Chapter 1 #2
There’s some silence after that, and it makes me think of that one night we had. It was so good it had me looking for her, but Kaye knows how to hide when she needs to.
She speaks up. “I heard you’re thinking about going on that ship.” No preamble. She just cuts straight through one of my favorite NSFW daydreams—her grabbing my collar and calling me a good boy.
I sigh. “No ‘how’ve you been’ or ‘you look stunning in that tux’? Frankly, I’m offended.” I pout. “Didn’t realize I had to get permission to pack my bags for a cruise you’re paying for.”
“Oh, please, you’ve been mentally packing since Elle wore her engagement ring.”
“I was mentally packing since she borrowed Sterling’s flannel and never gave it back.”
Kaye cocks her head. “So that’s what broke you? A flannel?”
“That flannel saw me naked. It should’ve been burned in a ceremony.”
She giggles. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”
“Takes one to ride one.”
“For a guy who flirts with death,” she says, smirking, “you moaned like a soprano when I rode you.”
I slap a hand over my heart. “You remember our night together that well?”
“Oh, Stanley. I still get echoes in my thighs when I take the stairs too fast.”
I wheeze a laugh. God, I needed that. Morbid humor’s my favorite drug. Probably the only thing holding my fractured ego together.
Kaye eyes me, more serious this time. “So you’re really considering going on that ship?”
I shrug. The words come out of me sarcastic. “Yeah, why not? Open sea, syringes, and science. Real relaxing getaway.”
She shakes her head. “Do you even know what you’re signing up for? Long days floating on the Red Sea. Run by the Adels and their neuroscience golden girl.”
“Apparently, she’s brilliant and emotionally unavailable, so my exact type, but with a PhD.”
Kaye levels me with a look that screams criticism. “So you’re launching yourself onto a floating trauma lab because you can’t stop falling for people who never pick you back.”
My ego takes another hit. But I bark out a laugh. “Better than watching Damon and Sterling loot you and Elle like legendary drops while I act like I’m not a glitchy NPC in the background.”
She doesn’t deny it. She just sips her drink. Then she says, “I get it. More than you think.”
“Because I talk too much during head?”
“No!” She flicks my forehead. “Because sarcasm’s my hazmat suit too. Because I’ve fucked the wrong people to forget I wanted the right one. And because I know what it’s like to be left behind and pretend you’re fine while the ship sinks.”
“That’s too many metaphors, even for you, Kaye.” I pout, rubbing my forehead. “Also, ow!”
She sighs and says, “Before I hashed things out with them, my parents were the ones sinking that metaphoric ship that was my entire life, up until I met Dae.”
I give her a look. One that says same boat. Or ship. Whatever. Kaye and I have shared our bodies with each other. Now, trauma too, I guess. “Fuck, Kaye. I didn’t know you could get any hotter.”
She groans. “Ugh, stop it with that shit, and listen, would ya?”
I smirk. “Didn’t know you being dominant was on the table today. You’re lucky I’m wearing pants.”
She groans again. “What I’m trying to say is…”
She stops to take a deep breath. Her eyes close with it, but they open up with a look I’ve never seen on Kaye before. She’s usually making jokes with me, but right now, all I see is a friend who’s seriously concerned.
“You won’t sink, Stan,” she says with a small smile. “Go on your little science kink cruise. Just make sure you’ve got your back covered. You’re still my favorite regret, you know.”
I scoff, still pouting. “Bet you say that to all your one-night stands.”
“Only the ones with stamina.” She pats my chest. Her hand lingers there, like she’s trying to see if this battered heart of mine still beats. “We do care. Even if we suck at saying it.”
I’m almost afraid to ask, but I do anyway. “Who’s we?”
“Me. Dae. Elle. Even Sterling.”
I blink, a little thrown. So I do what I do best—deflect. “If you kiss me right now, I’ll be your good boy and stay.”
She arches her brow. “Stan, baby, you wouldn’t survive another round with me. You’d have a better chance of surviving that Kys cruise.”
I bark a laugh.
She turns to leave. “Poor Em has no idea what she’s in for,” I hear her mutter.
“Same here,” I murmur, watching her go back to Damon, who points his icy gaze at me.
This time, I don’t go back to my seat. I walk away from the celebration, where the white sand meets the blue sea. And start picturing it red.
***
A few more hours pass, the moon’s out, and the party’s nearly dead. The people aren’t though, but the mood’s winding down with the last drunk uncle belting his heart out at a karaoke machine. Woulda been me, but the dude hogged it all evening.
Besides, I’m far into the beach, and I’ve ditched my shoes somewhere. The sand’s cool under my toes.
I don’t even turn when I hear light footsteps behind me. Instead, I dig my toes into the sand.
“Hey,” Elle whispers once she’s close.
“Thought I was about to be sneaked on and stabbed at,” I tell her.
She giggles. I stare at her and see she’s barefoot too. Breeze flowing her dress. Burn scars slightly pink on her legs under the moonlight. Heels in one hand. Long brown hair loose. And that look, so concerned over something. Fuck, is it me? Kaye must’ve talked to her. Great.
“I wasn’t trying to be sneaky,” Elle says, smiling a little more. “And I don’t carry weapons. Unless you count the knife I used to slice the cake?”
Her voice is as easy as nostalgia is. And just as dangerous. Especially when it’s twisted with addictive Kys and actual kisses.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I say, barely above a mumble. “You’re the bride. You should be doing, y’know, married things with what’s-his-face.”
“I wanted to check on you first,” she says, standing beside me. There’s nothing between us but the sea and that scent I know too well. Chamomile and honey. The tea Sterling always makes for her.
She’s close enough that I could reach out to her. But I don’t. Don’t need to. “I’m okay,” I lie. “I’ve got pork belly and ube cake digesting deep in my soul.”
She doesn’t laugh, but she almost does. I can hear it in the breath she holds back.
The waves roll in. She watches them. But I watch her.
She looks so good in white. She looked good in white sheets too. Back when it was messy and all sorts of wrong and all kinds of right. Sterling must’ve hated sharing her with me, but I loved every second of it. I didn’t mind being the second choice, as long as I was a choice.
But I wrote myself off. Being with me was never Elle’s choice. My mother forced it on us.
Closing my eyes, I feel a chill run down my spine that has nothing to do with the evening breeze.
“You’ve always been good at hiding the way you feel,” she says.
“What can I say?” My eyes blink open and curve with my grin. “I’m gifted at lying to myself.”
She glances over. “Kaye told me about the ship.”
I smirk, deflect mode on. “She also tell you she and I banged once?”
“She did. She said you were loud.”
I snort, chin in the air. “I like to make my presence known.”
“What about when you’re about to leave?”
I shrug. My shoulders feel heavier than I want to admit. “Seems better than sticking around. Letting the withdrawals win. Watching my best friends be with my brothers.”
When our eyes meet, I hate how sad she looks, and that I’m the cause of it. That’s what gives me this itch in my throat. Feels like a scream I’ve been swallowing since September. Since I let Elle go because it was the right thing to do.
I try to breathe evenly. But my throat feels too dry.
All I want to be is worth something. To her. To my family. Even to my mom, locked in her coma like her hospital room’s a luxury suite. She should be here to see this—us trying to claw our way back from what she tried to wreck but didn’t. Except maybe me. Maybe I’m fucked up beyond repair.
Then Elle smiles wider. It’s not too much of a stretch, but it’s so real. And for some reason, it’s aimed at me.
“I’m glad you’re sharing and accepting your feelings, Stan,” she whispers. “But that doesn’t mean you have to disappear.”
“Yeah—I—” My voice cracks despite my best efforts. But I keep going. Because she’s still here. Because she’s still listening. “I think…I need this, Elle. I need space. I need help.”
She nods. It’s small. But it means everything. “If you ever need anything else…” she starts.
I cut her off. “Call you? Sure. Right after Sterling guts me and dumps me in the water.”
She laughs. I can’t help it. I laugh too. It’s a fucked-up joke. But it works for us.
After a moment, we face the water again. We don’t need anything more than this. I sure don’t.
Elle’s beside me, quiet as the sea. But my heart’s loud enough for the both of us. Right over that beating, beat-up thing is her initial in ink.
I’m leaving soon, but she’ll stay right here. And all I can think is damn, I should’ve jerked off before the ceremony. Maybe I wouldn’t be such a jealous, emotional horndog then, huh?