Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ilias
The sun was just setting over the horizon, splashing colour across the sky and setting the ocean ablaze as Oscar and I made our way down to the beach for dinner.
A path of lanterns had been laid out for us, leading to a small table on the sand with two chairs at right angles to each other, facing the water so we could watch the last of the sunset. The table was surrounded by torches that hadn’t been lit yet.
It was a beautiful sight, and I almost tripped over my feet because I couldn’t stop staring. Oscar caught me by the elbow and chuckled as I righted myself with a grunt.
“I don’t think it would be the best start to the evening if you face-planted on the beach,” Oscar said dryly.
“How do you know that wasn’t my aim?”
“If that’s what you really want, next time I won’t stop you.”
I grinned as we were seated at the table, the soft, ocean breeze fluttering across my face. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”
“Dinner on a beach?”
“Yeah.”
Oscar shook his head. “No. It always seemed like one of those things people do on their honeymoons or anniversary trips. I suppose that’s why they’ve organised it for us since this article is supposed to encourage couples to come and stay here.”
“Shit,” I said suddenly. “I should take a picture of the set-up.” I had my camera with me since it had been pretty much glued to my hand for the past week, but I’d been so drawn in by the idea that this was for me that I’d totally forgotten to do my job.
“Quick, put everything back. Straighten the table. Then go and stand over there”—I pointed to a part of the shoreline where I knew he’d be out of the shot—“so you’ll be out of the way.” I waved my hands at Oscar like he was a stray pigeon I was trying to shoo away.
“Seriously? You could just ask them for a press shot. I’m sure they’ve got one.”
“Nope, my job is to give Marcus options , and if I don’t do that, Madelyn will have me blacklisted from The Traveller forever, and I’ll be forced to follow you around and annoy you… like a ghost but one who’s still alive. Now shoo!”
Oscar stood and shook his head, laughing as I nudged him away. He took his glass of wine and wandered along the shore as I straightened the table with the help of a lovely member of staff, who I made a mental note to tip very generously later. I’d make Oscar do it for laughing at me.
I darted up the beach, towards the path we’d come down, and snapped a few pictures. I was quickly starting to run out of light, and I hoped the pictures would look more atmospheric than shit. I cursed myself internally for forgetting about my job, but I’d been drawn in by the idea of such a romantic evening.
It made me sound like a sucker, and I’d have to come up with a more convincing excuse if Marcus asked me why there weren’t any good pictures of the set-up. I’d just blame the weather, that usually worked.
“Can I come back now?” Oscar called. He was sipping his glass of wine near the water’s edge, and I could have sworn there was a mischievous smile on his mouth as he watched me.
“Fine,” I said as I put the lens cap back in place and walked back to the table.
“You know,” he said as he settled himself back at the table, “there are more tables set up along the beach. You could have just taken a photo of one of them.”
I turned my head and noticed another couple of dining areas dotted along the sand, just far enough away from each other to give the diners privacy. Which was why I hadn’t noticed them. The one at the far end looked occupied, but the middle one was still empty. I sighed and raised an eyebrow at Oscar who was trying not to laugh.
“Really? You couldn’t have pointed that out earlier?”
“I thought you’d seen them!”
I snorted and shook my head. “Asshole.”
Oscar shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”
“Me too. But I’m not sure that’s appropriate dinner conversation,” I said, reaching for my glass and gazing out across the water. The sun was barely visible now, and a soft, purple darkness was starting to set in. Around us, golden light began to flicker into being as the staff lit the torches.
“You mean your family dinners don’t usually end in people insulting each other?” Oscar asked with a laugh.
“If they didn’t, I’d be worried. I’d assume someone had been abducted by aliens.” I sipped my wine. “It was why I wanted to avoid it for a change.”
“Fair enough.” There was a pause, then Oscar said, “You okay after yesterday?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I’d spent part of the afternoon bitching to him as we walked around Kona, lost ourselves in local art galleries, and paddled on the beach. By the time we’d gotten back to the hotel, I’d felt a lot better.
Today had also proved to be a wonderful distraction, as we’d spent it with a local cultural ambassador, John Kamakaonaona, who’d talked a lot about the history of the island and Hawaiian traditions and culture. He’d been incredibly interesting to listen to, adding warmth and weight to his words. It had given me an extra appreciation for this beautiful island and the people whose land it was. I felt humbled by their history and annoyed at myself for never really considering the history of colonisation in this part of the world.
Then again, the UK government had always been good at carefully erasing British colonisation from the history curriculum—at least while I was at school.
“Honestly,” I continued, “I’d have been surprised if there wasn’t any drama this week. There’s always something.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is, but they’re my family, so what can I do?” Oscar frowned but didn’t say anything. I sipped my wine and chuckled. “Okay, new topic. I feel like all I’ve done this week is bitch about my family.”
“It’s fine. I kind of understand, even if mine isn’t as dramatic as yours, although…” He grinned. “We’ve had our fair share. Like the time I dumped pasta salad over the head of one of Richard’s girlfriends.”
I stared at him, wide-eyed in shock and glee. “Excuse me. How have you not mentioned this before? I need details!”
“It’s not that exciting,” Oscar said. “Basically, he brought this woman to dinner, and bear in mind that before he met his fiancé, Richard had the shittiest taste in women. Anyway, turns out she was really into this aloe vera shit, and she kept trying to recruit us into her fucking pyramid scheme.”
“Ah, one of those.”
“Yeah.” Oscar chuckled, sitting back in his seat as our starters arrived: charcoal barbecued octopus with cucumber namasu. We thanked the staff before Oscar continued.
“Anyway, she soon realised none of us were interested so she tried to corner my brother Finn. He’s my youngest bio brother, and I just… I fucking hate people messing with him. He’s really quiet and shy, especially around new people, and I always get really fucking angry when people don’t leave him alone when they can see he’s uncomfortable. I mean, he’s an adult now, but I still think of him as that toddler who used to hold my t-shirt and suck his thumb and follow me around like a little duckling.”
He shook his head and reached for his cutlery. “Long story short, the woman wouldn’t leave him alone, wouldn’t let Finn get a word in edgeways, and ignored me when I told her to back off. So I picked up the bowl of pasta salad from the middle of the table and tipped it over her head. Not really sure why, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Unable to keep a straight face any longer, I burst out laughing. “Fucking hell! That’s amazing. I wish I’d thought of something like that before when my cousins were being dickheads. What sort of pasta salad was it? What did everyone say?”
“Er… I think it was a pesto one?” Oscar thought for a second. “Yeah, it was definitely green. And it had cherry tomatoes in. I felt really bad afterwards because I should have tried something else and what I’d done was such a dick move. I offered to pay for her dry cleaning, and I apologised a lot, but it didn’t really do much good. I think Richard was this close to punching me, but he didn’t. He punched Eli last year though.”
“Why?”
“Because Eli is dating Richard’s best friend. They’re actually really cute together. But Richard and Eli have always butted heads. They’re the right age gap for it. Richard and I were never close, but we never fought because we were too evenly matched. Jules is a girl and would definitely kick all our asses, and Finn and Lewis were the babies. Eli can be a proper shithead sometimes, and he and Richard are total opposites, so it was bound to happen.”
“See? Your family is just like mine. Just smaller,” I said.
Oscar laughed. “Is that a good or bad thing?”
“Not sure, but it’s nice to meet someone who gets it.”
Oscar nodded, and our conversation turned to the food, which was incredible as always. The octopus was followed by an ocean grill with ahi tuna, mahi mahi, shutome, and uku plus a variety of vegetable sides and a couple of delicious sauces including a yuzu kosho butter than I’d kill to be able to take home in a bucket.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked randomly as I picked up some tuna with my fork. There was a question floating around in my mind that had been nagging at me for weeks, but I’d never considered giving it a voice before now.
“Sure.”
“Why did you offer to write an article aimed at couples if you’re not actually in one? I mean this is lovely,” I said, gesturing around at the setting, “but wouldn’t you have rather spent it with someone you were actually dating?”
Oscar frowned, and in the glow of the torchlight, I could swear he was blushing. “It’s a good question,” he said slowly.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want. I realise it might be really personal.” Perhaps Oscar had skeletons in his cupboard the way I did. Although considering what had happened to me, that was probably a poor metaphor.
“No, it’s fine. Mostly it was a miscommunication. I told Madelyn how my brothers were starting to settle down and how I could only recommend a few places for them to go on holiday and that I wanted a series that really focused on safe places for queer couples since the magazine never really considers that when it recommends destinations. And I think something I said must have given her the wrong idea because she told me she’d send me and my partner…” He shook his head and reached for a piece of mahi mahi. “That and the fact her niece got engaged to her girlfriend and gently pointed out the same problem to Madelyn when she began recommending places for their honeymoon. So it had a personal connection for her, and I think Madelyn just put two and two together and made five, and I’m definitely not the person to tell her she was wrong.”
“Yeah,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “I wouldn’t either.” I’d known some of what Oscar had said, but the Madelyn information was new. It made perfect sense though, and I was glad he hadn’t told me about it earlier or the weight of expectation might have crushed me.
“As for the boyfriend thing… well, you know how hard this job is on relationships, and for me…” He pursed his lips like he was thinking about saying something. I didn’t interrupt his thoughts. “For me things can be harder because I’m demisexual.”
He was looking at me with fierce eyes and a clenched jaw like he was daring me to say something. But all it did was give me another piece of my Oscar puzzle, one that was bright and shining and seemed to magically connect so many of the other pieces.
“It means I don’t experience sexual attraction without feeling a strong emotional connection to someone. I can’t just do quick hook-ups, and with my job, people don’t usually want to give me a chance. I’m gone too much to make a relationship worth the effort.”
I nodded, choosing my next words carefully.
“Thank you for telling me,” I said as I gave Oscar my warmest smile. “Your reasoning makes a lot of sense, and I can imagine that some people are quite… shitty about it.” Oscar raised an eyebrow, so I continued.
“My cousin Zo? is aro ace, and we’ve talked about it several times. She’s very happy, but people are still dicks about it. They don’t believe her. They tell her she hasn’t met the right man and that everyone wants to fall in love.” I toyed with a piece of shutome.
“I can believe people must say similar things to you. And I can imagine it hurts.” I bit my lip. “I’m really sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable with all my flirting.”
“Actually,” said Oscar, “it’s been… nice.” He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s the right word, but you don’t need to apologise, Ilias.”
He reached out across the table and brushed his fingers against my wrist.