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I nibble on some fruit to pace myself while recounting my misfortune. Instead of inquiring about my well-being, he bombards me with annoying questions; I have so many unspoken ones for him. His irritation is unmistakable. Why?
Perplexed, I intend to end on an optimistic and funny note. “But I’m alive thanks to Poseidon!” It falls flat.
“How typical that your urge to rush into the ocean overruled your common sense!”
I freeze. His underlying reproach about my carelessness is more draining than the experience itself. My passion for surfing is one of the reasons that he concocted this trip to Bali. As generous as his anniversary gift is, the idea behind it was to hopefully coax me. Share a place, test the waters, and see how compatible we truly are, especially outside of the bedroom.
As I predicted, we’re not there yet… My boyfriend respects the Cali boy that I am, but he’s more at home in a city; he prefers “cultural outings” and has never wrapped his head around why others pine for the great outdoors. Truth be told, he despises swimming, and surfing would be a non-starter.
The bitter taste of coffee, whether due to my upset stomach or his hurtful words, doesn’t deter me from swallowing the burning liquid and numbing my tastebuds. “I’m going to take a nap.”
“We’re supposed to visit the Nyaman Gallery later this morning.”
I shrug; visiting Kuta doesn’t sound appealing right now. “Let’s go later.” Nausea lingers. “I need to rest.” I get up, about to kiss him before leaving.
“Don’t!” Alex’s hand pushes me away. “You let another man’s lips touch yours.”
Stunned, I gawk and rub the back of my neck. “Are you serious?”
“Watch your tone, Ashton!” His eyes dare me.
I swallow the lump in my throat and don’t apologize. “Nino performed rescue breaths to save my life.” I hate my strangled cry.
“First-name basis, huh?”
Maybe waiting to bring up dinner with Nino is best.
* * *
Awestruck, my eyes are downcast as hiccups begin.What am I, thirteen?The next-door neighbor’s full mouth was so appetizing. My intense staring was so rude. My sexual orientation has never been a secret or an issue for my parents or extended family. Blatantly exposing my attraction to someone is a different story.
Ignoring the elephant in the room, Silas addresses my older cousin, also his high school best friend. A pang of jealousy clenches my chest at how possessive he is of Tom. My uncle’s family is doing their best to make me feel welcome, but I yearn to feelwantedandclaim Tom as my best friend rather than my cousin or foster brother. New home. New family. New life. I can’t shake off the feeling that I don’t belong, even after being legally adopted by them and spending most of the school year here in Santa Monica. Growing up, the distance between Northern California and LA didn’t play in my favor; I’d never even met either of Tom’s younger sisters before. At least, Tom is back from college this summer.
“Yeah, I can teach him, Tom.” Silas’s dark stare remains trained on my cousin. “That is, if you’re interested, Ashton.” His voice turns sultry, and I quiver when my name rolls off of his tongue. He wets his lips as I shoot him a sideway glance. Tom’s right, learning to surf will keep me busy and focused on the present. According to my shrink, I can’t afford to hold on to what I lost.
Our eyes lock for the first time. Commanding gaze. Hollywood smile. Alpha presence. Yup, totally my type! Heat courses through my skin and settles between my legs. I pray that the semi I’m sporting is half-hidden under my T-shirt. Readjusting my shorts, I catch my breath, willing myself to keep a straight face. Even if Silas were into guys, which isn’t a given, he and Tom are in college, and I still have another year of high school. He’s doing Tom a favor, that’s all.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning then, Ashton.” Such a basic sentence. Such a promising sentence. Such a life-altering sentence.
Racing pulse. Parched mouth. Dripping sweat.
What the hell?
My nightmare slowly sinks in. Ever since setting foot in Bali a couple of days ago, my treacherous mind has propelled me to my younger years, and I repeatedly end up short of breath and soaked. Eight years have passed, and Silas Sanchez is tormenting me yet again. So far, our introduction by my favorite person has replayed over and over. As unwelcome as the memory is, I must admit that a sick part of me was happy to see his face again. His intense stare. His well-defined lips. His delectable jawline.
That was then, this is now…
What triggered my vivid imagination? Why am I reliving unwelcome parts of my buried past? How am I going to explain this to Alex if I talk in my sleep as Tom claims I do when I’m stressed?
Damn, I hate it when my hyperactive mind starts a game of Twenty Questions. Playing on my own doesn’t help!
I’ve never disclosed much about my personal life, and Silas is forbidden territory. If I said Silas’s name while dreaming, Alex would have surely brought it up. But then again, his inexplicable reaction yesterday gutted me. We’re celebrating a milestone in our relationship. I don’t understand why he gave me the silent treatment after I woke up from my nap, which did little to calm me.
As commanding as he can be, he’s never been mean before. His exaggerated reaction is interfering with my sleep yet again. My heart sinks just thinking about it; no wonder why the nightmare lingers.
The rhythm of the nearby waves soothes me as I regain consciousness, holding my breath in hopes that my tossing and turning didn’t wake up Alex … that is, if he’s returned.
You see, after a quiet dinner punctuated by a brusque conversation—that I initiated— about our next destination, Alex stormed out. He had the nerve to say, “I’m going to go buy some cigarettes.” He doesn’t even smoke!
