16. SYDNEY
16
SYDNEY
The sound of strangers strolling through the park silences the moment he places a copy of The Princess Bride in my lap. Not just any copy but one of the original covers from the seventies.
“My mom had it packed away. When I told her I wanted to read it, she went up into the attic and pulled it out for me. I know I shouldn’t have written in it but I didn’t want to forget.” His eyes glaze over watching as I trace my finger over the cover.
My heart beats hard against my chest and my palms are slick with moisture. I have to wipe them off on the blanket before I open the cover. “What did you want to remember?”
“All your favorite parts,” he whispers. I can’t even bear to look at him. If I do, I know I’ll kiss him. That might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.
Slowly opening the book, I turn the pages over until I reach the first chapter. With a blue ink pen he has crossed out the name Buttercup and written in mine right above it in scratchy handwriting .
Memories I wasn’t prepared for hit me hard enough to knock the wind out of me and leave me struggling to catch my breath. Reading through Koa’s footnotes I’m brought back to days I spent pretending to be a princess.
Not just any princess. His princess. In my mind and heart, I was always his even if he didn’t feel the same way.
As if moving in slow motion, the tree line surrounding us lights up one at a time. The forest comes alive with millions of twinkling lights. Our willow tree begins to glow from the inside as well.
It feels magical and surreal. Sitting here in the dark, under an enchanted tree lit by what feels like millions of little sprites, with the prince I lost years ago.
“Will you read to me?” he asks, pulling me tighter against him. I inhale a deep breath, taking in his ocean scent. I’m on the edge of the cliff and I have to make a choice. Do I dive back in or do I take a step back?
His question is simple and should come with an easy yes or no. But, nothing about us is simple or easy anymore. Reading to Koa was never about the words on the page. It was having his full attention.
It was being the center of his world for a moment in time. It was having him look at me like I was the most incredible thing he’s set his eyes on. He shifts behind me and places his hand on my thigh.
The same electrifying sensation I felt earlier in the car runs up and down the length of my leg. The fear of him walking away a second time weighs heavily on my heart. It’s crushing and too influential. It has me saying no when I want to look in his eyes and say yes.
“Maybe we should walk around.” I sit upright and hand him the book back. He doesn’t reach for it. His brow furrows as he looks at my face and back down at the book.
Sighing, he says, “Take it. I want you to have it.” He stands and starts busying himself with cleaning our small mess.
I put the book in my bag for safe keeping and exit the safe cocoon of the willow tree. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes meet mine through the branches. The warm lighting from the trees illuminates his large silhouette and makes his face glow. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m pushing you too hard.” He releases an irritated groan then steps through the branches and stands in front of me. “Don’t let me push you away.”
I bite down on my lip to keep myself from telling him that could never happen. As much as I say I’m moving and walking away for good, it’s an empty threat. It’s like me saying I’ll only stay up and read one more chapter, but then the enemies turn to lovers. Next thing I know it’s three in the morning and I have class in five hours.
“We can’t recreate the past. We need to move forward. I have to move forward.” I grab one side of the blanket as he grabs the other end.
We each hold an end and walk toward each other. “Then we move forward together.” He bends and grabs the other side of the blanket and backs up .
We walk toward each other again. “What if I’m not ready?” I ask, unsure if I want to know his answer.
He takes the blanket and tucks it under his arm. With his other hand he cups my neck and grazes my cheek with his thumb. “Then we stand still and wait until you are. I’m not going anywhere.”
My hand wraps around his wrist. His pulse beats steady beneath my fingertips. My heart is rioting but I’m not sure where I stand in this fight. Are we conceding? Or are we going to stand our ground? My gut is telling me to give him this.
“Okay,” I agree, putting some distance between us. He nods, slings his backpack over his shoulder, and readjusts the blanket under his arm.
I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to. Is this our fresh start at a romantic relationship? Are we picking up where we left off? Or did I agree to see if we can have a friendship that someday leads to more?
Friends with Koa? We may have labeled our relationship that way, but we’ve always been more.
His hand slipping into mine is like putting on a favorite sweater. There’s this unexplainable comfort from knowing he has a hold of me. That he’s right there if I need him.
We stroll back the way we came. This time there is a lot more to see. Hidden beyond the pathways there are little creatures made of lights that scamper across the ground and up trees. It feels like we’re walking through a Grimm’s Brothers Fairy Tale .
“I wasn’t trying to recreate the past,” he says, stopping outside the row of makeshift cottages we passed earlier. He turns his head in every direction observing our surroundings. “I wanted one more adventure with you. With the girl who taught me about fairies and other realms when all I knew about was catching baseballs.”
Affection shines in his eyes and it warms me to my core. This isn’t the same man who has been growling and grunting at me for the last four years. This man is sweet and soft, but also strong.
I could tell him that I’m done for good or that I needed a year to see if I can make it on my own. He would still be standing steady waiting for me. How can he be sure about me now? He said we were a mistake. I heard it with my own two ears but what if that’s not what he meant.
Shaking the thought out of my head. If he wanted me then, he would have said something. Right?
“Should we go in? Our adventure awaits,” I say, ignoring my protruding thoughts. Because if what I’m thinking is correct, then the fallout of everything that happened is my fault, not his. And he’s taken the blame without complaint this whole time.
“As you wish,” he says, gesturing toward the door of the first cottage. I suck in a harsh breath and rein in the tears that want to form. We are not doing that now.
I’ve forgotten how much that little phrase made me smile. I went to bed at night pretending that those words held the same meaning as it did in the book but I knew better than to believe in that fairy tale.
It did become an inside joke between the two of us. It didn’t matter who asked us to do something, we both would always answer ‘ as you wish .’ It drove Nash crazy. He didn’t like being left out. It was one thing I shared with Koa that I got to keep to myself.
Inside the cottage, there are two tables filled with different paints and stencils for face painting. Children are lined up on either side of the tables while their parents attempt to turn them into unicorns, princesses, and kings.
Koa gets in line and I giggle. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? You can paint whatever you want on me.”
I glide up to him in line. “That is a dangerous offer. Are you sure you trust me?”
Koa sits in the chair that a newly crowned princess just vacated. He drops all of his stuff at his feet and pushes it underneath the chair.
His knees spread apart inviting me closer. “My body is yours. Do your worst,” he says, spreading his arms wide.
Heat rushes to the surface of my skin. Clearing my throat, I focus my attention on all the various colors of paint. It’s much safer than looking at the guy with a pair of slanted brown eyes and cut jawline.
Oh God, I can’t paint his face. My cheeks will flush. I’ll start to sweat. No way will I survive the five minutes—minimum— needed to paint something decent on his face with him staring back at me .
I turn my head enough to gaze at him out of the corner of my eye. Of course he's already looking at me. He is always watching me. I was under the impression it was out of allegiance to my brother but now it seems it was to satisfy his own needs.
I would be lying if the thought of me satisfying his needs didn’t make me feel a little wet and needy myself.
That thought puts wind in my sails and knocks me down a flight of stairs at the same time. I wasted years believing my attraction was one sided. He had to know how I felt about him? Why didn’t he ever say anything?
I gather a few paints in various shades of blue, purple, and white. Then I turn back toward Koa. “Some of my favorite books are based on Greek mythology.” I undo the top button of his shirt, revealing more of the white shirt he’s wearing underneath. “Are you familiar with any of their stories?”
His eyes flit around the room, checking to see if anyone is paying attention to us.
“No one is watching,” I whisper, stepping closer in between his legs, while continuing to unbutton his shirt.
“Yes.” His voice is huskier than before. I pull on one of his sleeves and help him out of the right side of his shirt. I leave the sleeve dangling behind him as I push up the sleeve on his white T-shirt until it’s rolled tight over his shoulder. His skin pebbles as I glide my hand over the cut lines of his biceps and over the line of tattoos he already has on his arm. They are the perfect canvas for what I want to draw.
“They believe the constellations immortalize their stories.” Holding the pot of blue paint in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, I carefully start drawing on Koa’s upper arm. “That the stars serve as a reminder of their legacy.” I exchange the blue paint for white.
“Stars represent truth and destiny. They are constant and reliable.” I continue to paint stars on his arm in an array of shapes and sizes. “You can even use stars for navigation to help guide you to where you need to be.”
I blow gently on his arm encouraging the paint to dry faster. Koa’s eyes shutter closed and he grabs my thigh for support. I write out a few words in between the clusters of stars.
“No matter what. Our story will be remembered in the stars.” I barely get the words out before my emotions get the best of me. Giving him my back, I busy myself cleaning off the paint filled brushes with a baby wipe they have available.
“Sydney,” he pleads, grabbing my elbow urging me to turn around. His face begins to blur as tears pool in my eyes. “No matter what,” he says. The warmth and softness in his voice dull a few of the sharp edges of my heart.
“No matter what,” I repeat.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and passes it to me. “Can you take a picture for me?” he asks. I nod and snap a quick photo of his arm before handing his phone back. The corner of his mouth twitches, forming half a smile before he puts the phone away.
“Do you like it?” I can’t help asking.
“I love it. Switch places with me.” He grabs hold of my waist and helps spin me around. Once I’m settled, I wait patiently for Koa to get started. The way his eyes wander over my body feels like he is stripping me bare.
“What are you going to paint?”
“At first I was thinking about a crown.” His pointer finger slips underneath my bangs and pushes them to the side. “But I don’t want to get paint in your hair,” he says, as my curls bounce back into place.
I had my hair in braids last semester. As soon as I took them out, I had an itch to cut bangs. It’s usually something I would do and regret but I’ve loved the way they frame my face. I’m even more grateful knowing they are saving me from having Koa within kissing distance. If he were that close, nothing could stop me from staring at his plush lips. I shouldn’t be thinking about his lips or kissing him. One of his kisses will only make me want more.
He pulls out another chair and sets it in front of me. Before he sits down he selects a pot of red paint. His finger glides down the side of my neck and over the top of my cleavage. I’m afraid to move, to breathe.
“How about a pretty little necklace?” he asks, placing his hand at the base of my neck. “Would you like that, baby?”
Instinctively I lift my chin and push my throat against the side of his thumb and pointer finger. “I think I might.”
Koa’s eyes darken and the muscles in his jaw flex as he grinds his teeth. His thumb brushes against the sensitive skin at the base of my throat. “Maybe next time. Can you hold out your hands for me?”
“Sure,” I agree. I would say yes to anything he asked at this point. I’m so turned on. I’m not proud of how easily I’m falling back in line with him. A few sweet words and I’m ready to fall at his feet.
He tenderly takes my empty hands in his, flipping them where my palms are facing the ceiling. Silently he dips the brush in the paint and begins to spread paint on the inner part of my palm where my hands are touching.
My right hand flinches without warning. “Tickles,” I say, when he pauses and looks at me with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m almost finished. I’m not much of an artist.” He puckers his lips and a slow breath of air skates over my hands sending shivers down my spine. “Done.” He leans back and discards the brush on the table with the others.
“It’s a heart,” I say, lining up my pinkies and cupping my hands. It’s uneven and a little wonky but it’s definitely a heart.
“It’s my heart.”
In the palm of my hands . The unsaid words hang in the air.
“You’re going to make me fall in love with you again, aren’t you?” I whisper.
“Again?” he asks with raised eyebrows and a hint of a smile.
“We should probably go look around before it gets too late.” I stand abruptly.
He crowds me and blocks my escape. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to make you wonder why you ever stopped loving me in the first place.” He steps aside letting me pass .
Inhaling deep breaths, I take a moment to collect myself. I’m afraid his plan is already beginning to work. I’ve been carrying around years of feeling betrayed and hurt. Why am I torturing myself? Is he really the only one at fault? Maybe some of the heat should fall on me. Regardless, it’s becoming a burden and I’m tired.
“Are you ready?” he asks, coming up behind me. His palm presses against my lower back. For the first time in years, his touch feels comforting instead of commanding. In the past, I felt like he was leading me around like a child.
His eyes fill with concern as he waits for my response.
“Yes,” I answer. Am I saying yes to him? To us? I don’t know. I think I’m saying yes to trying. To figuring it out. To putting one foot in front of the other and seeing where that takes me.
Because as much as I’ve been trying to move forward, I’ve been stuck in one place. Maybe the only way to truly get over Koa is to date him.
We walk around the gardens, taking in the lights and the people. Everywhere you turn there is something hidden in the lush greenery. Little details straight from a fairy tale.
Conversation is minimal, and I don’t know if it’s because neither one of us knows what to say or if we’re enjoying the ambiance. I’m walking beside someone I’ve known half my life but at times I feel like I barely know him at all anymore.
While we’ve spent time in each other’s presence, we have never fully let our guard down around each other the past few years.
“Look!” I shout, pointing at a photo booth they have tucked in between oversized hydrangeas, making it appear like it belongs in the middle of a secret garden. “We have to do it.”
“The pictures never turn out good. I never know when they are taking the photo,” he grumbles.
“That’s half the fun. Come on.” I take hold of his bicep and drag him toward the booth.
“You said that the last time we did one of these,” he says, dropping to the bench and placing our stuff on the floor in front of him. He leans forward and pulls out his wallet from his back pocket to pay for our impromptu photoshoot.
“I did?” I squeeze in next to him. We awkwardly shift our bodies trying to get comfortable. “These things aren’t as big as they used to be,” I say, laughing at my awkwardness.
“They’re the same size. We’ve gotten older,” he says, taking control and putting his arm around me. I’m forced to lean into him. “And yes, you did. At my fourteenth birthday party.”
“I think I blocked most of that day out of my memory.” After embarrassing myself with my bowling skills, I wanted to forget the whole day. “Look at the camera,” I tell him.
The screen counts down and the camera flashes. “You didn’t look. You don’t have to smile but you have to at least look.” I straighten my hair and position myself in a different angle for the next shot.
“I am looking. I’ve been looking for years,” he murmurs. I slant my head enough to see his face. His eyes are soft and his mouth is curled in a boyish smile. “I almost kissed you that day.”
“What?” I rear my head back. He catches it in his palm and slides his hand down to the nape of my neck. His fingers weave in between my hair. “Why would you want to do that? You didn’t even want me there.”
The flash of the camera goes off momentarily blinding me. “I don’t know what gave you that idea. I wanted you there.”
“But you were mad when I ruined your party.”
“I was mad at all my so-called friends for laughing at you and making you upset.” His hand grips me tighter, pulling me an inch closer to him.
“So when you said ‘I guess you can come if you want’ while you and Nash were planning the party…”
Koa drops his head. “I never should have said that. I was trying hard to not be obvious in front of Nash. I went to bed praying every night that you would be there.”
“I see.”
“I don’t think you do. Not yet, but I’m going to show you. I’m going to show you everything if you’ll let me. Whoever this other guy is…”
“I’m not really thinking about him right now,” I admit.
“That’s good to hear.” He smirks, dropping his hand to my leg. “We only have a few photos left. We better make them count.”
“Are you going to smile this time?”
He shakes his head. “I’m going to kiss you this time.” He leans closer. Any oxygen left in the tiny booth is gone now.
“You’ve kissed me before,” I say, flicking my tongue over my lips.
“I’ve never kissed you the way I wanted to.” His breath tickles my nose.
“And how’s that?” I can barely form the words, it’s so hard to breathe.
“Like you’re mine.” Koa slowly leans toward my face. Closing my eyes, my heart races waiting for him to make contact.
When his mouth presses into mine, I’m practically levitating out of my seat. This isn’t like the kiss at Ray’s. That was a performance. It was collateral damage to get that creep to back off and leave me alone.
This kiss is a claiming. There is power behind it. His fingers push further into my hair, controlling the way I’m positioned as he alternates nipping at my lips. I don’t know which way is up or down anymore. All I know is I need to be closer to him.
It’s hard to move in this small space but I manage to slip one arm behind his back and the other around his neck.
A moan slips out of me when my breasts press against his chest. He swipes his tongue across the seam of my mouth and I’m lost completely in the taste of him .
The camera flashes and I pull away smiling. He doesn’t give me more than a millisecond to catch my breath before he’s back on me again. Our tongues tangle and explore each other’s mouths.
With every swipe of his tongue, he deepens the kiss. For years I’ve been holding on to old memories of what I thought it felt like to be kissed by Koa Mahina.
My memories have failed me because I don’t remember his kisses feeling like this. This feels like he’s rewriting every misstep, every angry look, or hurtful word with the swipe of his tongue against mine.
Maybe that’s his super power. He has the ability to administer temporary amnesia with a single kiss. Slowly, I drag myself away from him. He groans, making me laugh.
“I wasn’t finished with you,” he says, pulling me closer and popping another kiss on my mouth.
Eyes squinted and brows furrowed, his gaze lingers on me. Examining the effect of our kiss. His mouth curves into a smug smile when his eyes land on my lips. He’s pleased with how swollen they are I’m sure.
When we were kids, occasionally Koa and I could talk across a room with various eye movements or head shakes. It was a skill we developed after we got in trouble one too many times.
Every time our parents would interrogate us we would blink once for yes and blink twice for no, making sure our stories matched up. There were also winks, eye rubs, yawns, and ear tugs .
I want to give him the signal that everything is okay, but I’m not certain it is. I wring my hands in my lap. It’s too quiet. There’s nothing but the sound of us breathing, the occasional person walking by, and all the thoughts running through my head.
“Sydney,” he says, breaking the silence.
“I wonder what the photos look like.” Ignoring him, I stand and slice through the curtain. Why is it harder to breathe now that I’m away from him? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I inhale a few deep breaths of fresh air.
He says my name again.
“I hope there's at least one of you smiling.” I fish our strip of photos out of the dispenser. Distancing myself further from Koa, I stroll down the path and examine the photos.
“Syd, stop.” He grabs hold of my shoulder and spins me around. His hand cups my cheek. “We’re done running, remember? We’re either standing still or we’re moving forward together. There’s no more running.”
Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being called baby and having the person you’ve loved for most your life finally wanting you back.
I can easily see myself careening back into Koa’s atmosphere if I allowed myself the freedom to do so. However, in the back of mind I keep thinking about my online mystery man. I can’t deny the fluttery feelings I get when I’m talking to him.
Do I give Koa and I another try or do I take my chances on something new?