Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Tom
The tropics are all fun and stuff, until it starts to rain. And when it rains? It bloody well chucks it down here.
One look out the window is enough to convince me. I’m not going anywhere. And that’s a problem, because I was about to get dinner.
Perhaps I can wait it out. Tropical showers don’t last long, right?
A sunbed flies past my window and thunder cracks overhead, turning the turquoise sea a ghostly white for a split second. A heartbeat later, I hear glass breaking somewhere in the distance.
This isn’t just a quick shower, it’s a full-on storm, and something tells me I’m stuck in my studio for the rest of the night.
A desperate knock yanks my head toward the door. My heart kicks. Yosh?
No. He texted earlier, said he’d meet me after dinner.
Another knock. Harder this time.
Whoever’s out there needs shelter. I can’t ignore that.
I pull the door open—
And it’s him.
Soaked through, hair clinging to his face, and looking like a drowned rat.
I grab his wrist and tug him inside.
“Oh my god, I went to the kitchen to pick up my dinner and this tropical wave came out of nowhere,” he pants. “Thank god you were here.”
Then he turns to me.
I blink a couple of times. My brain is not having it.
His drenched white T-shirt is plastered to his body, defining every muscle. My eyes go over the ridges of his stomach, the lines carving his chest, the tight cables between his neck and shoulders.
He waves a hand in front of my face.
“Tom? Are you okay?”
Am I okay?
Mate, define okay, because I’m pretty sure my soul just left my body.
Here I am, starving, trapped by a storm, and now the universe has decided to throw this fine piece of art in front of me like some kind of test, right after I’d admitted to myself this afternoon that I may or may not be attracted to him.
I should say something smart. Something normal.
What comes out is a pathetic “…Yeah.”
The smile he gives me is genuine, but slightly confused and awkward.
Shit. I need to do something.
“I’ll get you a towel,” I say, retreating to the bathroom.
I grip the edges of the sink, slapping myself on the cheek.
Don’t be such a dumbass. Why are you acting like an idiot? Stay in control. That’s what you do.
I take a deep breath, lift my head, and walk back out. I toss him a towel before heading to my closet, grabbing one of my oversized band shirts. The one with the album cover, not the one with my face on it.
It sure would be fun to provoke a reaction, but I want to score points tonight.
“Thanks, would you mind taking this?” he asks, handing me the takeaway bag.
I step back as he kicks off his soaked espadrilles by the door. Then he heads straight for the bathroom—without closing the door.
I lean against the kitchen table, voyeuring, using the mirror’s reflection.
He dries his chest-length hair from the tips up to the roots, fingers threading through the damp strands. It’s obvious he cares for his hair deeply, and I’d probably get my hand chopped off if I ever tried to touch it.
Then again, I was the kid who got chased with an axe for stealing an apple at the farmer’s market, so I’m well acquainted with the risks of touching a forbidden fruit.
He pulls his soaked shirt over his head, revealing a massive serpent tattoo winding up his back, coiling with every flex of his muscles.
Holy…
I turn my face towards the AC to cool off.
“So, how was your day? How do you feel?” he asks.
From the corner of my eye, I catch him turning in front of the mirror, vainly checking how my shirt looks on him.
Saliva gathers in my mouth.
Focus, McKenna.
“Uhm, yeah…feeling better. I kind of did a thing.”
“Oh?”
“I sneaked out to go to the dive bar down the beach.”
“You did what?”
“As I said, I sneaked out. Walked to the end of the beach, found this dive bar, and—”
He stops me there, pressing his palm flat on the table.
“You’re not allowed to leave Arcadia on weekdays, you need my permission to do so.”
Permission…
That twitching fucker in my pants likes the sound of that.
“I don’t consider Friday afternoon a weekday.” I say casually, folding my arms.
He scoffs, then tilts his head, inspecting me, trying to read my face.
“Did you go there because you wanted a drink?”
There it is. He wants to know if I slipped.
“Hah, I knew you’d ask. But no, I didn’t. In fact, the exact opposite happened.”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“There was this diver at the bar, drunk as hell. Sat next to me while I was eating my burger, ranting to the entire place about how his boyfriend dumped him a few days ago. Kept saying stuff like love of my life, best fuck I ever had, biggest selfish arsehole in the universe, blah blah blah. He called him a walking red flag or something. Then he offered me a beer.”
His eyes go huge. “He said what!?”
“I know, right? But I said no thank you, and then, get this, he told me I was boring, just like his pathetic ex.”
Yosh flinches, letting out a high-pitched sound before slapping a hand over his mouth. A muffled scoff slips through his fingers.
I can only assume he finds it as ridiculous as I do.
“You know, I’m not breaking my sobriety over a stranger’s drunken misery. I have my own shit to collect. All I wanted was to eat my burger in peace.”
Yosh finally lowers his hand and crosses his arms over his chest.
“What…what did you say to him?”
“Well, I told him to go fuck himself and use his salty, scratchy tears as lube.”
I see Yosh’s brain working, and I’m not quite sure what he’s making out of it. I know I crossed the line by visiting a bar of all places, but that doesn’t really seem to bother him. A soft hum, followed by the slightest sign of a grin.
“You did well.” he simply answers, leaving me confused as he does’nt even mention the whole bar thing.
I decide it’s best not to wake sleeping dogs, so I nod at the takeaway bag.
“Want me to grab you a plate? Dinner’s getting cold.”
His eyes go to the window before he nods.
“Would you mind? This doesn’t look like the usual ten-minute tropical shower.”
“Yeah, I figured when I saw the pool furniture fly by.”
A deep rumble of thunder rolls through the air, rattling the glasses on the kitchen shelf. The lights in my studio flicker once, then twice. We both glance up at the ceiling, waiting for a third. Nothing happens.
“Have you eaten? We can split.”
“No, I’m good. Go ahead,” I say. My stomach growls in protest. Softer than the storm outside, but no less humiliating.
Yosh chuckles as he starts unpacking the food.
“Don’t be a fool, McKenna. Grab an extra plate.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, pressing both hands to my stomach in a useless attempt to shut it up.
I take two glasses from the cupboard, filling them both with ice cubes and spring water.
Yosh divides the portions of what looks like a local beef stew, served with rice, salad, and baked plantain.
“Wow, this looks—”
A loud crack of thunder cuts me off, scaring the living hell out of me. Next thing I know, the lights flicker and the room goes dark.
“What the…”
“It’s nothing,” Yosh says. I can’t see him, but I hear his chair scrape against the floor.
“Happens all the time. There should be candles in the kitchen drawer. Let me check.”
I hear him moving toward me, and instinctively I try to step aside to give him space. But I can’t see shit and slam my knee into the table leg.
I curse and stumble back. Blind as fuck, I crash into Yosh and we go down. Me landing hard on top of him.
Yosh’s chest rises and falls beneath me. I can feel his warmth through my shirt, making me feel both comfortable and tense at the same time.
My heart pounds so hard I swear he can feel it against his ribs.
I should move. I know I should.
I brace my hands against the tiles, ready to push off, and then I feel it.
Him.
He’s growing hard beneath me.
No. This is not happening.
My body tenses. My brain is screaming that the smart thing to do is to back away, but my body is plotting a coup. So instead of retreating, I rest my head on his shoulder.
That strong, warm, comfortable shoulder where I poured my heart out yesterday. The one that belongs to me now.
My lips part, the damp heat of his skin grazing my face.
I shouldn’t. I know that.
But there’s no fighting whatever this is. Gravity pulls me closer, my erection pulsing, making contact with him. It’s all feral want from here.
My lips kiss the curve of his neck, a touch followed by a suction so faint it could be imagined.
A quiet, muffled moan makes it past his lips. I imagine them open needy in the dark.
His hand finds my waist, fingers disappearing beneath my shirt.
Is he tugging me closer or is he about to push me the hell away? I don’t know. And I don’t get the chance to find out, because in that exact second, the lights flicker back on.
As the blinding light fades, I jerk back so fast I nearly trip over my own feet. I don’t dare look at him, let alone acknowledge what just happened.
I’m not an asshole, not tonight and not with him at least, so I offer him my hand.
There’s hesitation in his eyes. He blinks up at me, searching my face for… an explanation. Maybe regret. I don’t know. Slowly, he takes it.
His hand is warm, made to fit mine, and for a split second I wonder if he feels it too.
I shove the thought away before things get out of control—again. So I force myself to speak, trying to sweep this whole disaster under the carpet.
“I’m so sorry. I know I’m the worst. I’m… I’m always this stupidly clumsy.”
Yosh clears his throat.
“It’s… uh, yeah. It’s fine. Happens.”
He retreats behind the kitchen chair, curling his fingers tightly around the top rail.
Happens?
“All the time,” he adds. “You know, people falling.”
I stare at his hands, at the restless gestures, at the way he pushes his hair over his shoulder.
He laughs.
“Anyway. Food’s getting cold.”
Right. Because food fixes everything. Proof neither of us was blessed with grace.
Greek tragedy is about all I know, so this feels on brand.
I pull my chair back and sit. Yosh does the same, casually picking up his fork like nothing happened.
Like I didn’t just have my lips on his neck, feel him hard beneath me, his hand wrapping around my waist, thumb tracing a slow half-circle over my stomach. He must’ve felt me react.
The thought alone sends a shiver down my spine.
The storm still rages outside, wind rattling the wooden shutters. I’m grateful for the noise. It covers all the things we’re not saying.
We eat in silence.