Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
Bhanu
I vaguely remembered having drunk so much water that my egregiously small bladder had dragged me out of a dead sleep to pee two, maybe three, times.
I stomped back to bed in the dark. It wasn’t pitch-black. Light seeped in through the gaps at the edges of the curtains. With a burp, I plopped into bed and rolled onto my side, hitting a fortress of pillows.
I shoved them back. They didn’t budge. Another shove, a much harder one after that, followed by an annoyed, throaty, “What, Bane?”
I almost shrieked as I shot up in bed. “Sunny?”
“Yes?”
“Why are you…” Oh, right. Kimo’s brother had crashed on the couch and Sunny had come in late. Drunk. And…had been flirting with me?
I groaned. Whatever. I was too dang tired, and by the silence, Sunny was, too.
But there was a man sleeping next to me. Not a boyfriend. Not even a friend. Not quite a stranger, but a coworker nemesis. I peered over at him. Sunny was hidden behind the fortress of pillows. He’d had at least followed the one rule I’d given his drunk butt last night.
“Are you watching me?” His voice was a low, gravelly grumble. And it did some funny things to my insides, tying them up into knots constricting and releasing in slow, pleasant tugs.
“You’re protected by the fortress,” I replied.
“I didn’t want to get knocked the hell out.”
I bit my lip. “Good memory for a drunk.”
“Almost drunk,” he corrected.
“Seemed pretty much there to me.”
“You’ve not seen many drunks, have you?”
“No.”
“What a protected life you lead.”
“Do I have to deal with you stumbling in, in the middle of the night, almost drunk again?”
“Hopefully I get a room.”
“You probably won’t. Might as well just stay here.”
Sunny poked his head up from behind the fortress, his hair adorably disheveled and his eyes as low and brooding as they had been last night. “Why wouldn’t I get a room?”
“You’re not the only person needing one, and you have a place to stay…so…let someone else have a room.”
He watched me, perplexed. “You’re inviting me to stay the entire trip?”
“Yes. I doubt you’ll get a room as nice as this.” I lay on my side and watched his expression turn from sleepy to wary to thoughtful.
“You don’t even know how long I’m staying.”
“When do you fly out?”
“The wedding is on Saturday, and I leave on Sunday.”
I shrugged. “It’s a couple more days. You’re not in the worst situation. The invitation is there. I’m more concerned about some poor family or an actual couple who has no place to go.”
“That’s considerate.”
“You’re welcome.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Thanks, Bane. You’re all right.”
I shoved the pillow between us into his face. “I thought I was pumpkin and edible.”
He laughed into the pillow, pushing it away in a quick game of back-and-forth until he pulled it away. There was a breach in the fortress, and no barrier between our top halves. Not that the bed was small by any means, but a gaping reminder that, holy crap, a man was in my bed.
“I don’t think I said that,” he replied.
“You definitely did, almost drunk Sunny.”
His eyes closed. “What time is it?”
“Time for you to get a watch.”
“Funny.”
“Why should I move to answer your question? Where’s your phone?”
He fumbled around, slapping his butt, then his side, slipping his phone out of his pocket. The screen illuminated his face. “It’s past nine. We’re supposed to meet up at eleven to go hiking.”
“In your post-drunk state? Don’t they know you’re an old man?”
“Screw me.”
“Am I still expected to go?”
He pried open one eye. “You don’t want to?”
“You sound disappointed.”
“My friends like you.”
I pushed myself onto my elbow and tapped his nose. “That’s because I’m freaking lovable.”
“Right. It’s just me…”
“You’re the only person on this entire island who doesn’t like me, so you do the math. I know you’re good at it.”
“Smart-ass.”
I sat up and stretched, acutely aware of Sunny watching me. And for some unknown reason—because, one, I wasn’t trying to show off, and two, this wasn’t on instinct—I raised my arms above my head and arched my back.
Sunny grumbled something inaudible.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he muttered, rolling away and heading to the bathroom. “I…need to shower.”
“I’ll heat up leftovers.”
“I thought those were for me,” he said as he passed through the opened bathroom door.
“You snooze, you lose.”
While Sunny took a speedy shower, I had leftovers heated and was plating up.
“That was fast,” I told him when he emerged from the bedroom.
“Didn’t want you to eat all the food.”
He grabbed a plate and helped himself. “Where’s everyone?”
“They must’ve all left this morning. It’s Thursday…so at least two of them have work.”
Kimo was likely to have left with Diya, which meant Kimo had dragged his brother out, too.
“This does taste better heated up,” he confessed, which had me wondering how drunk he’d been to remember our conversation last night. And if he remembered everything. What he’d said, the way he’d looked at me, like he wanted to try some of this edible pumpkin.
My skin tingled. It was just the thought, not the man. No one had paid any special attention to me in a while. No one had spent this much time in close quarters, alone, in a while. And maybe I was reading too much. That book Diya lent me was a rom-com, and rom-coms had some great sexual tension and provocative imagery.
Alas, Sunny was not it. He couldn’t be, and if he somehow was, he could never know.
He constantly checked his phone and I asked, “Trying not to work, huh?”
“Yeah, but not just that.”
“Wedding stuff?”
“Some of it.”
I watched him until he finally put his phone away. “Is everything okay?”
He scratched his forehead. “Checking in on my family. They say I worry too much, and that’s one hundred percent true.”
“Tell me about them, your family.”
“You don’t need to know.”
“What if someone asks: How’s so-and-so? And I have no idea to whom they’re referring. Your sister, mom, aunt, cousin, child?”
“I don’t have children.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“We should get going.” He washed the dishes and I put away dwindling leftovers.
We were several minutes down the street when I asked again, “Your family?”
“No. Respect the rules.”
I squinted up at him. Sunshine rained down on his profile, which was a pleasant one to look at, not going to lie. He had fluffy, wavy hair that kept falling over his forehead, a straight nose, attractive lips, and one firm jaw. His neck was thick and fit perfectly onto a pair of broad shoulders.
He side-eyed me, never missing a step. “Admiring my presence?”
“Would you rather I tell you about my many lovers…in case someone asks who so-and-so whisking me away is?”
His jaw hardened, the muscle at the joint contracting. “Do you seriously have benefit buddies here?”
“Would you like to know? I can tell you about all seven of them. Current ones. The past ones don’t matter. But only if you tell me about your family.”
“The hell?”
I smirked. “Are you bothered that your nemesis gets so much more than you?”
“You’re obviously lying.”
“You’re obviously bothered.”
“I’m unbothered.”
“Hmm,” I hummed, merrily walking alongside this tall, brooding giant who noticeably side-eyed me every other minute.
He grunted. “Fine.”
And then he proceeded to tell me about his family in Olympia, all superficial but helpful details to know should anyone ask, and not knowing more meant we weren’t that serious. Plus his sisters, Sheila and Sienna. What they did for work, their ages, and how they weren’t married but may or may not be dating at any given moment.
“You haven’t met them, and I haven’t told them about you. So if they happen to call while we’re all together, or someone brings it up, it won’t be a surprise. And to show we’re not that serious, so when we break up , it won’t be a shocker. And your family?”
I matched his details, but of course my family knew about him, and we were all hanging out apparently.
“So you’re more into me than I am into you,” he stated.
“My heart is more open than yours. You’ve been hurt in the past, not ready to love again.”
“Fair enough.”
We walked in silence after that, and all the while I wondered if his sisters and parents were like him, quiet and sarcastic but brilliant in their field.
“Where are we hiking?” I asked when we met up with his friends at the water fountain. “One of the valleys? Sure your legs can take it before the big day?”
“We’re going to a monument, I think.”
By “monument,” he meant Pu‘ukoholā Heiau National Historic Site, where I hoped he and his friends would be respectful of the ancient land or otherwise I’d be that vocal, and therefore unlikable, person telling people to calm down.
Before that, we walked along Lapakahi State Historical Park. I should’ve advised against trekking these areas during the hottest parts of the day. While other parts of the island were cooler, even cold or rainy, this side was not. The lava rocks only intensified the heat.
I slathered on more SPF—coral reef friendly—and offered the bottle to Sejal, who gawked at me.
“Trust me,” I assured, “brown people sunburn, too.”
“I’ve never sunburned.”
“You’d think that, but this sun will have your skin blistering and peeling and little sweat blisters popping all over the place.”
She cringed.
I wagged the bottle. “Don’t risk it right before a wedding.”
April agreed, pulling her bottle out of her purse. She held a typical cream-colored version that matched her lighter skin tone.
I said to Sejal and Maya, “Mine is pigmented for melanated skin with a matte finish. You’ll love it.”
At that, they took the bottle.
I offered it to Sunny. He shook his head.
“Sunburn is essentially your cells self-destructing to protect the rest of your cells from radiation-inflicted DNA mutation. Don’t neglect cells willing to die for the rest of you.”
Sunny stared at me, and I stared back, neither of us willing to budge.
“Babe…” I said sweetly.
He grunted and relented and applied SPF. “Happy?”
“Extremely.” I swiped a smear off his chin, ignoring his annoyance.
The girls were all prepped out with floppy hats, and I kicked myself knowing that I should’ve taken the time to bring my hat, a cap, a scarf, sunglasses…anything. Why hadn’t I?
“Are you okay?” Sunny asked as we ventured along the dusty paths between rocks and sparse shrubs.
Despite the ocean being right there in front of us, it wasn’t enough to keep me cool.
My mouth was parched by the time we walked back to the trailhead to go down the other path. I’d already drunk all my water.
“Hey.” Sunny had slowed down to meet my even slower pace.
Here I was, big sister to a local who came here all the time and was always in tourists’ faces about this and that, and yet, I’d failed the most basic thing. Cover thyself and always have water.
“Umm…” Yet I didn’t want to spoil their adventure or make him worry. “You go ahead.”
His friends were getting farther ahead of us. He looked at them and then at me. “Bane?”
The sudden chills, the unholy level of burning coursing through my body, the way my skin felt singed, the parched mouth, and the slowly, but surely, bit of dizzy spell that would come. Heat exhaustion. It was coming. Even at eleven in the morning, it was too hot with the sun blazing right on this equatorial region.
I gulped hard after drinking the last drop of my water, my steps slowing down even more as my legs turned jellylike. The goose bumps came, the shivers, and oh, no…it was too late. It was here.
I immediately sought shade, but there was very little shade beneath scant, short trees that were more gangly branches than leaves. The group was taking pictures and looking around, leaving us behind. So I just turned around and went back up the path. No need to bother them.
“I’m going to go sit down,” I announced.
“Bane! Where are you going?” Sunny called out, jogging after me.
“How are you not hot?” I wheezed.
He shrugged. “I am, but it’s just for a short while.”
I smacked dry lips and hobbled back toward the parking lot. “Give me the keys…to the car…” I rasped.
“What’s wrong?” He stopped me by the shoulder and bent down to look at me.
I rubbed the goose bumps from my arms, every word labored. “I’m getting heat exhaustion. I need shade, AC, water.”
“Okay. Okay,” he said, sounding panicked. Oh, boy. He’d never make it in the medical field.
“It’s fine. I just need to sit in the car.”
He called back to the others, “We’re going back to the car!”
I flinched.
“Sorry,” he said, touching my back. “I’ll text them when we get you settled. Are you okay to walk?”
“Yeah. I’m just slow. My body temp is probably rising; I’m getting achy.”
“Bane.” He looked me dead in the eye in the most devastatingly serious manner. “Is it okay if I pick you up?”
“Wha-what?”
“To take you to the car faster. Because you don’t look good and you’re barely moving, and I don’t know where the closest hospital is.”
“Oh.” Here I thought I was moving quickly enough. I wanted to decline, truly, but without sufficient shade in sight and the degree of my symptoms, pride had no room to make decisions for me. I nodded.
He swept me off my feet in one fluid motion, carrying me through the trail and deftly zipping past a few onlookers, as I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face against his chest. I didn’t welcome the extra heat from his body, but I welcomed the shade, or what little there was to be had.
“We’re here,” he said in a matter of minutes, or hours. It was hard to tell when I was just trying not to pass out.
He set me down by the car, unlocked the door, and let me in on the shady side. Of course, the car was blazing hot. Sunny ran to the driver’s side to turn on the ignition and ran the AC full blast with the windows down. He rummaged through the trunk for water and handed it to me. It was tepid, but I took it.
I drank and drank, my stomach rolling with nausea, then I dabbed some water against my face, neck, shoulders, and arms, not caring that my top turned damp and sticky.
Sunny, sitting in the driver’s seat, quietly watched me as I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, worry oozing off him and filling the car. Once the AC was blowing cold air, the windows went up. After about ten minutes, my body had cooled down and the goose bumps and shivers subsided.
I pried open an eye and looked at Sunny. He was turned toward me, frowning, and watching my every move. “Crisis averted,” I assured him.
He sighed, as if he’d waited with bated breath for my assessment. I hadn’t seen him look so relieved since that time he thought he’d butchered the master copy of code but had really been working on a local branch and his error was totally fixable. Actually, this level of genuine concern was sweet. Beneath all that surly smugness was an honest-to-god kind person.
“Thank you.”
He nodded once. So serious with that wrinkle between his brows.
“I usually never forget to bring a hat and extra ice water and account for every source of shade,” I explained, tamping down the tinge of embarrassment. “Ever since I realized on my first trip here that I’m prone to heat exhaustion, I try not to go to places like these during the hot hours.” Or during my period, because, boy, that only intensified matters.
“You’re fine?”
“Yes.”
“Bane,” he said, dead serious in that commanding voice. “Are you sure?”
I cracked a smile and brushed a finger against his forehead. “You know you get these wrinkles in between your brows when you’re so serious?”
He let out a breath, his expression relaxing. “I’m glad you didn’t pass out. I have no idea how to explain to work that your demise wasn’t my fault.”
“Quite suspicious. I’ll probably need a restroom soon though.” I drank more water.
“There’s a port-a-potty.” He cocked his chin at the nearby facilities.
“I’d rather pee under a tree.”
He cracked a laugh.
“Were you seriously worried?”
“I honestly don’t want our coworkers to hear of you dying out here and thinking I had anything to do with it.”
“Jerk,” I teased, pinching his side.
Sunny flinched away, smirking. “Careful. You might pee on yourself.”
“I’m not cleaning it up.”
He pulled out his phone. “Was so busy watching you for signs of further distress that I forgot to text the group.”
A warm sensation rose in my chest, and not the heat exhaustion kind. His worry was utterly sweet. Maybe Sunny had a sunny side to his doom and gloom after all.
“What do you want to do?”
I pulled away from my thoughts. “I can call Diya. You go back to your friends.”
He seemed genuinely perplexed the way he looked at me. “Isn’t your sister working? I’ll take you back.”
“Ubers exist here. Go enjoy yourself and be with your friends.”
He glanced past my shoulder. “Nah. I didn’t want to come anyway. Now I have an excuse to leave.”
I snorted. “Am I your scapegoat? So your friends can blame your girl when you ditch them? Savage. They’re going to be rooting for you when you tell them about our breakup.”
“First of all, it will look disconcerting on my part if they know you left because of getting ill and I stay out here instead of taking care of you. But more importantly, I need to make sure you don’t relapse.”
“I won’t. As long as I stay away from intense heat and sun, I’ll be fine. Look, no more goose bumps.”
He eyed the arm I was holding out as evidence. “So those bumps are normal?”
I looked down at a hundred tiny water blisters created by my sweat when the sun was trying to cook my flesh. I cringed, retracting my arm, embarrassed. I, however, refrained from popping them so little pockets of water oozed out. “They’ll go away.”
Sunny texted again before buckling in. I followed suit when he eased out of the parking lot. “Even if your sister drove you back, you’d be left alone. Not taking that chance.”
I watched his profile. I never had the chance to just look at him. Usually, we saw each other in passing or during brief conversations or at meetings when I was focused on important things. Sitting here in silence while he drove was surprisingly pleasant. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted, because it would be short-lived. “You’re not annoyed that you have to leave?”
“I’m annoyed they dragged us out there and you got sick.”
The right corner of my mouth went up. Was he actually mad for me instead of at me?
He side-eyed me. “What are you staring at?”
“You have a nice side to you.”
“You think I look nice from the side?”
“That’s not—you know that’s not what I meant.”
He focused on the road.
I clapped my hands. “Let’s get shave ice.”
“You almost passed out.”
“And ice helps. So does sugar.”
“Were you faking it?”
“Yeah. I faked water blisters. Witness my powers.”
“Fine. Where do I go?”
I gave him directions. We could go only one of two ways on the highway, and we took a right, toward the villa, to a little shave ice shop tucked out of the way in Kawaihae. There was enough shade on the stretch of restaurants, shops, and convenience stores to stand outside and not pass out.
“What are you getting?” I asked when Sunny parked mere feet from the front of the shop.
“Nothing.”
“Why not?”
“Seems like a lot of ice.” He indicated the sizes with his chin. They had one size: extra large.
“Okay. Let’s share?”
He gaped at me as if sharing shave ice would send his soul into the ether to be pulverized.
Naturally, I ignored him. “What flavors? I like blue Hawaii, mango, cherry, blood orange, and lychee.”
“Hmm…” There went those forehead wrinkles while he contemplated sugary syrups as if decoding a secret.
“It tastes best with ice cream and a snowcap.”
“What the hell’s a snowcap? Ice on ice?”
“It’s sweetened condensed milk drizzled on top, tastes way better than it sounds. Trust me.”
He pressed his lips together.
“Just one bite?”
He sighed. “Whatever you’d like, I’ll try it.”
I beamed.
“Just…calm down. Don’t pass out.”
“I won’t pass out. You saved me.”
With that, I slipped out and ordered a scoop of ube ice cream buried beneath a dome of shave ice, drenched in three flavors of syrup with a snowcap and a shake of li hing mui on top for a little tartness.
Sunny was suddenly behind me, or maybe he’d always been there, and slipped his card out to pay before I could dig through my small purse.
“Saved me and paid for a shave ice? What a day.”
He grunted, “I’m beginning to think this was all a ruse, Master of Water Blisters.”
I nudged his shoulder with mine as another wave of chills started, which didn’t go unnoticed by him. “Go to the car and I’ll bring it.”
“Thanks.”
Within minutes, we were enjoying a giant colorful shave ice surrounded by the cool comfort of the car’s AC, and blessed by sidewalk awning shade. I was feeling 80 percent better and giddy.
Sunny took tentative bites, his lips puckering at the sweet and tart li hing mui.
“Dried plum powder,” I explained. “Get down to the ice cream. You’ll never be the same.”
I watched with great interest as Sunny shoveled through the layers of shave ice and syrup to hit a jackpot of purple ice cream. He examined it the way he examined pixels on a prototype. When he took that first bite, his face went from curious to alive.
“Good, right?”
“What is this masterpiece?” Sunny shoved aside the ice and dug out the ice cream. He could’ve just ordered a scoop of ice cream.
“It’s ube, bey-bey,” I said in a singsong voice, unable to help it, because in my head, I was singing to the tune of Salt-N-Pepa’s “Push It” hookline that went, “Ooh, baby, baby.” But of course as, “Ube, bebebaby…”
I explained, “It’s purple yam from the Philippines. Used in a lot of desserts. Life-changing, right?”
“Damn, Bane. You’re passing on your addiction.”
I grinned. Because even ube couldn’t negate that stupid nickname he had for me.