Someone Else's Ocean

Ian opened the bottle and handed me another prescribed pill along with the bottled water I’d left on my table. I took the pill and swallowed it, overwhelmed by a fresh wave of cramping. I bared my teeth and grunted as it hit hard.

“Jesus, Koti, what’s wrong?” It was odd seeing his concern for me. We’d remained complete strangers in his first few weeks on the island, yet I had felt the need to protect him from his own hurt. Maybe he was beginning to remember that for a few weeks, and endless summers ago, we were childhood friends.

“It will pass. I just want to sleep.”

“Okay.” He stood watching me shake for several moments before he reluctantly made his way off the porch.

Hours later I awoke in a sweaty heap. The sun had set and the only light was the moon’s half glow. When I tried to shift in the hammock, I realized there was an arm wrapped around me. It tightened as I moved to get up.

Ian’s smooth voice rumbled behind me. “Feeling better?”

I wanted to ask him what in the hell he was doing. I wanted to fight him and throw his comforting efforts away as he had mine, but in truth, it felt amazing being in his arms. Suddenly, I was aware of his breath on my neck and the gentle stroke of his fingers on my stomach. The breeze covered us both as I laid mute, too exhausted to argue instead embracing his rare gift of comfort.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a bastard,” he whispered, his apology sounding sincere. “Sleep.”

I eased back into his strong hold as he took small liberties with his fingers. The weight of his body behind me was a reassuring reprieve from the constant ache. He pulled me tighter as the ocean breeze drifted over us. I pressed myself further into him and gripped the hand that stroked me as another debilitating wave took hold. I breathed through it as he murmured into my hair. Body tense, I cried quietly in his arms until I slipped back into an exhausted sleep.

I barely stirred when the hammock moved some time later and when I woke up, I was alone.

A few days later, I emerged from my house feeling as if I’d been through a war. Ian had knocked on my door twice, but I couldn’t bring myself to open it. As I walked down the steps to get to my Jeep, I saw him unload a handful of wood onto his deck, his eyes intent on me. “You’re better then?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Ian’s eyes lowered to my sandals. “I see you are still fond of those dreadful gold sandals, but they suit you.”

I smiled at him and he back at me.

“Oh, I remember you, puffer fish. And your tacky sandals.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, I’ll ignore that snarky comment, seeing as how you aren’t being a complete ass today.”

In our short summer together, years ago, he’d poked fun at my sandals when I refused to take them off. As a six-year-old, I was convinced my few wardrobe staples in life would be my father’s Fruit of the Loom white T-shirts that fell below my knees, gold belt, and matching sandals. I had a thing for Greek mythology, especially Aphrodite and I hadn’t really grown out of it.

I shrugged, looking down to admire my new sandals. “Some things don’t change.”

“But some things do,” he said carefully, studying me closely in my spaghetti strap white sundress. The morning sun’s effect paled in comparison to the current of heat that swept through me as our eyes locked. Ian broke contact first, pulling a hammer from one of the bags on the porch. With the way he swung that hammer, I felt like I had my very own Greek deity, my own Sucellus in front of me.

He paused his hammer briefly when I ripped my eyes away and moved to leave. “I apologize again,” he offered, a small smile on his freshly licked lips, “repeatedly.”

“You’re forgiven,” I said, watching a drop of sweat from the tip of his chin drip down to his navel and disappear below his waistband. I’d never wanted to be a drop of sweat so much in my life. “I’m off to work. If you need anything…”

“Koti, I’ll take it from here,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I lingered in hopes of more conversation, but Ian turned his back and grabbed a box of nails. “Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Inside my Jeep, I stared at the ocean that lay beyond our houses.

Decades of life separated the two of us and I was more curious than ever of what his years held.

Nine hours later, I came home to a ripped and colorful sky. I went straight from my Jeep to the rocky shore and put my aching feet in the water. I glanced over my shoulder to see the Kemp house was dark. It didn’t surprise me in the least. Ian was still struggling with his hurts and didn’t want to share them. Pain didn’t disappear overnight. He needed time. He had wounds to lick. Another few days of silence between our houses confirmed as much.

SHE HAD TO BE THE most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life and that was saying much. I’d been on every continent and to places most human eyes had never seen and even the most exotic-looking women couldn’t hold a candle to her. It wasn’t just her soul-filled eyes, perfect face, or full lips, her body was every man’s dream—petite, toned, curves, day-long legs, and perfect feet. She was a wet dream and the kicker was, she had no knowledge of it or at least didn’t use it to her advantage. From what I could tell she hadn’t a clue of just how attractive she was. Holding her that day in the hammock, her pained cries had been agony for me. I ended up taking too many liberties with my fingers. I knew how soft the skin of her stomach was. I’d traced the curve of her hips and reveled in the way she fit inside my arms. After hours of studying her beautiful face partially covered by sun-bleached hair, I had to get the hell out of that hammock. I was there to comfort her and grew unbearably hard as the minutes passed. The need to touch her more intimately had my skin on fire. She was in a great deal of pain and though it bothered me to see her in such a state, I had no idea how holding her that way would affect me. And it had, so much so that I couldn’t stop fantasizing about her days after.

I slammed the hammer down as I tried to reason with myself. She looked so beautiful this morning in that dress with freshly glossed lips. My first instinct was to close the space to rid her of it and smear that gloss with my lips and cock.