind further tattered and completely emotionally wrecked.

"Please... stay."

He interrupts my thoughts as he gently squeezes his fingers on the very peak of my shoulder.

Stay and what?

Have sex with him!

I shove my conscious’ remarks way down into my gut, so I can manage to keep myself somewhat composed. The air around us is so thick, building with each and every second that passes; if I wait much longer, I may pass out. I think I
know
why he wants me to stay, his eyes are burning their intention into mine. But I can't. I won’t.

"I can’t."

I don’t want to stay and get into a situation where I have to tell him I can’t sleep with him!

That I’m not that kind of girl.

I don’t care if he thinks it’s an overreaction or immature of me. I’m not that woman.

Before I realise it, the words escape from my mouth mirroring my thoughts precisely. "I’m not a one night stand kind of girl Jay."

Oh. My. God.

Did I just say that out loud?

I cringe at the honest words that flowed so freely. I didn’t even recognise my voice. It was so certain, so mature, so made up! I’m slightly impressed with myself, despite feeling completely mortified at the same time. His eyes continue to search mine and I notice his mouth turn slightly up in the corners. He licks his delicate lips and to my amazement, he doesn't laugh at me.

"I know," is all he whispers.

But the idea that he agrees with what I said sends my body into overdrive.

He knows?!

What’s he saying? What's he not saying?

I look up at him trying desperately to read his face, his eyes, his body language... anything! I see him squirm uncomfortably. Awkwardly.
Openly.

"Penelope..... I, I...."

His words are interrupted by the entrance door bursting open and a raucous of noise bustling into the suite. I look over his shoulder to see the guys from the Loft the other night all barge in like they own the place. Dressed in dark jeans and basic tees and utterly giving me the creeps.

"Jay where have you been? You packed yet?" One of the voices bellows at him from across the room. I realise I must be shielded from view by Jay’s body in front of mine and I have to admit, this relieved the hell out of me.

"No not yet!" he snaps back, without turning to acknowledge their entry.

As they chatter amongst themselves, I feel them get closer as they plonk themselves down on the sofa beside us. Jay turns side on as they approach ensuring I am now in full view of the other men, resulting in their full attention. On
me
. They all stare with strange smug looks on their faces, their eyes grazing over my body from top to bottom. I shift uncomfortably.

"Ah sorry man, didn’t realise you had time for
company
."

The intent and dripping sarcasm in the guy’s voice is obvious, completely nauseating me. It was clear that I didn’t fit in here with these people. This life. I take a composed breath and intervene, taking advantage of their diversion to make my rash exit.

"That’s ok, I’m just leaving anyway.” I muster as much strength as I can and make a beeline for the suite door and with every step I feel the rooms gaze follow me. The other men, and
his
. It's the familiar way his eyes make me feel when he is looking at me and I resist with every instinct I have, to look back at him. As I reach the door he is notably beside me. I shakily extend my hand to reach the handle when I feel his arm extend to mine, stopping me from grasping it.

"Here."

He takes my hands place on the handle and opens it for me, swinging it wide open and motioning me to exit through before him. The men on the sofa don’t acknowledge me leaving as I continue to hear their meaningless banter until Jay closes the door behind us. In slow motion, he glides nervously toward me, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and halting directly in front of me. My gaze following the line of his firm chest all the way up past his soft tender lips. I tentatively look into his eyes and take a quick breath to gather more strength; trying to ignore the attracting force before me.

"I want to thank you for today."

His gaze is empty again, his thoughts completely occupying his expression as I have seen numerous times before.

"It’s my pleasure.”

Before I can turn to face the elevator, I feel his fingers on my shoulder again; his tender touch sending the usual distress signal to my body. His eyes begin to soften, open, and he looks vulnerable.

"I, don’t want you to leave yet," he breathes onto my skin, his warm sweet scent filling my lungs. My pulse starts to race and I realise I have to go, very quickly for fear where this may lead.
Again
.

"Jay.... I have to."

"Please."

Oh my.

I stare at him intently trying to read him, while his words plead with me emotionally. He’s eyes are blazing, the piercing blue striking right through me.

"I can’t."

I lean towards him, letting my heart throb at the closeness and gently press my nervous lips to his smooth cheek; allowing myself to inhale his addictive scent one last intoxicating time.

"I’m sorry," I whisper. I turn and jump into the awaiting elevator and as soon as I am safely inside - I turn to face him. For the final, painful time. As the doors begin to close I see his distraught, torn face until I am met by my own reflection in the mirrored elevator. An image suddenly appears in my mind of the heartbreaking scene that crippled me. The last time I saw Evan at Rosie’s front door. The way he mouthed the words, 'I'm sorry', before leaving me heartbroken and empty in the doorway. My scarred heart throbs loudly, deafening me, at the similarity between that heartbreak to the one I was just a part of. The one I had just
delivered.
My vision blurs and the tears stream down my face forcefully, unable for me to stop or keep up with their constant barrage. I can only sob hysterically in the elevator of the plush hotel as I leave him for a second time in two days.