Chapter 11
Diablo
It feels impossible to hide my smile as we’re sitting at breakfast the next morning; my mind full of thoughts about falling asleep with Elizabeth last night after our fun in the shower.
I can’t get enough of learning all these little things about her that I hope no one else knows, like the fact that her vanilla scent comes from one of her ‘special curly hair products’.
Being able to drift off to sleep smelling it, and then waking up to it… Shit, it’s the best thing ever.
“How did you sleep, mijo?” Mom asks.
“What?”
“The sofa.”
“Oh,” I say, relief flooding me, “yeah, I slept great, Mamá, gracias.”
“Bueno,” she says, a smile playing on her lips.
Does she know? I turn my attention back to my breakfast in case my expression gives me away.
“Everything okay?” Donovan asks Elizabeth, watching her concentrate on her phone.
“Um… yeah,” she says, “I’ve had an email from my college professor about some additions I need to make to my assignment. It ’s due tomorrow so I might need to leave right after breakfast to have time to finish it. I’m sorry, I don’t want to leave, I’ve had so much fun.”
My heart sinks, I’d been hoping to spend some time with her when we got home, but I know how important her schoolwork is, and I wouldn’t ever want to get in the way of it.
“That’s okay, mija,” Mom says, “we’ve loved having you, and you’re welcome back anytime, even if Donovan isn’t here.”
“Hey!” Donovan says, “D and I are sitting right here; can you not replace us with a new favorite child please.”
Everyone laughs as Mom taps him around the head before pulling him into a hug.
“What about your train?” Miguel asks.
“Well, I think my ticket is transferable, I just need to check the timetable to see what works, unless…” She glances at me.
“Yeah,” Donovan says, “surely it makes more sense for you to ride back with D?” He looks at me hopefully as well.
Trying to contain my excitement at getting to enjoy the whole ride back with Elizabeth, I nod my head.
“Sure, I don’t mind heading back early.”
“Great,” Donovan says, “that’s settled.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth says, smiling as she returns to her breakfast.
Elizabeth
I was relieved when Donovan suggested the idea of riding back with Angel, I knew it would seem out of place for me to ask for a lift myself; but this has all worked out perfectly.
I finish packing my things and hug Donovan, Sofía, and Miguel, thanking them again for letting me stay and being so welcoming.
Angel stores my bag in his bike’s lock box before handing me the spare helmet I usually wear.
“Let’s go, princess,” he says, quietly so no one else will hear.
The memory of him saying that to me before we both got shoved into the supply closet together makes me chuckle, oh how times have changed. I climb on behind him and wave a final goodbye, before holding onto the back of the bike while he kicks it into gear and sets off down the street.
About a mile or so outside the main town, he pulls into a gas station and brings the bike to a stop. I climb off and he follows.
“Just need to fill up,” he says, lifting his visor, “but don’t worry, I’ll get you home in time to work on your assignment.”
I laugh and lean into him, pressing my body against him as I wrap my arms around his neck, at least as much as I can with our helmets on.
“What?” he asks.
“Angel, there is no assignment.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just said that so we could leave early and spend the day together, and maybe… all night?” I’m nervous, I’d assumed that he’d want to spend the time with me, but what if he doesn’t. “Is that okay?”
He takes his helmet off and removes mine before taking my face in his hands, he tilts me to look up at him.
“Okay?” he asks, his eyes dark and intense, “yeah that’s definitely okay.”
He leans down and kisses me, trapping me between his body and the bike as he presses against me .
“Hey!” an angry voice calls, “There’s a line forming here!”
Angel pulls back and smirks at me before turning to the man who yelled. For a moment the look in his eyes makes me think he’s about to start something, but as I gently squeeze his arm his expression softens.
“Sorry about that,” he calls back, “couldn’t resist kissing my girl.”
He’s met with some happy cheers from guys who are milling around the station, and he laughs while he fills up his bike. Meanwhile I’m trying not to read too much into the fact that he just called me his girl.
When we’re ready to leave, instead of holding onto the back, I let myself sit forward and thread my arms around his waist, my body pressed against his. He reaches a hand down and grips my thigh, making me squeeze him between them.
“Fuck, princess, you’ve got no idea how long I’ve been looking forward to riding with you like this.”
“Take me for a ride then,” I say, before we flip our visors down and he starts the bike.
We aren’t in a hurry, so Angel takes the scenic route back to Tynerston.
Following the coastal road reignites memories I’d buried, the smell of the ocean always makes me think of vacation time.
Trips to the beach with my parents, how everything in the picnic tasted slightly salty from the ocean spray, and there was sometimes that subtle grit in the food from the sand, but it didn’t matter because after spending all day playing in the water, it was still the most delicious thing you’d ever tasted .
Growing up in Radbury Heights, we were rich, but I was too naive and sheltered to know any different, nothing really existed for me outside of the suburb I grew up in.
I didn’t think twice about the fact that we’d have at least two family vacations a year, that my parents were always taking me to amusement parks, that I just had to ask for something and it would magically appear the next day, gift-wrapped with a pretty ribbon.
I always heard my friends say that they never saw their parents, that their dad was always at work, or their mom was busy organizing some social event.
But my parents were always there for me, and even as a teenager I had the best relationship with them.
I loved hanging out with them, going to the mall with my mom for a shopping day, going out on my dad’s boat, hanging out at the beach, just like the ones we’re passing now.
Tears form in my eyes and I quickly blink them away, nestling in a bit closer to Angel.
I never let myself think about them and this trip down memory lane has caught me off guard.
I know I’m burying stuff I should be facing head-on, but I can’t let myself properly grieve them until I’ve fixed everything. For now, I need to be strong.
I hug my arms a bit tighter around Angel, wondering what he knows, and how much Donovan’s told him.
Donovan knows it’s not a secret, but I guess before now, Angel wouldn’t have ever been curious about my family.
At what point do I owe him that information; we aren’t necessarily in a relationship, but we are exclusive, and after this weekend, we feel close, this feels like more than just sex.
The bike slows once we reach a small seaside town called Applefield; it’s quaint, not full of tourists like some of the larger towns and cities along the coast. Angel stops in the parking lot of a restaurant, I get off and remove my helmet .
“Hey,” he says, taking my hand, “what’s wrong?”
Shit, is it obvious I had tears in my eyes?
“Nothing, uh… my eyes were just watering from the ride.”
He nods, and I know he doesn’t believe me, but he lets it go. Smart man.
“How come we stopped?” I ask.
“Thought we could get some lunch, come on.”
He leads me inside and I’m instantly overwhelmed by the smell of freshly cooked seafood.
The restaurant is packed; long tables with benches on either side are full of people, each with piles of seafood on the table in front of them.
I’ve always wanted to try a restaurant like this but never knew there was one so close to home.
“This okay?” Angel asks, and I nod in response.
A server leads us to an empty spot on one of the benches, so we’re sitting opposite each other but with people on both sides of us, their conversations carrying from all around.
“Are you happy for me to order?” he asks through the noise, and I nod again.
I can’t even hear his conversation with the server, so I take my time looking around.
The restaurant is basically a wooden shack that has been added to over the years; none of the wood matches and the walls are all slightly different sizes.
Paint peels behind the many photo frames, showing people holding fish or crab cages, ranging from grainy black and white newspaper clippings to recent color photos.
Half the people here look like they’re locals, but the fact that no one blinked an eye at us when we entered, and the different clothing styles, show that half probably aren’t local.
I don’t imagine this is the type of place that’s featured on tourist websites or talked about in restaurant review magazines, but for those in the know, it’s likely famous, with people traveling from all over to eat here.
Two bottles of ginger ale are unceremoniously placed in front of us, bringing my attention back to Angel.
“Have you been here before?” I ask, needing to lean in so he can hear me.
“Yeah, not recently though,” he says, “are you sure it’s okay?”
He looks nervous, glancing around at the people and the walls, perhaps seeing it through my eyes for the first time. Considering he’s always thought of me as a snobby princess he probably thinks that I hate it.
“Yes,” I say, “I love it, I’ve always wanted to eat somewhere like this.”
He visibly relaxes, and I’m about to ask him who he came here with, when we’re interrupted by a large bucket of cooked seafood being spilled onto newspaper in front of us.
“Holy shit!” I giggle, and he laughs at me.
It’s the best seafood I’ve ever tasted; cooked and seasoned to perfection. I’m not a precious eater, and definitely don’t mind getting stuck in, my hands messy with the juices and an impressive pile of empty shells building up next to me.
We don’t need to talk, every now and again our eyes meet across the table, and we laugh or smile.
Spending time with him is so much easier than I ever imagined it could be.
After isolating myself for so long, it’s hard to let people in, let them see me like this, but for some reason it doesn’t seem scary with him.
“You wanna hang out here a bit more?” he asks, “or shall we head back.”
“We can walk, let our food go down. Also, I love piers, so we definitely need to wander down the pier.”
“Sounds good.”
He takes my hand in his and we walk side by side. I don’t remember the last time I held hands with a guy like this. I mean, Angel’s grabbed my hand to lead me places, but just to walk along holding hands, even thinking about it causes a nervous giggle.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing, it’s stupid.”
“Come on, tell me.”
I sigh. “After everything that’s happened between us—at Platinum, in my apartment, this weekend in the shower—I’m getting nervous holding your hand. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.” He stops walking and pulls me to him. “I’ve never held someone’s hand like this.”
“You haven’t?”
He shakes his head and smiles. “No, but I like it.”
He lifts my hand to his lips and gives it a quick kiss.
“Me too.” I stand on tiptoes and press my lips to his in a chaste kiss. “I also really like it here.” I nod my head down the pier.
“Yeah? Why piers?”
“I don’t know, and it’s not all piers.”
“Not all piers? Isn’t a pier, a pier? ”
I laugh. “No, I don’t like the big gaudy ones, where it’s all flashing lights and cotton candy, they’re too much. I like piers like this one.”
“You prefer rotting wood to candy?”
“Shut up! It’s not rotting, it’s aged.”
He smirks. “You do like older things.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Designer Suit Steve was older than you.”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re bringing him up.”
“I’m not wrong though,” he laughs and ducks as I playfully go to hit him.
“I admit, that wasn’t my finest moment, okay? But in my defense, I needed a distraction, from a certain someone.”
I push him, but he pulls me back into him, his arms wrapping around my waist, keeping me locked against him.
“I know, I’m just messing,” he says, “although I’m glad I got there in time.”
“Yeah, me too.”
He studies my face, and his features soften the longer he looks.
“You really are so beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I say with a nervous chuckle, “you’re not too bad yourself.”
“Not too bad, huh. That’s all I get?”
I let my gaze roam over his features, his dark eyes, the stubble that covers his chin, his lips.
“I think you’re beautiful too.”
He kisses me and it’s gentle, sweet, different to our other kisses, and it feels nice being out in the world, in his arms like this.
“Come on,” I say, breaking the kiss. I take his hand again and walk a bit further down the pier. “So how do you know about this place? ”
He leads me to the edge and we sit, leaning forward against the railing, our legs dangling over the water.
“Frank, my father, used to bring me here.” His voice is flat and I keep quiet, giving him space to either talk more or change the subject.
“It’s the only good memories I have of him I guess, driving me out here, leaving Mom and Donovan at home so I knew they were safe, and we’d sit and eat seafood together. ”
His comment about knowing his mom and Donovan were safe lingers in my head.
“How old were you?” I ask.
“He started bringing me here when I was six probably, Donovan would have been two, so he’d be having toddler tantrums and stuff. It was better that Frank was out of the house.”
“I know a bit about your dad, but not much, only what Donovan’s told me, but… he doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he says, “I don’t like to either, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“If you do want to talk about it, I’ll listen, I’m here, if you want to.”
“Not today, another time maybe. Tell me about your folks, what are they like?” he asks, a smile forming on his face, and I realize he doesn’t know.