Still Waters (14 page)

Crew

When I reach the top of the staircase, I
hesitate for a moment and then quietly push open the door.

Hartley
is curled on her side under the mosquito netting on the bed, her hair soft and
spread out over the white linen. She’s wrapped in a towel that’s come undone a
little so that I can see the long lines of her back. She stirs when I walk into
the room and rubs her eyes.

“Good
nap?” I smile, and she nods sleepily.

“Great
nap. What time is it?”

“Almost
six. You slept for a while. Are you hungry?”

She
pulls the towel tight around her and sits up.

“Mmmm
hmm.”

She’s
so beautiful sitting there with her legs tucked under her and her long curls
spilling over her shoulder. She looks like a Renaissance painting.

“What?”
she says when she notices my eyes on her but I can’t pull them away.

“You
look so pretty.”

I
try to elaborate but desire leaps through my belly, aching and hungry, and then
I’m lost for words. She smiles and looks down at the towel.

“I’ll
just get dressed, and I’ll meet you at the bottom?”

I
nod dumbly and leave the room.

When
she walks around the staircase encircling the tree, it’s even harder to keep my
eyes off her than before. She’s wearing a white beach dress that she bought
from a children’s shop. I think it was made to be long, but on her it stops
just above her knee. She’s pulled her hair up into a knot at the base of her
neck, and she’s wearing a pair of gold sandals on her feet. Watching her walk
around and around the trunk of the tree is an exquisite form of torture.

“You
look amazing,” I say when she finally reaches the bottom, and I can pull her to
me. She smells like coconut and sugar.

“You’re
not so bad yourself.”

She
smiles up into my face, and I’m happy I took the time to shower and change into
some clean clothes.

“I
can’t wait to show you this.”

I
take her hand, pulling her along like some kind of excited schoolboy on parents’
day, eager to show her what I’ve made. She runs after me, laughing and skipping
over the pebbles on the path until we reach a small track leading down to the
sand. I slow down then, because the path can be steep and because I want to be
sure to see her face when we get to the other side. I lead her out, through the
vines and the trees and the dampness of the forest until we’re standing on a
sandy shore, all alone.

“What
is this?” she breathes as she takes in the long wooden jetty I built with my
Uncles during a hot summer six months ago. At the end is a small cabana that we
made from an ancient tree that washed up on the shore. It has a roof to keep
out the sun but the walls are open. When you’re inside it, it feels like you’re
far out to sea, with nothing around you but ocean. We walk down the jetty hand
in hand and my heart just about bursts when she notices the candles that I had
Evita’s daughters put all the way along the edges. When we reach the end, she
pulls the netting aside and steps in.

“Oh,”
she says quietly, as she kicks off her sandals and crawls over the big platform
covered in pillows.

When
she turns around her eyes are round and wet and her bottom lip trembles.

“It’s
like our cubby house.”

I
climb onto the platform in front of her and kiss away the teardrops under her
eyes, one by one.

“I
told you I have a thing for forts.”

“This
is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me,” she whispers.

“You
deserve it.”

She
lifts her arms and threads her fingers through the hair at the back of my neck
and the need inside me sparks to life again. The longing is so strong that I
have to close my eyes.

“Thank
you,” she murmurs against my lips, and then I’m kissing her, pulling her head
back with my hands so that I can have more of her. She takes her hands from my
hair and runs them over my arms, making them erupt with goose bumps.

I
kiss her, and kiss her until there’s no way for me to keep my mouth on her
without touching her somewhere else.

“Mmmmm,”
she says as she moves her lips away from mine and places them on the side of my
neck. She’s up on her knees next to me, and my hands are itching to throw her
onto my lap, but instead I run them up the back of her legs over her dress. She
presses her ass into my hands and pulls my earlobe into her mouth, biting it
the way I did to her.

“Hartley,”
I say, but I don’t know why because there are no words there to follow it.

She
smiles against my neck and then pulls back so that we are looking into each
other’s faces. Her eyes are burning, and her cheeks are flushed, she breathes
heavily through lips that are swollen and perfectly pink. I wonder what I look
like.

She’s
about to say something, and I’m desperate for it to be the words I want to
hear, but instead a loud growling noise fills the cabana, and she presses a
hand over her stomach.

“Oh
God,” she groans. “Sorry. I haven’t eaten anything since the airport.”

I
laugh softly and kiss her gently on the lips, then move away so that I can pull
the basket of food out from under the platform. Evita did a great job. There’s
wine, fruit and cheese and a loaf of bread, containers with salads and a cold
roast chicken. I smile when I see the little pink box full of chocolates that I
know Evita put in there for me to give to Hartley later. I pull everything out
and lay it on the small table next to where we’re sitting and turn to ask her
what she’d like.

“A
romantic candlelit picnic?” she cries when she sees the food. “What are you
trying to do to me? Ruin me for life?”

I
pass her a plate and have to laugh when I see the stunned look on her face.

“That’s
the plan, kid.”

We
eat and drink and when we’re finished we pile up the cushions and lie down side
by side. The ocean laps against the jetty underneath us and through the netting
we can see the stars, so much brighter out here away from streetlights and
headlights and the soft glow of houses.

Now
that we’re in a cubby house again the atmosphere feels ripe for revelations.

“How
long were you with David for?” I ask her, and I’m careful to speak of their
relationship in the past tense. Because I hope it is.

“Four
years,” she says quietly. “I met him when he started as an intern at work. He
must have caught my parents’ eye because suddenly he was at every Sunday brunch
and weekend away at the lake house.”

“Did
you have many boyfriends before him?”

She
sighs and looks over at me on the cushions.

“No.
He was my first proper boyfriend. I kissed a couple of guys in college, and
there was this one guy who worked in a bookstore in town that I liked. But I
knew my parents would never approve of him, so I broke it off, even though he
was pretty great.”

“Does
that mean David was your first?” I say quietly, rolling on my side and propping
up my head with my hand. She nods.

“Does
that mean David is your only?”

She
doesn’t say anything for a moment and then nods slowly. Jesus.

“Was
Jessie your first?”

I
guess I should have expected that, after what I’ve just asked her. But it still
feels like someone is pressing on the bruised spot on my heart when I hear it.

“Yeah.
We were together since we were twelve, so it was kind of inevitable I guess. We
waited until we were both sixteen, and it happened one night when my Mom and
Dad were away. Psych ward for her, rehab for him,” I add quietly. Not that it
helped either of them.

“What
was it like?” she says, and I smile suddenly at the memory.

“That
good, huh?”

I
look into her eyes and shake my head.

“No,
not even close. We figured out what to do alright, but afterwards, well, she
cried.”

“Uh,
oh,” Hartley says, and I can see she’s trying not to laugh. “What did you do to
her?”

“Nothing
like that,” I laugh and then suddenly it’s not funny anymore. “She cried
because she said she was happy.”

Hartley
takes a deep breath and leans over to kiss me softly on the mouth.

“What
was your first time like then?” I ask, and as soon as I’ve said it, I realize I
don’t want to know.

“Oh,
well,” she says mildly, “it was, you know, probably pretty normal for a first
time. Awkward. Uncomfortable. A bit embarrassing. I wasn’t that sure about the
whole thing to begin with, but I was almost twenty, and I felt like the last
virgin on the planet by then. And David wanted to, of course.”

I
bet he did. The bastard.

“So
after the first time…” she says quietly, and I can see that there’s a question
in her eyes, but I’m not sure what it is.

“Yes?”

She
looks away for a second and then chews her lip anxiously.

“Babe,
you can ask me anything. As long as you’re prepared to hear the answer.”

She
looks over at me and swallows.

“What
was it like after the first time?”

“With
Jessie?”

“Yes.”

I
allow my mind to find those memories for a second, and it’s as if they’ve been
standing at the door, waiting to be asked in from the cold. As soon as I open
it a fraction they rush in.

“It
didn’t last long at first,” I say, rolling back onto my back so that I’m
looking up at the roof. “But then we got better at it, and by the end.. it was
beautiful. I always wanted to be with Jessie; from the very first time I met
her. When I was a kid I wanted to be part of her family, then when I got older
I wanted her to be mine. When I was inside her, it felt like everything I ever
wanted fell into place. It felt like because we were joined her goodness
spilled into me, washing away all the shit I felt inside. While it lasted,
anyway. When I made love to her, everything felt right.”

I
look over at her and see that she’s lost in thought. I realize too late that
she might even be crying.

“What’s
the matter?” In between us, I find her hand. “I’m sorry if that was hard to
hear.”

“It’s
not that,” she mumbles and sniffs away a tear. “I’m happy that you had that
with Jessie. I’m just sad because I think I’ve just realized what I’ve been
missing.”

I
could ask her some really personal questions about what a shit lover David was
right now; they’re hanging in the air, waiting for me to pluck them. But
instead I roll on top of her and prop myself up onto my elbows on either side
of her face. She gasps a little when she feels the weight of me on top of her,
and her eyes are wide with wonder.

I
dip my head and kiss her savagely because I want her to feel how powerful and
consuming this can be. She reaches her hands under my shirt and runs them up my
back, tilting her hips and pushing them into me. I hear myself groan into her
mouth. I could take off her dress right now, there’s no one on the beach to see
us, and I know she wants me. I can feel her hunger; it’s as raw and naked as my
own. I want to give in to it but then suddenly there’s a small voice inside me
warning me to be careful. At first I can block it out, covering it up with the
sound of Hartley breathing under me and the rush of the sea under the
floorboards. But it grows louder, refusing to be ignored. Suddenly I’m thinking
about all of the one night stands and the women I made empty promises to. The
bedroom fucks and the fucks up against the walls of bathroom stalls in seedy
bars. The nice girls who made love to me on clean sheets not knowing that the
whole time I was blinding screwing them my mind was a million miles away,
desperately trying to get back to a time when it actually meant something. The
memories tug at my brain, threatening to merge with what's happening right now
with the girl I think I love underneath me.

I
pull away from her suddenly, breathing hard and lie back on the cushions. I can
hear her breathing next me to me. Neither of us speaks for a while.

“So,”
she says later into the warm night air. “This celibacy thing…”

Her
voice trails off, and I roll onto my side so I can see her face.

“Yes?”

“How
long do you intend to keep that up, exactly?”

“I
don’t know,” I tease to try to cover my panic. “It’s been working really well
for me so far. I’m getting so much more done. I’ve got all of this energy to
exercise more, and I’m working heaps, and I’m not tired so I don’t need to
sleep as much…”

“Crew.”

She
rolls onto her side and looks me in the eye.

“If
you have no intention of sleeping with me, if you can't sleep with me for some
reason, then you’ve got to stop kissing me like that.”

“Like
what?” I murmur and then lean forward to pull her bottom lip between my teeth.
She sighs heavily and closes her eyes. I kiss her slowly this time, slower than
she wants.