33. TIAGO #2
I pout. ‘I didn’t even get to taste you yet.’
She shakes her head lazily. ‘Your stamina, boy.’
I’ll take that as a compliment.
I can’t stop looking at her. The sweat clinging to her shoulders, the rosiness in her cheeks, her hair in total disarray.
‘Come over here,’ I say, my erection softening as I throw away the condom and walk across the deck barefoot. ‘Let’s clean off. There’s a shower.’
Hesitant footsteps sound behind me. ‘Where is it?’
‘Over here.’
She looks around for crew that have made themselves scarce. I knew they would. Between me and my brothers, this isn’t their first rodeo.
‘Wait, what’s that in the sea?’ I lean over the edge. ‘I think it’s a dolphin!’
Her footsteps quicken. ‘What?’
‘Psych!’ I push her over the side and she tumbles into the sea with a strangled yelp. I’m in hysterics as I leap in after her.
‘Are you crazy?’ she says, treading water, but her smile belies her tone. The cool water’s almost shocked her back to full strength. ‘What if the boat leaves us here?’
‘Jules, it’s my boat, and it’s stationary.’
I can’t stop looking at her. Hair slicked back, droplets clinging to her eyelashes, not a single smear of makeup. I really want to kiss her but I don’t think the addendum covers kissing outside sex.
‘We’re naked,’ she impresses, like I hadn’t noticed.
I shake the hair out of my face. ‘What’s your thing about nakedness?’
‘What if a fish gets interested?’
‘Then it’s not the only thing in this ocean that’s interested in you.’ I splash her and she splashes back, harder.
I launch on top of her, trapping her in arm jail. She wriggles out, plants both hands on the top of my head and dunks me under. We squirm around, splashing and laughing and fighting until we’re even more spent.
‘What did Leone say after your result last weekend?’ she asks, bobbing with the current.
‘They’re over the freaking moon. You’d have thought we’d won the Championship.’
She grins. ‘You deserve it; that was some feat. No one’s ever placed in a Leone before.’
I agree, watching the ripples my hand makes.
‘Does it make you more inclined to stay?’ she says.
‘What? No, I…’ Where did that even come from? The whole reason we have any relationship at all is because of Volare. ‘Volare are my team. I’m just helping these guys out in the meantime.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ she asks slowly. ‘You haven’t mentioned Volare in weeks.’
‘I’m… focused on trying to prove myself. It doesn’t mean anything.’ Her sceptical expression has me second-guessing myself. ‘What, are you saying I should stay?’
Her fingers dance on the water’s surface. ‘The more I hear about Volare and your time there, the more I wonder why you’d go back to somewhere you were treated like that.’
‘It was mostly me. I don’t really blame them.’
‘Your behaviour wasn’t any different to the previous four years. I admit it didn’t reflect well on a sporting brand, and I don’t doubt it was a contributing factor, but they handled it appallingly. They didn’t even tell you themselves – you found out second-hand.’
Third-hand. It was in an article that Isa found and showed me.
‘F1 schedules are tight,’ I mutter. ‘Anyway, they’re different now. There’s been a lot of change in the leadership.’
Her eyes tighten. ‘A Volare graduate wins P2 at the British Grand Prix, and they don’t even message you or congratulate you on social media?’
‘Politics.’ I shrug even though I was thinking the same thing. ‘Wait, where’s this coming from? They’re my dream.’
The injustice of it burns through my veins. If she wants to talk about unworthy goals, I can go right now. How’s Tom doing? How’s getting over Damian going? How’s transitioning to self-growth content?
‘I just want what’s best for you,’ she says, and it’s so damn sincere my aggravation ebbs away.
‘They are what’s best for me.’
She smiles but it’s weak and doesn’t reach her eyes and I hate that this is tainting our perfect day. It took so many ransoms to guarantee we’d be alone.
‘Good,’ she says.
‘How about you? What’s after F1?’
I so badly want her to say she’s trying something new, that she’s listening to her own advice.
‘Maybe basketball. It’s seeing rapid growth in Asia.’
Oh forget it.
‘How are you enjoying Miami so far?’ I ask, needing a new topic ASAP as I watch her flip onto her back. I can’t keep my gaze from shooting to her puffy pussy. God, I’m such a perv.
‘Loving it. You really had a dream childhood.’
I wouldn’t exactly say getting called a ‘beaner’ for most of middle school a dream, but the rest was decent.
‘Your toes look weird upside down,’ I comment, reaching to touch them. She flails her feet at me and I retreat with raised hands. ‘What was your family like growing up?’ I ask through a laugh.
‘My dad was away a lot on tour. It was mainly me and my mum.’
‘You guys must be tight now, though.’
She changes position so she’s back treading water, her attention caught by something under the surface.
‘I missed him, and I miss him now. He didn’t know how to deal with his grief when my mum died, and he really didn’t know how to deal with his daughter’s.
Grief is weird. It’s different in everyone. ’
The more I read about OCD, the more boxes she ticks.
It can be triggered by a major life event, like losing a loved one.
If Jules had an episode after her mom died, it would make sense that a father who didn’t even understand his daughter in the first place would be overwhelmed watching her turn into a manic version of herself.
‘I’m sorry, Jules,’ I say.
‘It’s fine. I’m my own family.’ Well that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, but I nod anyway. ‘Celebrations are a bit sore, but that’s about it. Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Christmas—’
‘Hold up, you don’t like Christmas?’
She slowly shakes her head, looking afraid of the enthusiasm I’m about to launch at her.
‘I love Christmas! No one does Christmas like the Cabreras. It’s literally a whole month long. Come to my house! We cover the pool in glass and eat our dinner on it. The dining room’s too small for everyone.’
‘What? How can it be too small?’
I wave her away. ‘Bring your dad, it’ll be sick.’
‘I can’t—’
‘Sure you can. You’ll never eat so much food in your life. See if you can look at my mom’s nativity scene without laughing. Joseph looks like Nancy Pelosi.’
‘But—’
‘We’re friends, right?’ It’s meant to come out casually, but it really doesn’t.
I have to believe Jules will still be in my life five months from now. Hell, I want her in my life thirty years from now. I can’t imagine it any other way. Let me at least pretend I get to keep her.
‘Right,’ she says firmly, and it’s embarrassing how much my chest deflates. ‘Friends.’