Chapter 26
Nikita
Itoss and turn trying to find a comfortable position to sleep but fail miserably. I’m the kind of person who can only fall asleep on my back - it’s how I’ve always slept - but now I’m stuck with this ridiculous burn that is too painful to lie on.
But that isn’t the only reason I’m awake.
My body had yet to calm down from spending most of the evening provoking Calvin in ways that will probably backfire on me. I am hot - I mean, hot hot- and it has nothing to do with the sunburn radiating off my body.
“Ugh!” I huff and roll over, pulling myself up into a sitting position. The room is dark, only the moonlight peeking through the curtains, reminding me that I have left the shutters open again. The material of the curtain moving gently from the breeze outside.
The door to the lounge area is closed where Calvin sleeps on the other side. I run my fingers through my hair, taking a deep breath in as I try to calm my racing heart. It has been hours since we got back from the festival. I made sure to lock myself in the room, putting some distance between us. Once the rest of the wedding party started with the rounds of drinks, most of them landed on the dance floor where Calvin and I were. A part of me was thankful because that quickly ended another round of who could push each other’s buttons most. It wasn’t long after that, that both Calvin and I were yawning, the exhaustion of the day weighing down until neither of us had any energy left.
I expected to get back and pass out, but my body had other plans. The pressure between my legs is begging for me to alleviate it again, but I ignore that desperate bitch. I lean over to grab my cell phone on the bedside table, checking the time to find it’s just after two in the morning. There is a sliding door in the room that opens up onto the balcony and I figure some fresh air is exactly what I need right now.
I toss the duvet off me, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, my feet finding my slippers. I’m wearing nothing but a graphic tee and my underwear - I am not a pajama person. I know some people love the matching sets that are out there, and truthfully, I had tried them a few times, but somehow I always end up in some oversized t-shirt instead.
I walk over to the curtains, moving them out of the way to unlock the door and slide it open. The crisp nighttime breeze brushing up against me, immediately prompting goosebumps to break out across my arms, but I welcome them. I step onto the balcony to the smell of the ocean surrounding me, and I relish in it by inhaling a deep breath in, allowing the air into my lungs, my eyes closing as I repeat the action.
“Can’t sleep?” Calvin’s voice gives me the fright of my life, sending my eyes wide open as I jump back, a squeal leaving my lips.
“Foda-se, you scared the crap out of me!” My hand rests against my heart as I glare in his direction. He is leaning against the railing of the balcony, his head turns towards me with a small amused smile on his face.
“I wasn’t trying to scare you, I thought you saw me.”
I shake my head, “I did not see you.”
Although I should have noticed a shirtless Calvin. Especially since the full moon in the sky illuminates the balcony enough that we don’t need another light. He stands up straight, turning to rest his back against the railing, revealing the bright red burn on his stomach.
I flinch knowing exactly what that feels like.
“It’s as painful as it looks,” he says dryly.
I match his tone, “I’m well aware.”
I walk over to where he stands, careful to keep some distance between us but also wanting to enjoy the fresh air. I bask in the silence around us, the only sound coming from the waves crashing against the shore in the distance.
“What are you doing up?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the view in the distance - the moon is glimmering on the water and it’s one of my favorite sights.
“Can’t sleep.”
“Same.”
“Is the bed not comfortable enough anymore? Do you need me to take it off your hands?”
“If you must know, I struggle to fall asleep unless I’m on my back and right now it’s… fresh.”
His eyebrows furrow, “I’ve got the same problem except I have to sleep on my stomach, and not only do I have this ridiculous burn, but that couch is made of leather.”
The mental image of getting burnt skin stuck to leather has me flinching again.
“Exactly,” he says, taking notice of my reaction.
Silence settles around us, both of us taking in the view. Being around Calvin like this is strange. We aren’t saying anything, yet it isn’t awkward. It feels as if we both have an understanding that in that moment, we don’t need words to fill the silence.
We embrace the quiet until a vocalized yawn escapes me, my hand moving up to cover my mouth.
“Nice shirt,” Calvin says, my eyes landing on him as I open them back up after that yawn. I glance down at the Santana shirt that I’ve had since I was fifteen. My mother had always loved music. For years she always played both Jay and I all the different kinds of music she enjoyed. She introduced me to a lot of the musicians I still enjoy today. I found the shirt at a thrift store one random Saturday and as soon as I saw it, I had to have it. I was excited to show my mother what I had found, and even though she had just returned from a round of chemo, I will always remember the way her eyes lit up. She smiled and for a brief moment, I’m transported to a time where she was happy and healthy.
For months after she passed, I slept in this shirt in an attempt to stay close to her. Years later, and I’m still doing the same thing, but the grief I carry around is something I’ll always have to live with.
“Thanks.” I run my hand down the faded graphic.
“Are you a Santana fan? Or is this one of those situations where people wear shirts of bands they know nothing about?”
“Not this time.” I shake my head, “I’m a fan. My mom played me ‘Oye Cómo Va’ when I was little and from that day, I have been a fan. Santana was my mom’s favorite.”
“I knew I liked your mother for a reason.”
I let out a soft laugh, my heart pulsing with that ache that reminds you that no matter how much time has passed, you are nowhere close to being over the feeling of loss. It isn’t the time that heals the wound, it’s you getting stronger so the wound no longer hurts as badly.
“I can still hear her singing along while she and my dad would make Sunday lunch. If it wasn’t ‘Smooth’ by Santana, it was ‘Bamboleo’ by the Gipsy Kings.” The memory crashes into me without warning, the nostalgia of those moments seeping into my every sense. I can almost taste the bacalhau she loved to make on my tongue, the saltiness reminding all of us that my mother was heavy-handed.
What I wouldn’t give to taste another one of her over-salted meals again.
Keeping my emotions at bay is something I have mastered, but somehow, at this moment I am failing.
“Your mother had great taste.”
“She did.” My voice cracks, the emotion in it betraying me. I try to cover it with a cough, but I can feel Calvin’s eyes already on me. I refuse to look in his direction and instead, I keep my eyes on the water. Digging my nails into the palm of my hands as I will my tears away.
“This year will be fifteen years since my mother passed away. It never truly gets easier so I get it.” The sincerity and kindness in Calvin’s voice has me looking over to make sure the words had actually come from him.
I’ve only encountered one moment of true kindness and comfort from Calvin before this and that was twelve years ago at my mother’s funeral. I was in the back of the church, reading over the eulogy I had written, struggling to keep it together. He was looking for Jay when he found me crying by myself. I tried to wipe away my tears and pretend that I was holding it together, but he saw right through me. I expected him to leave me to my grief, but instead he walked over to me and pulled me into his arms. “Today will be difficult, but I promise you it won’t always feel like this,” he had whispered. I didn’t know how long I had cried against his chest, but I got enough tears out to be able to make it through my eulogy without completely breaking down.
I keep my eyes on the ocean, bringing myself out of the memory, “Thank you.”
I wait for a dry remark or snide comment from him but there is nothing. Calvin after dark is much easier to tolerate.
“I prefer this personality of yours.” I shift the conversation further away from being reminded of the grief I’m feeling, it hasn’t felt this strong in months, “Any chance you could keep him around for the rest of the week?”
He chuckles, leaning over the railing, clasping his hands together. “I’ll put in a request.”
This personality makes jokes too? Now, that’s one I can tolerate.
“I didn’t know you made jokes.”
“I’m not sure how many times I should remind you that you know nothing about me.”
“Then why don’t you tell me something worth knowing?” I ask.
“I’m an open book, ask away.”
Taking a moment to think, plenty of questions bombard me, but I land on one, “First kiss?”
He laughs, his deep brown eyes full of amusement as he looks at me, “Of course, that would be your first question.”
“I’m just curious.” I shrug, “I’m also pretty sure that there’s no way you had your first kiss before the age of nineteen, so-”
“Nineteen?” His eyes widen slightly as he gapes at me, “Give me a little more credit than that.”
“Eighteen?”
“More like thirteen.” He attempts to boast, but this only makes me giggle since he is reacting exactly how I expect him to. Bruising his ego is my favorite pastime. “Kimberly Lucas. At our seventh-grade school dance. A quick peck, nothing to write home about, but a big deal for little Calvin.”
“Aw little Calvin, is that the name of your penis?”
His eyes narrow, but I can tell he’s amused. His lips pulling between his teeth as he attempts to hold back a smile, still I see it.
My lips pull into a smug smile, “You liked that one.”
“I certainly thought it was creative.”
“It’s what I do.”
The corners of his mouth lift, a small smile resting on his lips as he glances in the direction of the ocean. For a moment, both of us stand and enjoy the view until another yawn escapes me. My arms raise as I stretch, forgetting that when I do that I stretch my skin which includes the burnt skin on my back.
“Ah-oof.” My hand flies to my back, resting against my shirt.
“The after sun is in the fridge,” Calvin says, giving me the answer I am looking for before I ask the question. I move to go get it, but Calvin straightens up, “I’ll get it.”
This new helpful Calvin is one I’m unfamiliar with, but pleasantly surprised by.
“I want to get water anyway,” he adds, “You want?”
“Yes, please.”
He disappears back inside and although I am outside, with an endless supply of cool air against me, I still can’t quite get my body to cool down. The aftersun is a good thing, but knowing that Calvin is going to have to be the one to put the gel on me is something that had a small part of my stomach turning.
Am I nervous? Surely not.
He is just a simple human man - nothing more, nothing less - definitely nothing I have to be nervous about.
But Calvin is constantly catching me off guard, making me feel things I haven’t felt before and the worst part? I like it.
He returns a moment later with two bottles of water in one hand and the after sun bottle in the other. Walking back to where I stand he places them on the floor next to him.
“I’m warning you that it’s going to be cold, so prepare yourself.” He pops open the cap of the bottle, placing some gel on his hands. The strong menthol smell has me blinking a few times, it feels like my eyes are burning from the strength of it.
I turn my back to him, realizing at that moment that there is nothing but my underwear beneath this shirt and I need to lift it to give him access to my burn. Whipping around to face him, I find both his hands are full of gel.
“You burnt your back, Nikita,” he points out with a dry tone.
“I’m aware of that, thank you, Calvin, but I’m also aware of the fact that I don’t have anything underneath here except my underwear so…”
He starts laughing, “You spent most of the day in your bikini and you’re worried about me seeing your underwear?”
“It’s different.”
“Is it, really?” He cocks a questioning eyebrow at me, amusement in his eyes, “If you want to change quickly, go for it. I’ll wait here.”
I shake my head. It’s not that serious.
“It’s fine.” I turn my back towards him once again, lifting the hem of my shirt, holding it high enough to expose my back to him as well as my baby pink boy shorts underwear.
He doesn’t say anything and I don’t look back to see if there is any reaction from him. That being said, I am extremely aware of his eyes on my body. I feel his hands against my body, the gel extra cold now from being in the fridge which sets off a rush of goosebumps across my skin.
“I told you it would be cold,” his voice is a low murmur, blanketing itself against my skin. His voice had a velvety rich rasp that sends a shiver down my spine. I curse myself for being so affected by him - it isn’t as if he has developed a new voice. It’s the same voice that pisses me off whenever he opens his mouth. But now…
Now, I am more interested in what else he can murmur to me.
“It’s fine,” I say, resting my hands against the railing as I lean my body forward, making it easier for him to spread the gel.
“Bite me, huh?”
“What?”
“The phrase on your underwear - bold choice.”
I twist my head, trying to get a look at what he is talking about, only to be reminded that I am in fact wearing my bite me underwear.
Heat spreads across my cheeks and I’m thankful this isn’t happening during the day or he would have immediately seen the embarrassment on my face.
“It was a gift,” I say, dropping my shirt back over my body, abruptly ending the interaction. I can feel he has applied enough gel on my back and honestly, I need to distance myself from Calvin’s touch and not allow this to continue. It does nothing to help the growing pressure between my legs though.
“From who?”
“My ex.”
He scoffs, grabbing the towel that’s hanging over one of the loungers, using it to wipe his hands, “Did you flash that demand at him a lot?”
My eyes narrow on him, amusement on my lips at his choice of question. “I hardly think my bedroom habits are any of your business.”
“That’s not a no.”
I shake my head and laugh, “I don’t think you should be this invested in my underwear.” Glancing at him, my eyes scan over his body before reaching up to meet his gaze.
“It was merely an observation.”
“Mm-hmm.” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth in a quick motion, he sees it, reinforcing the thick tension that has already been intensifying between us. I am not sure what European Nikita is thinking, but her interest in Calvin is jarring.
“I should go back to bed,” I murmur.
“Me too.”
Neither of us move, the palpable charge between us crackling in the air. I can tell he is feeling it too - his eyes are a dead giveaway that there’s something more to this moment. It is the very reason I’m about to make my next comment.
“Are you waiting for a good night kiss?”
“Are you offering?”
I exhale a soft laugh, shaking my head, “Always answering a question with a question.” I step forward - it’s a small step but it’s enough to close the space between us, his natural scent surrounding me.
“Keeps it interesting, don’t you think?”
“Interesting is not the word I would use.”
“What would you use?”
“Annoying.”
“Nah,” he says with a snicker, “You don’t find me nearly as annoying as you think you do.”
He is right, but he doesn’t need to know that.
I lift my hand to his face, lightly tapping his cheek, “Keep telling yourself that, Rhodes.”
And before I can talk myself out of it, I turn around and disappear back into my room.