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I stare at the phone like I can talk myself out of texting Archer. It’s too late, but I can’t sleep, and Archer has insomnia.
Here you are, Katura, good job, fixated on a guy.
Self-taunting doesn’t work, because in a moment, I dial his number.
Of course, he doesn’t answer. But that’s the one thing I’m looking for tonight—the answer to what’s happening with us. I won’t pry it open from him, but there’re ways to know. And before I leave my bungalow, I put his gold chain in my pocket.
I love everything about the tropics but the frequent rains that eventually make the resort look like a playdough kingdom that stood erect for some time and is losing its shape.
It’s dark. My skin is coated by moisture. The rain drums against the leaves, rustles against the tiki huts, and rattles against the tin roofs.
I could’ve rung the bell of Cliff Villa, could’ve knocked. But if Archer senses it’s me, he’ll ignore me as always.
I used to feel adventurous sneaking into his villa. Now I feel like a trespasser.
So what do I do now? Sneak in again. Because if he’s with someone, if he has company, I’ll feel embarrassed standing at his door, explaining that I want a minute of his time.
I go down the path along the lower level of Cliff Villa and crawl over the stone fence among the bushes—I feel awful doing it, but I did it the night of the escort party, and I’m great at making the same mistakes.
I walk along the waterfall wall and up the shadowy stairs toward the pool. It glows blue, like it always does, rain or shine. My face is wet, and so are my hair and clothes. I creep up as I near the pool level and hear a splash.
Someone’s in the pool, in the rain. I walk up the steps that lead to the terrace and take a look.
It’s Archer. Swimming butterfly-style along the pool length.
My heart starts racing at the sight of him and what we used to do in this very pool.
He reaches the end, sets his elbows on the paving edge, and glides his hands along his hair, squeezing out the water, then hangs his head between his arms and bobs above the water for some time.
There are no thoughts in my head, only feelings and senses. The sound of the rain against the stone deck. The sound of my footsteps as I walk along the side of the pool. The sound of blood pounding between my ears.
When did approaching him become so scary?
Another splash, and Archer pushes off the side and swims on his back, rain dripping down his face, his muscled arms making powerful strokes in the water.
Feelings simmer in me with more force than ever. The regret about the things I told him. The hope that he will forgive me one day. The day that will be brighter and happier than any of the previous ones when he wasn’t around.
My heart is ready to explode when he suddenly notices me, turns around in the water, and stops.
“Hey, Arch,” I say, the sound of my voice so overly cheerful, I hate myself for pretending.
He swims toward me and gets out of the pool. Water drips down his toned muscles as he stands in front of me in all his glory. There was a time when all I could think about was his body next to me. There was a time where I could tease him and claim him any time I wanted. All that’s left now is his indifferent gaze, almost confused as if I stumbled into his villa by accident.
“Did you want something?” He picks up a towel from a chaise lounge and ruffles his hair with it, though the rain will get it wet in seconds.
Do I need something?
To talk. To spend time with you. You.
I lick the rainwater off my lips, blinking fast as it gets in my eyes. “Are you busy?” This must be the stupidest question right now.
“I’m expecting someone.”
His movements are a little too edgy, his eyes sparkly, his blinking too slow. He’s been drinking. I know Archer by now. This might not be the best time to have a conversation after all.
I dig into my pocket. “I came to return this.” I stretch my palm toward him, his gold chain coiled in the center of it.
He keeps drying himself with a towel, staring at the chain in my hand.
