Wild Thing

32. Thirty-Two

Thirty-Two

DYLAN

B rax had somehow made stop hating myself for a little while.

We were in the shower washing the sand, salt and other stickiness off each other’s bodies. We didn't say much, but it was a comfortable silence.

My thoughts drifted to the stranger who watched us have sex on the beach. I wondered if he went home and fucked his wife to the memory of two strangers fucking on the beach?

Once clean, Brax handed me some of his sweats to wear.

I slipped on his hoodie, which was long enough to be a dress on my small frame. His leathery, woody scent was embedded into the cotton.

I wanted to melt into it.

What was it about a man's clothes that make women weak at the knees?

I trotted down the hallway to where he was waiting for me with a glass of red wine. He had a look on his face that promised more pleasure.

"What?" I asked.

He handed me the wine. “You look fucking sexy wearing my clothes.”

He kissed me on the cheek and my entire body responded with a shiver.

Grabbing my hand, he led me out onto the back verandah, where the ocean stretched out before us. On the picnic blanket, laid out in the late afternoon sun, were cheese, crackers, the bottle of red wine and a portable speaker.

I nestled between Brax's legs as he stretched his large frame across the rug, leaning back on his arms. We watched the ocean in silence, our bodies heavy with exhaustion from the sun, the sex and the secrets.

Shifting his body, Brax wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder.

I loved being held like that.

I'd been so starved for affection that I forgot how good something so simple felt. Or maybe it wasn't the act itself, but rather the man behind it.

James Blake’s Radio Silence was the only sound competing with the crashing waves. The usual chaos of my mind stilled.

“What are you thinking about?” Brax asked, placing a small kiss on my neck.

“That the world could end right now and I would be totally fine with that.”

“Why?”

I wanted to tell him that it was because we deserved to die.

I surprised myself with how dark my thoughts had become.

I turned to face him and kissed him gently, pretending that I was okay, and that I was just being dramatic. I was getting really good acting. Time to change the subject. “I saw my sketch hanging on the wall.”

“You noticed that, huh?”

“I can’t believe you kept it.”

A few moments passed.

“I kept all of the drawings you did for me.”

“You did?”

“Yep. Every single one.”

“Even the ones of my tits?”

He reached underneath the hoodie and squeezed my tits. “Especially the ones of your tits.”

“What did Ally think about the picture?” I died a little on the inside when I said her name.

I didn’t know why I wanted to know. Some sick part of me needed to know more about their relationship. I wanted him to tell me how much their relationship sucked, that she was a bitch, that she was unsatisfying and rotten to the core.

Anything to make me feel better about the betrayal.

“She didn’t notice," he replied. "She hates this place.”

Part of me felt joy when he said she hated this place. The joy was short-lived as I realized how she must have hurt Brax by rejecting something he'd worked so hard to have.

“She hates this place?”

“Yeah. We don’t actually have a lot in common,” Brax admitted quietly. “Our relationship should have ended a long time ago.”

“Why hasn't it then?”

Brax sighed. “It’s complicated. There’s a lot of… layers. I'll tell you everything once all of this is over, I promise."

"Why won't you just tell me now?"

"Because it's a long story and I don’t want to ruin this moment. I don't want to talk about her. I just want to be here, with you, right now.”

I understood that. I felt the same, wanting to savor these final days together without any distraction or reminder of the shit storm we both had to face when we got home.

Breaking up with our partners wasn’t going to be easy.

I hadn't asked Brax if he was going to tell Ally the truth, and he hadn't asked me what I planned on telling Zack. It was probably for the best that we didn't share those details.

I wondered if I would feel like a good person again once this was all over. I hoped so.

“Do you feel bad? About what we’ve done?”

"Part of me feels bad, yeah," Brax took a deep breath in and exhaled. “But, at the same time, I’ve never been happier or more sure about anything in my life. Do you know what I mean?”

I knew exactly what he meant.

Except I seemed to be struggling with the guilt more than Brax. Or so it appeared anyway.

Regardless, his words gave me comfort.

If I could keep him around me, near me, it was like the guilt was still there, but rather than a raging sea of it, it simmered in the background. It was more bearable.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Of course," he said, kissing me on the back of my neck. "But I want more than just tonight, though, Dyl. You know that, right?”

I wanted so much more than just one night too.

Despite my gut feeling that Brax wasn’t being entirely honest with me, it was time he knew just how deep my feelings ran. "Do you believe in something greater than us?"

"What do you mean? Like God?"

"No, like, the universe. Like, if it has a plan for us. That it has the power to intervene lives. Pushes you onto certain paths, into certain people. That type of thing."

"To an extent, I do," Brax answered. "But ultimately, I think we're in control of our lives. The universe just sets the scene."

With my eyes fixated on the rolling waves crashing onto the shore, I finally dropped my walls and let him in. “When I arrived in London, I’d cry myself to sleep at night. Our break up crushed me. I just didn’t feel like there was any closure, or a proper goodbye. You know?

“Yeah, I know.”

“I couldn’t escape you, even being on the other side of the world. And as time wore on, I wouldn’t say it got easier… I guess I just got used to it.”

Brax’s arms tightened around me as I bled to death with my honesty.

“I hopscotched through life. Running. Distracting myself by work and traveling. Which worked, to an extent. But every night, lying in bed, my thoughts would always return to you," I gripped onto Brax's forearms. Maybe if I held him tight enough, the words would seep into his skin. "Once I moved to White Point, my life became work. And before I knew it, I had fallen into exactly what I was fearful of… living a predictable, boring life like ever other mindless person. I fell into a shitty relationship with a shitty guy because I thought that's all there was for me."

I sighed deeply and continued.

"But I’d never felt more empty. Unhappy. Borderline depressed, probably. I came to the city begging the universe for a sign," I nudged against him. "And then you walked into the bar."

A few moments passed in silence, aside from the waves crashing onto the shore.

Maybe I’d said too much.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Brax said eventually. "My life lacked purpose until I saw you again."

A breeze rolled in as the sun dipped below the paper thin line on the horizon. The sky was a mix of magentas, red and orange, like it was on fire. Just how my body felt with Brax’s arms wrapped around me.

“What’s going to happen next?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

I turned around and studied his face. He had his hoodie up over his head, a few loose strands of his dark hair peeking out and blowing in the cool breeze. “But our lives are in different places.”

His full lips parted slowly. “We’ll figure it out."

I wondered if maybe he hadn’t truly thought about the logistics of what being together entailed.

One of us was going to have to move.

One of us was going to have to sacrifice more than the other.

“What if you get home, and you realize you’ve made a huge mistake and that Ally–”

“Stop with that bullshit. That’s not going to happen,” he snapped. I hadn’t heard his voice this stern before. “I’ll always remember what it was like to not have you. I'm not going through that again.”

I could feel my throat closing over. It’s not like I needed to hear these things, but I needed that reassurance, that promise that he wasn’t going to bail once we left here.

I wasn’t sure when I became this lovesick, but I guess that was what love did to me.

It rendered me helpless and made me its little, cheating bitch.

“Stop being so fucking worried that I’m going to get home and forget about you, or about us. Don’t you get it? You’re it for me. I just want you . All of you. Your fucked up, messy mind included.”

I could feel tears welling, threatening to spill and slide down my cheeks. I didn't want to look this vulnerable, or meek, but I'd dropped my walls and it felt freeing.

He reached his giant hands to my face and cupped my cheeks.

“I’m all in Dylan. I’m so in love with you. I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for one day. And it's going to get worse before it gets better. It'll be uncomfortable when we get home and do what we have to do,” he said. "But in the end, we'll be together. All this shit will have been worth it. Are you ready?"

He loved me?

The first stars of the night watched on as I leaned into him and kissed him furiously.

He. Loved. Me.

It felt like it was us against the world.

Pity in just over 24 hours, it would be us against each other.