19. Ryan
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ryan
My head has been in a weird place the whole day.
The headache, while present, isn’t as bad as it sometimes is, but my thoughts are jumbled, my mind fuzzy.
Each thought I try to form somehow leads to me coming to the villa after my run and finding Paige masturbating in my bed.
It’s a vision I doubt will ever leave me.
There’s a rock in my stomach, knowing I saw more than she wanted me to.
It feels icky getting hard about it, but I can’t help it any more than I can my headaches.
The sight of her face, overtaken with pleasure, a toy buzzing between her probably soft thighs, appears in my head unannounced and sends blood to my dick, whether I want it or not.
Then I remember how embarrassed she was, and my headache gets worse.
A part of me expected pity or compassion would only make her more mortified, so I played it off with stupid, flirty jokes.
Though my dick definitely didn’t consider them jokes.
No, he twitched in my pants, imagining replacing her battery-operated friend.
Mom invites me for a non-alcoholic cocktail while Roger makes a work call, and I jump on the opportunity to get away from the villa. She’s already sitting in one of the two bamboo chairs when I arrive, two hollowed-out coconuts in front of her.
“Wow, they’re really pushing these, aren’t they?” I comment, wrapping my fingers around a coconut, eliciting a chuckle out of Mom.
“I think it’s adorable. Regular glasses seem so boring now.” There’s a glow to her skin, and it’s not just the vacation tan. It’s the love she’s experiencing. “So, how have you been doing?” She eyes me with caution. “I know the sleeping situation is less than ideal for you.”
“It’s fine.” The image from earlier flashes through my mind, but that’s hardly something to share with a parent. “At least they don’t get a chance to talk shit about you while I’m around.”
A shocked laugh bubbles out of her. “Come on, Ryan. Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I’m serious. I’m here to defend your honor.” My lips finally wrap around the straw, taking a big sip of the tasty drink.
“I’m a fully grown adult, Ryan. Matter of fact, I made you into a fully grown adult. I can take care of myself. Besides, I like the girls.”
“You do?”
“Of course. Emma is a total sweetheart. Jordan is a little rough around the edges, but I’m guessing she’s a softie inside, and Paige…” She takes a sip of her drink. “I think she’s really warming up to me.”
“What makes you think that?” I lean back in my chair.
She purses her lips. “Excuse me, but what do you think is so unlikely about someone warming up to me?”
“Nothing, Mom. You know you’re perfect. I just think they have their own reasons not to like you.”
“Well, that may be the case, but I’m telling you Paige likes me. She sent me a text thanking me for the aloe vera gel—poor thing, those burns were not looking good—and mentioned she looks forward to spending more time with me while we’re here.” Her mouth pulls into a grin.
An unusual feeling blooms in my stomach. It’s warm and fuzzy, but also confusing. “She did?”
“Actually, she sent it to Roger since she didn’t have my phone number, but same thing.” She shrugs. “It was nice.”
“Yeah. It was nice.”
“How are your headaches, honey? Is the salt in the air helping you?” Worry now frames her warm eyes.
“They’re good. I’ve been feeling well.” The lie tastes bad exiting my mouth, but the last thing I’d want is for Mom to worry about my pain on her tropical vacation. She deserves to fully enjoy it.
“Good. That’s great.” She checks her watch. “Oh, I need to get going. Roger and I have a couple’s massage in ten minutes.”
“He makes you happy, doesn’t he?” It’s a rhetorical question since her happiness exudes out of her pores, but I still feel the need to check on her.
“He really does.” With a soft smile, she places a kiss on my cheek and rushes off toward the beach.
I stay away from the villa for the rest of the day, out of respect for Paige. Since the pain is here to stay, I was searching for a dispensary around here, which took some time. It’s late afternoon when I tread carefully up to my room and onto the balcony, hoping to go by unnoticed.
I drop down onto the wooden floor, my legs hanging off the balcony.
My fingers trace the joint in my hands while I marvel the view in front of me.
Palm trees stretch all the way from our suite to the sea, which is about a football field away.
I sense the salt in the air and hear the soft breeze of the waves.
Just as I place the joint in my mouth, the door opens to my right.
“There you are.” Paige’s voice is soft and timid.
So much for no one knowing I’m here. She takes a seat next to me, not too close, but close enough I can see her from the corner of my eye.
“Did you know that the palm trees shared the planet with dinosaurs? They’ve been around for over eighty million years,” she states the random fact while staring at the palm tree forest separating our villa from the ocean.
“Yet you see the ferns on the ground?” She points a finger at the green foliage between the trees.
“Next to them, the palm trees are practically babies.”
I don’t know what I expected her to say, but I hadn’t expected this. “How so?”
“They’re over three hundred and sixty million years old and one of the oldest plant species. They’re actually much older than dinosaurs.” She stares at the nature in front of us with awe.
“How do you know that?”
She shrugs. “I like plants. They’re fascinating.” She pauses for a second before continuing, “I wanted to apologize… for today.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. It was an honest mistake.” I dare to sneak a peek at her, and the sight of her flushed cheeks painted in the colors of the sunset punches the breath out of my lungs.
“Maybe.” She lets out a soft huff. “But I still practically sexually assaulted you.”
“You can assault me any time you want.” It was supposed to be a joke, but my nose scrunches as soon as it exits my mouth. “Sorry, that was bad.”
Luckily, she chuckles, the sound warm and honest. To keep myself from saying anything else, I light up the joint. I inhale a deep breath, and she lets out a gasp.
“Is that pot?” she whispers. “Are you smoking pot right now?”
“Well, I had to do something to erase today’s image from my mind,” I respond with a laugh. She slaps my shoulder playfully, and I like the feeling of her hand on me. “Kidding.” I lift the joint in the air. “It’s medicinal. I get really bad headaches.”
“Well, I for one haven’t smoked pot since college.”
This time, I turn fully toward her. Her hair is wild and messy, only adding to her beauty. “You smoked in college? I’d never guess.”
“Of course. I like plants, don’t I?” Her teasing tone pulls another smile out of me. Her voice turns to a whisper. “I might have even grown a plant or two.”
My eyes widen. “Really?”
“Don’t act so shocked.”
“You just don’t seem like the type.”
“Well, maybe I’m not anymore.” A hint of sadness creeps into those captivating eyes.
“Want to join me?” My hand reaches out, hoping she’ll take the offer.
Slowly, reluctantly, she does. With shaky but experienced fingers, she lifts the joint to her lips, taking a hit. It’s followed by a cute cough before she returns it. I take another hit. The fuzzy cover that was wrapped around my mind is already slipping off, the tension slowly loosening.
“So headaches, huh?”
“Yeah. Tension headaches, they call them. Triggered by stress, mostly.”
“Fuck, that’s like being allergic to oxygen. Stress is everywhere.”
Another laugh bubbles out of me. “Pretty much.”
“So, how do you do it? Avoid the stress?” She takes the joint from my hands, taking another hit.
“Well, so far I’ve quit my high-paid corporate job in San Francisco and moved back to Fig Bay to live with my mom.”
“Shit, Ryan. I didn’t know. I’m sorry for making assumptions.”
“Yeah, you sure did make assumptions,” I say lightheartedly.
She hands me the joint back, her gaze dropping to the palm trees below us. “My writing got so bad that I almost lost the one job I’ve always wanted. Now, to keep it, I have to write about trying out sex toys.”
“Oh, that’s what that is.” That gets me another slap on the shoulder.
“I was honest. The toys you delivered weren’t my idea. I was kind of forced into it.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“What do you mean?”
“Being forced to do something like that. I doubt it’s the reason you started writing.” She glances at me, her lips slightly parting. “What did you want to write about when you first started?”
“Travel writing.” Her voice is almost reluctant, her answer surprising me. I consider her a homebody.
“Why don’t you write about that?”
“I don’t really travel anymore.” Her answer scrunches my nose.
“Why not?”
“I grew out of it.” I don’t buy it for a second, but her gaze drops, letting me know I won’t be getting an honest answer.
“So you just stopped enjoying it?”
“It wasn’t realistic. It was just a dumb thing a young girl wanted to do. I’m too old for that now.”
“Are you?” I bump her shoulder with mine, and she levels me with a glare. “That means you’re stuck writing about sex toys, I guess.”
She chuckles. “I guess it does. Though, other than the few dreadfully humiliating moments in front of you, it hasn’t been that bad.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” I wink playfully, and she rolls her eyes.
The joint hisses quietly as I put it out in the ashtray that was provided on the balcony and get up to my feet. My hand reaches out to help her get up.
As soon as she stands, our hands still touching, I whisper, “If you ever need any help with it… I’m just a wall away.”
Her cheeks flush instantly. “You’re an idiot.”
She disappears into her room. I’m left standing there partially high, my headache finally gone, and my thoughts wrapped up in her.