Chapter Ten
As I walk back to my hotel, my fingers twist the fabric of Julián’s T-shirt, ringing it out over and over. What the hell is his problem? Maybe I took it too far by talking about his sex life, but he could use a lesson or two in fucking communication instead of just walking away. If I would have known he was so precious about his lifestyle of sleeping with women and ghosting them, I wouldn’t have brought it up, or at least apologized if he wouldn’t have taken off like a coward. No, fuck that, no apology from me. He’s in the wrong here. I would have called him out on his shit and asked why he’s fine hooking up with other women but not with me.
And the audacity to leave me at the beach, knowing damn well I didn’t have a way back. What a selfish asshole. The walk is only a little over twenty minutes, but the point stays the same. He’s a dickhead. A dickhead who embarrassed me and took off like a temper-filled child. Thank god we didn’t hook up. I blink my eyes to get rid of the stupid vision of his wet lips, the muscles across his chest…
When I reach the main road, my anger has only increased. As I pass a busy restaurant, laughter and music pour onto the sidewalk with the tables and chairs. I consider stopping in and ordering a drink, taking a picture, and posting it on Instagram to get Julián’s anger and attention. How desperate of me to think he would even care enough to notice.
I pull my phone out and text Amara, hoping she’s still out. There’s no way I can go back to my hotel and face my mom right now. It’s almost eleven. My mom must be really, really distracted or exhausted with work to not be questioning me this late.
Amara’s name pops up on my screen as my phone vibrates in my hand. I slide to accept it immediately. “Where the hell did you disappear to?” Her voice is loud, the background even louder.
“I… Julián took me out of there before the cops came. You didn’t get in trouble, right? And I swear I’ll give you money for the drinks.”
“No one got in trouble and everything’s fine. Wait, are you still with Julián?” she asks. I can imagine her brows wiggling through the phone.
“No. He—” Something stops me from finishing. “I’m not with him anymore. He basically just dropped me off.” I don’t know why I’m lying to her, but I can’t seem to help it.
“Are you guys still out?” I ask, trying to move the topic from Julián.
“We are… but we’re on our way to Prisha’s Airbnb,” she tells me. “You can come?” she offers, like the angel she is, but I want her to have alone time with her date that I nearly ruined and I would be the worst company right now.
“No, no, it’s okay. I’m tired anyway and have had enough excitement for one night. I’m nearly back to my hotel now.” I click on the directions on my phone. A little over half a mile to go.
She promises to call me tomorrow, and I tell her to have fun, hoping she has more fun than I did with Julián.
The familiar rumbling of a motorbike engine rings in my ears. Though there are tons of them in this city, I’ve already memorized his. I refuse to look back, even as he slows to a near stop next to me.
“Hey,” he calls to me.
I walk faster. I can see him in my peripheral, but I’m still so pissed, not to mention embarrassed.
“Ry, look, I’m sorry. Can we talk for a minute?”
I shake my head. “No. You said what you wanted to say and left me at the beach alone. Fuck off.”
I give him one glance and see he’s struggling with the pace of my walking with his bike. He shuts down the engine, the purr going quiet.
“I deserve that. I shouldn’t have left you there, knowing you can’t get back.”
I stop dead in my tracks, the temper I inherited from my mother flaring. “I can get back! Clearly.” I hold up my phone to show him. “So leave me alone.”
The last thing on earth I want is for him to leave me alone, which pisses me off even more. Something about him is so hard to resist. Especially when I look at him. I guess that’s how hot men get away with manipulation so often. All sense of critical thinking disappears in their presence.
“Can I at least drop you off at your hotel? Then I’ll leave you alone,” he says. I start walking again.
“No. I don’t want or need you to take me anywhere. You made it abundantly clear that you don’t like me, so why would I get on your stupid bike and wear that stupid helmet for a three-minute ride that will keep me up all night?”
I hear him laugh and I give him a death stare, trying with all my might to ignore that he’s shirtless. His shirt is in my hands.
“So, you’ll be up all night thinking about me?”
I shake my head. “That’s not what I meant.”
I start to wonder why I’m lying to this random guy who I almost kissed just so I don’t feel even more embarrassed, but what’s the point of caring what he thinks of me? We’re on a quiet part of the street and it’s not likely that anyone around will understand me anyway. My ego loses and honesty wins.
“You know what, yeah, I will be up all night thinking about you. It will drive me nuts wondering why you are so hot and cold, why you almost kissed me and then rejected me. Why you apparently sleep with every woman on the island except me. It’s embarrassing, and you’re getting under my skin and I don’t know why. I’m trying really hard to act like I don’t give a shit what you think about me or if you think I’m pathetic, blah, blah, blah. That’s how my brain works, and it does bother me that you humiliated me and made me feel awful about myself.”
The grip on his handlebars slips and the bike tilts to the side, nearly falling. Apparently, he’s not used to women being honest to his face. I’m honored to be the first and hope I’m not the last.
“What? Nothing to say now? You shouldn’t have asked if you didn’t want an answer,” I snap in his silence.
He looks at me, his eyes touching mine and not moving. As he begins, the tone of his voice is so strained, like the words are being slowly ripped out of his chest and off his tongue.
“I’m sorry. Genuinely. I don’t know why I got so mad and left. I guess being called out didn’t feel great, and I was embarrassed, too, that you think I’m some asshole who fucks every woman I meet. I don’t want you to think that. I want you to… I guess I wanted you to get to know me, and I thought I was being respectful by not hooking up with you on a public beach.”
“You pretended to be into me and then literally left me there.”
“I know that was immature of me. But I was not pretending to be into you. I’m very into you and I think that’s why I acted like that. It’s not an excuse, but I can’t stand the idea of making you upset or feel bad about yourself.”
I wasn’t expecting an honest reaction from him, and he’s apologized, so what’s left to say? Maybe more honesty…
“Well, I appreciate your apology and I’m glad you didn’t mean to make me feel like shit. But it still did.”
“Are you going to ignore that I said I’m into you?”
I nod, glancing at a woman and her child walking by. The toddler is holding a green balloon in one hand and the woman’s hand in the other. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a child out so late, but the culture seems to be so different here, starting dinner after nine, when I’m usually already drowsy from my meds, and staying out until midnight on a casual work night.
“Are you not into me?” Julián presses.
Okay… enough honesty for one night. It’s overwhelming and I’ve never had someone flat-out ask me, while making eye contact, if I like them or not.
“I think you are.” He pushes again.
“Does it matter? We barely know each other and look how rocky it’s already been. Plus, I thought you hated tourists.”
“I don’t hate tourists. I hate rich people who think they rule the world. And yes, I’m aware that they do, but I hate it with every fiber of my being. I hate that spoiled rich people come here and trash our land and drive up the prices and eliminate the working class. But you with your reusable water bottle…” He homes in on me. “Something about you… you’re not like that. Spoiled, yes. But you’re different, I can tell, or you wouldn’t be driving me so crazy.”
“I’m different?” I laugh at how bold he is at making assumptions and speaking his mind. “I’m not like other girls? I’m not the kind of woman who wants to be told I’m not like other girls. I want to be like them, and I’m so sick of men pitting us against each other by—”
“Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Jeanne Deroin. I never said anything about other women. I said tourists. Don’t make me out to be a scumbag.”
Embarrassment rolls through me. He’s right, again. And I jumped to conclusions, again.
“Whatever. And yes, I do know who that is. I’m not as dumb as you think.” I roll my eyes, thanking my mom for making me learn about many, many influential women who shaped feminism in history. Him knowing about her is impressive, but I’ve already given him enough of an ego boost by embarrassing myself.
“I never said you were stupid. In fact, I said the opposite. Do you always jump to conclusions?”
“Do you always have to have the last word?”
“Yes,” he admits with a cocky shrug.
“You’re annoying, you know that?”
He nods. “Yet here we are.”
Yet here we are . I’m tingling and excited and enjoying the banter with him. Damn him.
“I’m here for the summer, what’s the point of liking each other?” I ask him and myself as we continue to walk.
“What’s the point of anything in life? If you only think of the ending, you’re unable to take in the present, the point of living.”
“How philosophical,” I tease, trying to undercut how right he is and how deeply I feel his words.
“I’m being serious. Do you like me so far? Because it seems like you do.”
“Are you always this pushy? It’s been a day since we met.” I can tell by the expression on his face he’s not going to let this go.
Do I like him? Yes. Do I want to like him? No. No way in hell. I’m scared of what will happen if I say yes. I promised myself when I boarded the plane to come here that I wouldn’t let fear make any more choices for me. At the time I meant diving into the ocean, spending time roaming unfamiliar streets, trying new foods. Not a man on a freaking motorcycle who manages to turn me into a puddle every time he looks at me.
“No. I’m not. Believe it or not, I don’t usually chase women around town. It would be bad for my already damaged reputation.”
I laugh, allowing myself to enjoy the way he makes me feel. His humor is my favorite type. Self-deprecating and witty, intelligent but not obnoxious. Well, a little obnoxious, but still.
“So, what’s so bad about us hanging out until you leave or we get sick of each other? What’s the worst thing that can happen?” he questions, having no idea what the worst thing actually could be.
“If you don’t agree, you can live with the satisfaction, or guilt, of knowing you drove me absolutely mad by turning me down.” A playful glimmer in his eyes makes me smile. “Just for the summer, why not see where it goes and have fun?”
“You’re asking for me to spend my summer with you? You haven’t even kissed me yet.”
We’re approaching my hotel. I find myself wishing I would have walked slower. He stops walking and faces me, touching my chin between his thumb and forefinger. He’s so close as he leans in that I can count the freckles on the bridge of his nose. The night air buzzes between us, my breath lost in the light breeze.
“Would you like me to kiss you?” His voice is so seductive that I almost nod before snapping out of it.
I gently shove at his chest, my heart hammering in my own. “No. Oh my god, no.” I try to hide the heat in my cheeks, and he bursts into laughter.
“Right… so are you going to give me some of your precious time this summer or not?”
His smile is so convincing, so damn charming.
I twist the fabric of his shirt in my hands, contemplating. “For now. And only the summer. No drama, no ghosting, just a fun summer fling. If we even make it that far.”
“Deal,” he says, grinning like he won the Super Bowl.
“Deal.” I roll my eyes, excited and terrified at the same time.