“That was your first younger guy?”
She nodded as the door opened and Jasmine looked to me to check her face for traces of weepy black streaks. When I nodded to let her know she was in the clear, we remained in the hammock as Ian greeted us.
“So, we’re off.” He looked mouthwatering in board shorts and a T-shirt that stretched over his new build. Gray eyes implored the both of us. “Julian said you won’t join us either, Jasmine. You two sure you won’t change your minds?”
“Nope, we’re going to hang out here—girl stuff.”
He nodded unsure of how to leave me. Making it easy, I stood and planted a wet kiss on his lips. Smiling into my kiss, he gripped me tightly to him and deepened it before he pulled away. I smoothed his cheek with my palm before I leaned in on a whisper. “See you later… pleasure prince.”
Rewarded with another smile, I sank back into the hammock as Drew, Doug, and Julian stomped down the steps. Julian paused halfway to the alley and gripped Jasmine’s hand over the railing. “See you tonight?”
“Sure.”
“Have fun, fellas,” I called out as they made their way toward Ian’s truck. We eavesdropped as they packed their coolers.
“So, you’re going to see her tonight?”
I think it was Drew who asked.
“Hell yes, if she’ll have me.”
Jasmine and I shared shit-eating grins.
“She doesn’t know you well enough to deny you,” Doug said. “But it’s nice to know someone’s getting laid around here.”
“You’re married, dude.”
“Exactly, like I said, it’s nice to know someone is getting laid.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Drew said as the truck doors collectively opened.
“She won’t even let me take my socks off in bed anymore.”
Julian spoke up next. “Have you seen your fucking feet, man? Get a damned pedicure already, or hacksaw or something. Get a little man care going on.”
I covered my mouth as Jasmine gripped my thigh.
“What kind of pussy gets a pedicure?”
Two of them spoke up in unison, “I do.”
Ian spoke up next. “Don’t look at me, no one touches my feet. But hey, do any of you guys know what blasted means?” The truck doors slammed as Jasmine and I sank into the hammock with tears of laughter pouring down our faces.
LATER THAT NIGHT, FOUR SUNBURNED and drunken Marines came barreling through my front door with victorious stories about being captains at sea. Doug, I had learned, was always the first to pass out and went straight to his guest room. Julian and Jasmine made themselves scarce as Drew and Ian faced off in a game of dominoes. Games seemed to be the guys bonding medium. I pretended to read my book while spying on their progress.
“You are a sloppy drunk, figure it out,” Ian slurred.
“I’m working on it.”
“Working on losing your ass,” Ian said. “You already owe me fifty for the bet on the boat. You need to go ahead and cough it up now.”
“Put it on my tab.” He snickered at Ian as he popped open another beer.
“I best not have to clean up after your ugly ass tonight.”
“Calm down, Mom, I can handle another beer.”
Drew downed his beer in spite and Ian looked my way and gave me a drunken smile. “Hey, you.”
I couldn’t help my giggle. “Hey back.”
Drew leaned over the table and spoke in nothing close to the whisper he was aiming for. “You two are soooo cute. You’re sleeping with a supermodel, we get it.”
“I can hear you, Drew,” I said, turning a page.
“Well, I hope you take it as a compliment. Hey asshole, here’s your fifty. I’m out.”
“It was earned,” Ian said, pocketing the money as Drew gave me a wave goodnight before turning it into the bird for Ian. I laughed as he retreated while Ian sauntered over to me, close to rearranging the furniture with his drunken sea legs.
“And it’s time for bed for you.”
His perma-smile only got wider. “I’ll agree to that.”
“Not that kind of bedtime, professor.”
He pushed his lips out in a pout which was so unlike him, and I laughed.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said as I pulled his arm around my neck.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I think you’re stronger than you think you are. Much.”
“Ian, please don’t try to fix me.”
“I’m not. I swear, I’m not.”
“Did you Google anxiety and now you’re an expert?”
“Give me credit, I know it’s more complex to understand than watching a YouTube video.”
We stumbled down the hall and he pulled away from me, pointing an index finger at my lips.
“Hey, did you know miraculous things can happen more than once? It happens. It happens every day to someone who says never. I mean you think you know. You’re sure of it and it all falls apart or fades away and you can’t remember when it happened. Do you understand?”
I shook my head. “No clue.”
“Pity, try to keep up. It’s not simple, any of it. Not one part of life is simple. There are no arrows to guide you that help you make one fucking thing simple. Every important decision is complicated because it leads to more decisions. You decided to step into my life, instead of sipping tea.”
“Coffee,” I said with a smirk.
“A beverage,” he said in drunken agitation. “Anyway, emotions are a horrible catalyst for making decisions that matter. And some choices aren’t yours, they float away on a cloud of emotions and come back made for you. Committing to how you feel is a recipe for disaster.” He stumbled into my bedroom and I followed, tempted to kick him right in his smug ass. To my horror, he continued his reverie.
“All of it’s ridiculous and cruelly unnatural for a realist.”
“That’s, uh, sad, Ian, if that’s your outlook, and horribly put by someone who claims to be an educator. It’s a good thing you don’t teach philosophy, professor.”
Ignoring my comment, he struggled with his sneakers as he began to undress.
“Free will is a bitch, puffer fish, and half the time it’s got both signals on which can only confuse you further.”
“Ah, the ponderings of a drunken sailor.”
“Marine,” he said, looking up at me pointedly, “and don’t you forget it.”
“Right.”
He ripped off his shirt and glared at me. “You aren’t taking me seriously.”
“Oh, I’m listening.”
“Good, you should.”
“I was taught young to listen to my elders.”
“Cute, that’s the second time you’ve made fun of my age. I’ll be reddening your ass for that.”
“I look forward to it.”
“So, I’m finally free to be a little selfish and I intend on enjoying every moment of it.”
“Haven’t we already had this conversation? I’m on your side and kudos to you.”
“Look, I know this,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been through this before, so I know this mystery, the need, the goddamn ache in my chest.”
“Ian—”
He slowly raised his head, his glossy eyes boring into mine. “You’re so beautiful.” It sounded agonizing coming from his lips as if it were a burden for him.
“So are you.” The irony was his beauty was just as much of a burden for me.
“I’m smashed, Koti.”
“I’ve gathered that.”
“You really are the most…” his voice turned hoarse, “what’s inside of you is a heart that is dying to live, and your head is too afraid to let you do it fully, the way you deserve. It’s the most tragic thing I’ve ever seen. You’re a prisoner of your own making.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said, crossing my arms despite my ache to touch him.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Good to know.”
“But what your mind won’t let you understand is you can’t control a single fucking thing. Control is an illusion and all your home remedies for coping aren’t ever going to change that.”
“I’m aware. This isn’t news, Ian. In fact, it’s redundant, and it changes nothing.”
“Exactly, because anxiety stems from emotion, it doesn’t listen to reason.”
He wasn’t saying it for me, to help me understand, he was explaining it to himself, so he could understand me.
“What’s your point?”
He laid down and threw his arm over his face. “The point is—I don’t believe in miracles, but I’m falling for mine.”