Journey (4 page)

“I can only imagine what I said.  I hope it wasn’t anything too bad, but if it’s stayed with you this long, I’m guessing it probably is.  Does this mean you’re wanting to get the heck out of dodge early?”

“No, nothing like that.  It’s- You told me about posing nude for a magazine spread or something of that nature.”

Journey does not sit up, but turns her head to look at me from behind her mirrored aviator sunglasses that I’m pretty sure she stole off of my night stand earlier today.  She rubs her lips together as she gathers her response, then clears her throat.

“Well, it’s not something that’s a bad thing, per se.  I happened to be at the headquarters for an epic party and was very drunk when it was offered and I agreed to the chance to be a centerfold and even went to the photo-shoot.  But, the spread didn’t appear in the magazine because I decided it would probably not be the best thing to boost my chance to get into med school.”

“That was probably wise.”  I rub my chin in thought.  “You’re an adult with free will, but for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Journey’s posture slumps as if she is being scolded, so I try to explain my stance more.

“I think it’s great that you’re not shy- it’s something that makes you a lot of fun and your self-confidence is enviable, but I can’t imagine any good would come of that.  You never know when your past can suddenly reappear.”

“I’m not so worried about that.  I can handle judgment and ridicule.  I don’t care one iota about others’ opinions of me.  If they don’t like what I do and my version of self-expression, then they can go suck a tree trunk, for all I care.”

“It should matter to a deg- Did you just say, ‘suck a tree trunk?’  Is that even a real expression?”

“Yes it is.  I just made it one.”  Journey sits up and supports her weight with her hands behind her.  “And if you don’t like it, Mister, you can go suck a tree trunk.”  She huffs and lays back down.  “Okay, opinions do matter.  There, you happy?  My entire life others’ opinions have been paramount and pretty much ruled over me.  I wouldn’t wear a certain brand of nail polish or befriend certain people out of fear of others’ judgment.  When I started college, I decided that I wanted to call the shots and start making my own decisions.”

“I apologize in advance if this sounds like scolding, Journey, because it’s not my intent, but it seems as though you may have missed the mark and gone a bit extreme the other direction.  Not completely...  I mean, partying on spring break or even every weekend in college is very normal, but viewing the ability for millions of men to see all of you on glossy magazine pages, lusting after you, isn’t exactly a healthy form of self-expression.  At least, I don’t think so.

“The jury is still out on how I feel about that, which is why the pictures have never been published.  And, I do value your opinion.”  Journey sighs and almost mumbles, “It means a lot, actually.”

“Then, promise me something.”

“I don’t like making blind promises.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.  Just hear me out.  Promise me that you won’t publish those pictures or do anything that can potentially publicly shame you in the future until you’re sure of exactly how you feel about that form of self-expression.  Should you decide it suits you and it’s what you need, that’s great, but until then, don’t do anything that gives you apprehension.”

“This feels a little judgmental and not fair.  I’ve been trying so hard to get you to be more talkative and have only been mildly successful.  Now, the topic of me being nude in public comes up and suddenly you have a lot to say about it?”

“I tried to keep my answer simple.  You’re the one who pressed for more.”

“I don’t know that I’m finished being irritated with you and your opinions,” Journey’s mouth curls upward into a smirk, “but I told you I knew something was up with your short answer.”

“See?  You seem to have a handle on me.  What more is there to know?”  I kneel next to her chaise, cupping her breast in my hand.  “I’m not saying these don’t deserve to be on display and worshipped, because they absolutely do, but if I had my way, no one would ever see them but me.”

              A light course of air leaves my lungs, causing her nipple to pearl from its contact.  Journey’s back arches lightly as a small cry of pleasure escapes from her lips.  I repeat the same action on her other breast, so that both are budding from excitement.  Journey’s knees separate and she draws her feet closer into her body, inviting me to come closer into her space and against her body.  I lift myself off of the ground and position my body between her legs, my chest against breasts, hips in line with hers, and bring my mouth to hers so I can ravish it. Journey reaches to grip the waist of my board shorts, and lowers them so that we now lie naked together.  We kiss and make love, caressed by the sun’s rays and brushed with the ocean air.

Journey and I spent the bulk of the day in the sun and in each other’s arms.  We agreed to meet up with our posse of friends at The Green Monkey again tonight.  Sitting at the bar, watching Journey speak to Rico in Spanish, I am lost in my headspace.

“A kiss for your thoughts?” Journey breaks up my internal brooding.  I open my mouth, then shut it quickly and tilt my head questioningly.  “Yes, I offered a kiss for your thoughts.  I figured that might sway you more than a penny.  Plus, I don’t have a penny to give you at the moment since I don’t have any cash on me.”

My smile widens.  “You have the right idea.”

Journey leans into me, holding a shot glass.  “Lean your head back.”

I do as she orders, and she puts one hand under my chin and uses the other to place the rim of the shot glass on my bottom lip.  “Don’t swallow,” she commands.  She gently pours the sweet liquid into my mouth, and I put my lips together.  She then tilts my head forward and places her mouth over mine.  When she does, she parts my lips with her tongue, causing the alcohol mixture to pour into her mouth.  At any other time, if someone described it to me, I might think this kind of gesture disgusting, but doing it is incredibly sensual.

I begin to ache for her and can no longer resist placing my hands on the curves of her butt cheeks, wrestling my tongue with hers.  In the middle of the loud, busy bar, it is just us- Journey and Jack.  We continue our steamy exchange for a few moments, until Journey’s mouth smiles against mine, signaling the end of our kiss.

I completely forgot the purpose of the kiss until Journey says, “Now, tell me what you were thinking about when I made the offer.  I kept my end of the bargain.”

“I was just thinking about how superficial George can be and how he makes a point to show everyone that he carries wads of cash or that he has a Black AmEx.”  I surprise myself with my honest answer.

“You were thinking about George?  That’s not nearly as exciting as I thought it may have been, but, totally, he’s an arrogant ass, if you ask me.  I mean, who cares how big his bankroll is?  Money doesn’t buy you class, that’s for sure.”

“You’re exactly right,” I agree, tapping her on the nose.

“Are you drunk yet?” Journey asks me with uplifted eyebrows.

“I’m getting there.  You?”

“Same.  Rico?  Shots, please.”

After we are exhausted from dancing and drinking, we exit the bar for a leisurely walk on the beach.  Hand in hand, we walk in the break of the ocean’s tide.  Journey’s hair is swept up wildly each time there is a gust of wind creating shimmering trails of crimson behind her.

              “Jack, I don’t want this to end.”

              “I don’t either.”

              I wonder if she’s referring to us being together beyond this week and not just vacation.

              “No, when I say I don’t want this to end, I mean
this
this.  As in, what we have.”

              Question answered…  I feel the same way, but there are so many outlying factors, that I don’t know if it’s feasible for us to expect to be together beyond these short weeks together.  I am relieved that she seems to feel the same way about us, but I am also terrified of things going horribly wrong.  She has medical school, and I have to finish grad school and business keeps me in New York at this time.  What if things don’t work out?  I can’t imagine how devastating it would be for one of us to completely change their life for the other, and it not work out.

              Despite these reservations, I am honest when I say, “I don’t want
this
this to end either.”

              “But, I don’t see how it can’t end.  I mean, we’re soon to be in completely different corners of this country.  I have med school and you have school and work.  I think it would be entirely selfish for either of us to ask the other to give up their lives.  At least for now.  On top of that, we don’t know each other outside of vacation mode.  
This
this could be non-existent outside of a beautiful beach with no responsibilities and nowhere else to be.”

              “I’ve thought the exact same things and have the same concerns, but I think it might at least be worth a try.”

              “Perhaps, but I can’t ask you to commit to someone who doesn’t even know what exactly she wants out of life and has so many commitments that must come first.”

              “What if we compromise?  What if we communicate beyond a few annual texts?  We don’t have to commit to one another in terms of exclusivity or labels.”

              “You mean, why don’t we act like normal people and have a friendship first, then see how it goes?”

              “Pretty much, yeah.”

              “I think I can manage that.”

              “Yeah, me too.”

Journey

Is it wrong that I’m a more than a little proud that I can keep up with Jack when it comes to drinking?  Okay, it might be, but I think I’ve finally worn down some of his defenses.  My system of giving physical affection in exchange for answers is working.  

I’ve learned that his mother is Greek and her family was a large shipping magnate in Greece.  I now know that his parents met as his father was vacationing in Greece on a yacht, but his mother didn’t live there.  It turns out that she lived in Massachusetts, so they easily reconnected back in the states and the rest is history.  He’s told me little tidbits here and there, but is still guarded.  Regardless, some information is better than none.

He’s like an artichoke- you have to peel off all of the little pokey leaves on the top in order to even get to the outer layers in the center.  Once you get there, you still have several layers to go through until you get to the actual heart, which is surrounded by a gorgeous purple before it’s cooked.

“You’re an artichoke,” I say, kissing Jack on the nose.

“I’m a vegetable?  I think it might be time to slow down on the drinks.”

“That may be so, but you’re still a sweet, sexy artichoke.”

“And you’re my wildflower.”

“How’s that?”

“You’re pretty and unique, you can thrive under any circumstance, and I have a feeling if someone were to mow over you, you would grow back to be just as pristine and gorgeous as ever.”

“Exactly what species of wildflower am I?”

Without hesitation, he replies, “Forget-me-not.”  I tilt my head thinking it over.  He continues, “It seems pretty self-explanatory.”

“I’m hard to forget?”

He grins.  “No, you’re small and unique, just like a forget-me-not.  Your vibrancy stands out everywhere you are just as the forget-me-not does in any bouquet of flowers.  Put a million of you together, and you leave a lasting and beautiful impact on the world around you.”

“Wow.”  I stand blinking, captivated by his answer.  “That’s so much better than my name for you, but I’m still claiming you as an artichoke.”

“You can call me anything you want, as long as you keep giving me your lips.”

I start to grant his request, but Lexie stops me.  “Okay lovebirds, Tony and I are out of here.  Catch up with you tomorrow.”

“Wait!” I call out to Lexie, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the corner of the bar.  “
Uno momento
, Tony.”

Tony nods in response, but not before I’m dragging Jack behind me.  Lexie looks at me expectantly in annoyance.  She’s had a similar powwow with me a time or two before.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?  You know if you don’t want to go with him, you can come back with Jack and me.”

With a large exhale, Lexie replies, “Yes, like every other time, I’m okay and I want to go with him.”

“Okay, I just want to make sure.  You know I’m your security detail, so if you want me to make him get lost, I will.”

“I know that.  Now, be a good wing woman and let me go have some fun.”  Lexie smiles.

I give her a big hug.  “Okay, Lovey.  Be safe.  I love you.  Text me when you get there.”

“I know, I know.”

We walk back over to Tony, who does seem to be very sweet and genuine.

“
Adonde vas
?” I ask Tony.

“He speaks English just fine, Journey,” Lexie interjects.  “We are going back to the hotel.  Emily and Anna are already back there, and I got my own room this time, so we will be fine.  Really.”

“I promise to get her there safely and then show her a good time,” Tony says, dimples formed in his cheeks from his smile.

“Alright.  Have fun you two.  Call me if you need me!”

“We won’t!” Lexie calls to me as she heads out with her new friend.

Not realizing I was holding Jack’s hand this whole time, I let go of it, looking back at him.

“I’m going to run to the restroom,” Jack says.  “Pardon me for a moment, will you?”

“Lightweight,” I tease him.  “Go ahead.  I’ll be here when you get back.”

Jack strolls away with grace, and I watch his rounded butt cheeks move in his light, linen shorts until George steps beside me, startling me.

“Having a good time?” he asks.

“Of course!  I didn’t realize you were still here.  I thought you all left.”

“Hal and Marshall did.  We have an early tee time tomorrow and they can’t hang like I can.”

“Oh.  I don’t know how you all play golf so much.  I would get bored, I think, but to each his own.”

“Jack loves playing golf.  He played in college.  Did he not tell you that?  We go on golf trips all of the time.  The only reason he isn’t playing on this trip is because you’re here.”  

“No, he didn’t tell me that, but that’s interesting to know.  He doesn’t have to skip playing because of me.”

George closes in the space between us.  I try to back away, but my back is against a stool.  I look around, trying to find a space to squeeze into, but I see none.  It’s not as though I can feel the heat of his breath on my neck or anything, but I have a bubble of personal space that I like to maintain unless I invite you into it.  George is in my bubble, and I don’t like it.

“You don’t know much about him, do you?  I bet he doesn’t share a whole lot with you, except how much money he has.  But, if you’re looking for money, you’re barking up the wrong tree.  He’s not the philanthropist I am.”

“George?  You’re kind of all up in my space right now.  Do you mind backing up just a little?”  I motion with my hands for George to move back.  “Does Jack know that you’re here?”

Instead of doing as I requested, he takes a step closer.  “What’s wrong?  You don’t seem to have a problem letting everyone else get right up against you.”

“I don’t appreciate the implication, George.  Moreover, I think you’re drunk.”  I turn toward the bar and ask Rico for some water.

George places his hand over my wrist, which is now basically pinned to the bar top.  I look up at his weasley smile and take a hard swallow.  I don’t really know what to do or say
.  Is he just toying with me or is he serious?
 I throw a pleading look Rico’s way and he must read it clearly, because in rapid succession, he is in front of us, handing George his credit card, a pen, and a slip of paper to sign.  George casually takes the items from Rico, but I’m still stuck between the bar and the stool.

Rico sticks around, making small talk.  “
¿Habla Espanol, George?
”

“No, not really.  The little bit I know, I learned from our housekeeper.”

George manages to ruffle the feathers of Rico as well, which I imagine is a tough thing to do since he comes across all kinds here.

“
¿Lo que está mal?  ¿Te está molestando, porque puedo patearle el culo?
”

I reply to Rico in Spanish that yes, George is bothering me, but that there was no need to kick his ass.  Yet.  

To my relief, Jack returns
and asks in Spanish whose ass we’re talking about kicking.  I explain that George is drunk and acting like himself.  We all laugh, with the exception of George, who I am sure can ascertain that he is the topic of conversation and the butt of the joke, which I know he doesn’t like.  George carries a creep factor of which I can’t quite explain.  After each trip, I think in hindsight that maybe I don’t give him enough credit, but when I see him again the next year, the same ickiness comes back and usually stronger than I remembered it.  

For all intents and purposes, he seems like your average spoiled rich kid who takes himself and his family’s money a little too seriously, but each time I’ve attempted to make conversation or joke around with him like I do everyone else, his responses are never as I expect them to be.  His behavior and the way he carries himself I find bizarre, and not just because he’s a snob and a half to most everyone.  He seems to linger on the outskirts of conversations, and my personal bubble, just a little too long.  He doesn’t quite leer at me, but doesn’t look at me in a way that seems casual and nonchalant.  I don’t know...  He’s just creepy.

Before I can try to smooth things over with George like I normally do, Jack grabs my hand and motions for me to come to him, which makes George have to move out of my way.  He walks me to the now almost empty dance floor.  “Dance with me.”  His warm, brown eyes flash George a death stare, then shine brilliantly when they return to me.

I place my hands around his neck, which is a bit of a stretch since he’s over a foot taller than me, but well worth the effort.  “I thought you don’t dance.”

His hands rest on my hips as he says, “I don’t, but I paid the DJ handsomely to play this song.”  

I listen intently to hear Otis Redding’s “These Arms of Mine” playing in a rustic, local bar in Mexico.  For the duration of the song and into the rest of the night, our only focus is one another.  The burning stares from strangers, the fact that my time with Jack is limited, my worries and frustrations about him being guarded, the reputation and social norms I must maintain, and the awful exchange with George all melt away from my consciousness.  Jack and I may as well have been dancing, and subsequently making love, weightlessly suspended and burning bright in the atmosphere, because that’s how it feels.  

For the next few days, we are the center star of our own universe, causing everything else to revolve around us and aligning things as we see fit.  

Just as stars shine brilliantly right before they burn out, so do we.