Chapter 9
Ryan
T he name-drop worked, turned out.
I spent a bit of time at Stern’s, a grungy place where they gave me skeptical looks until I mentioned Brooklyn, at which point the old man waiting on my table lit up and brought me a little shortbread cookie I didn’t ask for alongside my coffee. Settled in, I threw myself headlong into writing my article there at the table under a dingy window and got some solid progress in that petered out when my coffee cup was empty and my surprise cookie was reduced to a few crumbs left in the saucer, and the act of writing cleared my mind, as always. I found myself more focused, sharper, with the bitter sting of disappointment from Shane and from my family dulled to a blunt thing in the back of my mind, still there but far from the first thing in my thoughts.
Guess it didn’t really matter too much what happened with my family. I already knew how they felt about me and my career, so it was more of a blessing than anything else, being able to take the mask off and stop pretending everything was happy and harmless and nice. That resolution took me back out to the car, laptop tucked under my arm, and from there to a different hotel, a nice place but significantly less luxe than the resort my family had booked.
They’d get pissed off at me for abandoning them altogether to go to a different hotel. That was their prerogative.
The lobby was a small, quiet place with simple furnishings, and a young, wiry woman behind the desk who gave me a reserved smile when she told me that they only had a vacancy open tonight and tomorrow night.
It’d do. Maybe my family would be so mortified by the show that they’d book another room for me at the resort for the rest of the week. Or I’d find another place. Maybe check out the little bungalows like where Allison was staying, and I could join her in mooching off Brooklyn’s pizza oven.
But once I got into my room and unpacked my things, putting in a little more writing and a little update for my subscribers—not going into the details, just letting them know I was continuing to write a little bit while on vacation and that they’d get an article this week, but not to expect my usual pace of long-form writeups—I stared at myself in the mirror, dressed down and ready for a casual dinner, workout clothes laid out on the bed too, and I couldn’t help the thought.
Just one quick little diversion before I saw Brooklyn.
∞∞∞
I knocked against the door, leaning against the frame, kicking one foot up over the other, and I listened as the music turned down on the other side, Brooklyn’s voice carrying from inside the house over the sound of kitchen instruments.
“I wonder who that could be,” she called. I swirled the flowers idly, casting my eyes up towards the bright blue sky, a smile playing on my lips.
“I’ll give you three guesses,” I said back.
“Can I ask for a hint?”
“Someone who loves pineapple on pizza.”
“Okay, that’s going to rule out most people. Hm.” I heard her footsteps inside, and the door shifted—not opening, but the rattle of someone leaning on it from the other side. “Let me ask a few characteristics and you’ll rank how this person does on them.”
“Helping yourself to more hints, I see.”
“Charm?”
“Oh, terribly low.”
“Hmm. That rules out my friend Ryan. Creative skills?”
Were we flirting a little? I… somehow found I didn’t mind terribly. I’d never really flirted with a woman before. Brooklyn was a pretty damn good place to practice. “Creative skills… sometimes she tricks people into thinking she has them.”
“Ah, this is tough. Not at all charming, lacking in creativity… zest for rock-climbing?”
I laughed. “Sky-high, of course. In fact, she even watched some beginner’s bouldering videos while she was at Stern’s to make sure she didn’t completely embarrass herself in front of you.”
“Ah, I’ve got it, then,” she said brightly. “Allison, you’re supposed to be at work still.”
I pursed my lips through laughter. “Between no charm at all, no real creativity, and loves rock-climbing, why do I feel like she’d be most offended by the last descriptor?”
“You know the girl well.” The door handle turned, and it swung open to where Brooklyn was… well, she looked nice, suffice to say. She was dressed for the heat that I could feel rolling from the kitchen right now, wearing a heather-gray sports bra that fitted against the long, firm muscles along her torso, loose black sweatpants leaving all the attention to her tight, toned waist. I was… definitely one of patron saint Sappho’s fledglings, if that was what we were calling it. She smiled oddly at me. “Don’t tell me those flowers were some kind of apology gesture from… any one of a few people?”
I tore my eyes off her waist, feeling a prickle in my cheeks. I think she’d… noticed me looking. She didn’t seem to mind. I minded, though. Gravely embarrassing. “They’re an apology gesture from me,” I said, going for a light laugh, as I stepped into the entrance, holding them out, a small bouquet in the same pale violet and lavender colors I’d noticed she seemed to like as accents in her house and garden. “For darkening your doorstep two days in a row, please accept my apologies. And a gift for the host.”
Brooklyn absolutely shone, giving a brilliant smile between me and the flowers. “Miss Ryan Bell. Are you practicing techniques to tell Allison about? Showing up with a bundle of flowers for a girl—you know how to make an impression, huh?”
She knew how to make an impression. I… needed her to put a shirt on. Keeping myself looking at her face was getting exponentially more difficult the longer I was here. I stepped past her, letting her shut the door, and I said lightly, “Not to offend the poor girl, but Allison did not even begin to enter my mind when I was buying you flowers. I noticed you seem to like the color lavender?”
She laughed, setting the bouquet down on the table, leaning back against it with her hands spread out on either side of it, and the way she leaned back pushed her hips forward and made the musculature on her stomach stand out more… “I have to say,” she said, jerking my thoughts back out of where they weren’t supposed to be, “you’re the most considerate guest I’ve had here. I do… it’s my favorite color. Don’t think I’ve had someone pick it up without me telling them before.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d like flowers, so I was kind of taking a stab in the dark. Guess you could still be pretending you like them to be polite.”
She grinned wider. “What, because I’m not feminine enough to like flowers? Just because I can’t stand skirts, now I’m too ugly and brutish for flowers, is that it?”
Hm. I wasn’t quite ready to let her tease me like that and get away with it. I smiled warmly at her. “Oh, that? No, I just wasn’t sure if you liked girls throwing themselves on you with flowers.”
I got a little quirk of surprise over her features before she settled into an even wider smile, turning back to the kitchen and pushing off from the counter. “You’re trying to make me forget about the food,” she said, bending over to adjust something in the oven.
Admittedly, I wasn’t sad about the thought of being able to make her forget about things.
It had already crept slowly into my mind as I started pushing my family out of my thoughts, working on my article at Stern’s, but seeing Brooklyn here like this— dressed like this—there was no denying how blisteringly hot she was. Even if… going anywhere with her was probably a bad idea, just being able to get validation from a woman at all felt healing in some way. And especially it felt good when it was a woman who looked like—well, that. Back muscles forming a valley deep as the Grand Canyon down her spine as she bent down looking in the oven.
I still really needed her to put a shirt on, though. If I wanted to have any hopes at an intelligible conversation with her, anyway.
In theory, I got my wish, because once she finished putting together two plates of oven-roasted chicken and sweet potatoes, she pulled a shirt on, but she seemed satisfied with a button-up shirt hanging loose, not actually covering the distracting parts. I wasn’t too sad, anyway, if I was being honest with myself.
“Let’s eat up on the terrace,” she said, picking up the plates. “You’re going to freak out with jealousy once you see it. Well…” She paused. “Your family seems pretty loaded. I’m sure you’ve had nicer views.”
I laughed. “I’m not comparing… I’m sure I’ll enjoy the view.”
She paused at the back door. “Are you talking about the view from the terrace, or of my waist?”
Oh, god. I felt my face flare up hot, but—I wasn’t one to lose so easily. I pursed my lips through a smile. “Oh, so you were going around without a shirt on because you wanted me to stare.”
She grinned. “Only thing better than a girl throwing herself at me with flowers is one doing it and staring at my abs.”
Oh, we were flirting flirting. I… didn’t mind. She was probably just being cute, having fun with it—I didn’t think I was too bad, but even with that, I knew this woman was way out of my league. So… nothing wrong with a little harmless flirtation.
“First thing you want from me is my smile,” I said, “and now it’s staring at your abs. You keep asking me for easy things.”
“I mean, why do you think I work out? Health benefits? Don’t make me laugh. It’s so pretty people will look. Now—move your pretty self and come up to the terrace already.”
I blushed hard, which implied I was buying more into it than I should have been, but… somehow I didn’t really want to stop right now.
The terrace was incredible, actually—easily the second-best view here—and I paused once I followed her up the steps behind the house and onto the rooftop, where the palm trees parted past the back garden to a panoramic ocean view, from the rocky crags down to where they rolled off into a quiet, small beach, endless ocean waves lapping. In the other direction, the view of the town sprawled over the long slopes in the distance didn’t disappoint either—the fresh, warm air brushing the palm leaves around the wood railing at the edges of the terrace, terracotta tiles cool underfoot, and the taste of the ocean breeze, I stood there rooted to the spot, taking it all in like I was frantically committing it to memory.
I didn’t care about whatever tourist landmark my family was going to see right now. This kind of scene—this was a landmark I wasn’t going to forget.
I didn’t notice Brooklyn had set down the plates and a flower vase on the table until she came up next to me, her arm brushing mine as she looked out over the scenery with me.
“It’s nice, right?” she said, quietly, and I nodded, not even with a clever comment this time.
“I love the ocean… it’s so beautiful.” I laughed, once, a little incredulous. “How do you not just spend all your time sitting up here, taking it in?”
“I’m impatient is how,” she laughed, flicking her gaze towards me. “I commit to doing just that, I get up here, I sit down, and two minutes later I’m up doing something.”
“I’d just spend all day sitting here with my laptop writing… which is probably not exactly investigative journalism.”
“You can come around here anytime you want a writing spot. Mi casa es tu casa, and all that.” She looked back to the horizon, letting out a long breath. “Not to interrupt your awe at the natural world, but… do you want to eat?”
It was a shame, because the food was delicious—she used some kind of honey-soy glaze on the chicken that gave it a delicious complex flavor, but all I could focus on was the scenery. Brooklyn was patient with me, though, smiling warmly at me and speaking once we were a few bites in.
“Are you feeling better from this morning?”
“A lot, actually.” I set down my silverware, leaning against the smooth sanded wood of the table. “Honestly? I’m pissed off that they’d choose him over me at a time like this. But in a way, it’s almost a… relief.”
“A relief?” She raised her eyebrows high.
“Yeah. I mean, I’ve always known they would. But I always had to pretend I didn’t know that and play nice with the family. If they push me away, I don’t have to deal with being the one to push them away.”
She smiled sadly. “I’m… glad for that, but it still sounds like…”
“Like it sucks that it’s gone down like this anyway.”
“I just can’t believe people like your aunt are showing up trying to force you to behave how they like after they took his side over yours.”
“Yeah. Me neither. And maybe I’ve just always been gaslighting myself that they’re right and that they have a point, but now that I’m seeing it really just—out there in the open—now I can give myself permission to be pissed off with them. So I’m pissed off with them. And that’s great.”
She laughed, smiling oddly at me. “Ryan… I kind of love how your mind works.”
I smiled lightly, holding up the glass of sparkling water she’d poured me. “Damn, but at least let me get to the end of the topic before you flirt with me.”
“Now, why would I go and do something silly like waiting that long?”
“When I’m so irresistible… I guess you make a good point.”
She grinned. “I’m glad you understand.”
Was she actually interested? I knew sometimes you’d just flirt for the fun of it, playing around, teasing a little, but you weren’t actually looking to do anything with it, but—Brooklyn really did wear her heart on her sleeve. That way she just breathed authenticity and openness. And there was something in the way those gray eyes fixated on me like I was the only person on the island.
I’d just dumped Shane’s sorry ass last night. But then… it wasn’t like I minded. Her attention was— flattering was an understatement. Even if I wouldn’t do anything with it, I was… pretty sure.
I sipped my drink, mostly for something to do, something to cover up the nervous little flush I could feel on my face, and I meant to say something and didn’t really think about what was coming out of my mouth, which was how I ended up saying, “What’s it like?”
“Having the absolute perfect life, working a fun job where people lavish compliments and attention on me and coming back to a house with the best view ever? It’s not terrible, yeah.”
I nudged her leg under the table with a laugh. “I’m so happy you’re happy.”
“What’s what like?”
Oh, god. Now I was too embarrassed to follow up. I was a journalist. I could do hard conversations. I’d seen all the things it was possible to be squeamish about. I swallowed, my throat dry, and I managed—trying to be casual with it and failing—“Being with a girl.”
She smiled wider. “Are you thinking of going the Allison route, trying to push out of your rut with a casual fling?”
I looked away, face flushing hard. “I was just asking a question. You invited a journalist into your home, Miss Sterling.”
“Touché. When you say being with a girl, do you mean dating a girl, or are you talking about sex? You don’t have to be precious about language, I’m not scared of sex.”
I didn’t realize it was possible for me to blush more. I ducked my head, my face prickling hard. “Just, all of it… the, uh, the sex included, I guess.”
“It’s pretty damn nice. Of course, it’s all about the individual. It’s always straight guys when I’m with a man, and they all tend to follow the same script. When it’s a girl? There’s a world of difference between a stone butch top traveling with her friend and rocking your world on the side, a shy girl exploring her sexuality in secret while she’s on vacation with her family, a lesbian couple who invite you to join them…”
I’d almost managed to recover a bit until she went off down that road. I didn’t want to know how red my face was. “You get invited to threesomes a lot…?”
She laughed. “More than you know. I turn it down most of the time… it’s usually straight couples where you can tell the girl has no interest in another woman in her bed but the guy’s pressured her to give it a try. It’s always a cool little surprise when it’s a couple of girls inviting you.”
“Um. I can’t speak to that, but I’ll take your word for it.”
She said what I needed her not to. “You’re looking a bit red in the face there, Ryan. Don’t tell me the food’s too spicy.”
“Yeah… the food. That’s what it is.” I coughed into my hand.
“Point is,” she laughed, “ being with a girl looks like all kinds of different things. But I love it.”
“Do you, um… do you go for men or women more?”
“I don’t know if I’d really say I have a preference… I always enjoy it, I think, a little more when it’s another girl, but I think that’s just that a girl is more likely to be putting in the effort. Anyway, I get with girls more often, just because… well, I’ve got a little bit of a queer vibe around me. Attracts more girls than it does guys.”
“Ah… I kind of don’t.”
She laughed. “Still want me to talk about what the sex is like?”
“Um—let’s spare me for today,” I said with an awkward laugh into my hand. “So, do you… do you actually see yourself settling down at any point, or do you like it better like this?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have anything against settling down. I just… can’t, really.”
I paused. “You can’t? How come? Too many girls throwing themselves on you with flowers?”
She laughed, a small and cheerful thing, and—I about had a heart attack in the best way, she plucked a small white baby’s breath flower stem from the bouquet, and she reached across the table, and she pinned it into my hair. My stomach dropped with a nervous, fluttery sensation, but she went on talking casually as if she didn’t do anything. “While that’s obviously part of it,” she said lightly, “it’s more that there’s not really anyone around.”
“Huh?” My critical-thinking functions were not at maximum right now.
She smiled, but it was a little… sad, this time. “Nobody lives in this place. Just retirees and people who have been here their whole lives… the kinds of grandpas and grandmas you probably saw at Stern’s. And as much as I love them, I’m not into that age range. Everyone I’d actually be interested in is just passing through.”
“Oh…” I frowned. “Doesn’t that get a little lonely?”
She shrugged. “It’s got its perks. If I do something stupid, the people who remember it will leave and I’ll have a nice clean slate. If I get together with someone and it goes badly—end of summer, it all hits reset. And there’s some people who come back regularly…” She paused, a distant look in her eyes, looking past me out to the ocean. “There was this one girl who I almost had a real thing with. She was only visiting, but she spent a week here, left, and came back for another week. Lived basically across the water on the mainland, so it was a quick trip, and we had fun for a while.”
“But that is all in past tense.”
She tapped at her plate idly with her fork, scraping at her sweet potato skin. “She decided she wanted something realer. That’s all. Doesn’t mean we didn’t have fun, though.”
She said that, but… that sad little look in her eyes spoke volumes. Still, it seemed like she didn’t want to pursue the subject, so I went for levity. “Well, as long as you keep getting girls throwing themselves at you, all’s well.”
“As long as my abs hold up to get girls staring.”
“Ah… look, I’m sorry for staring,” I mumbled, looking away, and she laughed.
“Don’t be. Body sculpting is hard work. I do it because I want people to look. Not everyone, but you absolutely have permission to.”
That was… hot. I’d have liked to spend a lot of time looking.
I wasn’t like this normally. I wasn’t the type to lust over somebody—even in the early stages of my relationships, where we’d have sex multiple times a week for the first few weeks, it was more about my body seeking urges fulfilled rather than being… turned on by seeing somebody. How was it that the person who got me like this was the person my ex had tried to cheat on me with?
I didn’t doubt there was an element of it that was just that Brooklyn was smolderingly sexy, but there was probably also the element of release. That after all these years trying to put away my attraction to women as an inconvenience, here I was, right in the face of blazing queer sexuality, and I surprised myself more than anyone to find I desperately wanted to take part.
Once we came back from the island and found a way to pave over whatever the hell was happening with my family, I’d probably put this all away, go back to shoving my feelings for women into a corner I could ignore. Even without it, just by the numbers game, I was more likely to end up with a man than I was with a woman. So… for this time outside time, this liminal space far away from my regular life, I found I desperately wanted to do something about it. While I could.
I laughed. I’d been so anxious about the thought that maybe I was expected to have sex while on vacation. Now suddenly I found that—as much as it scared me and I had no idea how the hell I was supposed to do it—I ached for it. Just once in my life, I wanted to have sex with a woman.
“What are you laughing at?” Brooklyn said, a smile dancing on her features.
“Maybe Allison’s onto something,” I said, and she scrunched up her face.
“Seems highly unlikely.”
I blurted it out before I could catch myself. “I think I also want to find something casual. With a woman.”
She stared at me for a second before she broke out into a grin. “Sure.”
“Sure?” I scowled. My heart was still going a mile a minute. “That’s it? Like it’s that easy?”
She laughed. “Ryan, it literally is. I don’t think you realize how attractive you are. This is peak season. There’s a lot of queer people here. We could make sure you end up in a girl’s bed tonight, if you want.”
“Tonight—” I pursed my lips, blushing hard. “Don’t we have a gym visit to attend to?”
“Nightlife goes pretty late here. Just don’t pull anything at the gym. Unless you’d rather do the hooking up another day.”
Oh, god. Was this real? I didn’t think I was that attractive—Brooklyn probably just had a skewed idea of how easy it was to hook up with a girl because of the way she looked—but she was the expert. And I kind of… wanted it to be true. To get a lead on this before I backed out.
Jesus, I didn’t even recognize myself. I kind of like this, though.
“I’ll take it easy, then,” I said. “At the gym.”
She grinned. Oh, god. I was actually doing this.