The Opportunist

Chapter Eleven



The Past





“Do you love me?”

“I’m sorry—what?!”

“Do you love me? That’s a simple enough question. Would you prefer if I asked you in another language?” He rolled from his back onto his belly, rearing up above me. “M'aimez-vous? Você ama-me tanto como o amo?” Caleb, who was fluent in French and Italian, was showing off. The grass beneath my back began to itch like his question.

We had been dating for exactly one year and I had successfully skirted, ignored, and deferred my way through not answering it. It was hard work putting any of those techniques into use when Caleb Drake was inches away from your face, staring at you with his intense eyes. I took a deep breath to level myself and thought about the millions of starving children in Africa. We were in Georgia, camping much to my chagrin. I was tired and sweaty and wearing the same pair of pants that I wore the day before. We had been here for twenty-four hours and all I had received other than this rather obtuse question, was a bazillion bug bites and sore muscles.

“When I get home, I’m going to sponsor one of those kids from Kenya,” I said scratching my knee. “You know—from those Children’s Fund commercials?”

Caleb gave me a look.



“I…I…love…ice cream…” I said squirming underneath his gaze. “And I love hot showers and clean clothes.”



“Olivia?” he said in a warning voice.



“Caleb,” I imitated his tone. He frowned at me and I looked away. It wasn’t like I was holding back the Canaan wine here. He hadn’t said I love you to me either, though he asked me this question often enough.



“Why do you always ask me that?” I sighed, ripping a piece of grass from the ground. I began tearing it into little shreds and tossing it to the breeze.

“Why do you never answer?”



“Because it’s a hard question.”



“It’s a yes or no, actually. You have a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right.”



If only it were that simple. Did I love him at this point? I loved him from the first point…the point where our two lives crossed the first time. I couldn’t tell him that though, I didn’t know how and every time I tried, the words would get stuck in my throat.

“You’re pressuring me.” I pushed him away and sat up dusting my hands on my sweats.



Caleb sprang to his feet, paced, and then turned around to face me. He was seething.



“I’ve never pressured you to do anything.”



I felt my face turn white. It was true. It was a lousy thing to say to a twenty-three year old man who never complained when his girlfriend always stopped short of second base.

“You’re trying to make me say something that I’m not ready to say,” I choked looking away.



“I’m trying to find out where we are going. Olivia. I already know you love me.”



I glared up at him in shock and he shrugged.



“The fact that you can’t say it—is a problem. I love you.”



My lip trembled. Pathetic, but it did. I felt my chest heaving in an effort to breathe. He loved me.



“You can’t say it because you don’t trust me. If you don’t trust me, I can’t be with you.”



I felt panic swell in my chest. Was he threatening me?



He was still towering over me, so I stood up. It didn’t do much good because he was a foot taller.



“I hate you,” I said and he started laughing.



“You fight like a child. I’m not dealing with you.” And he walked away, leaving me both utterly bewildered and buzzing in excitement from this new information. He loved me. I collapsed back into the grass and smiled up at the sky.



Later, when I grew tired of sulking by the lake, I went back to our tent and moped around. Caleb had yet to appear from wherever he stalked off to and I was getting hungry. I was digging around in our food stash when he walked through the flap of our fancy tent. Our eyes met and I dropped the bag of pretzels I was holding. Something was wrong, there was trouble written on his face. Was he going to break up with me now? I prepared myself and lined up some nasty things to say to him.

“You’re spoiled.”



“I’m an orphan,” I pointed out. “Who is there to spoil me?”



“I spoil you. I let you get away with too much. I give you free reign, and you take advantage.”



“You don’t own me, to give me free reign,” I said narrowing my eyes at him. “What an a*shole thing to say.” I turned away but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.

“I own you,” he said pulling me against his chest and holding me there. I stared up at him openmouthed.

“No,” I shook my head, but I wasn’t so sure what we were talking about anymore.

My wrists were tiny and they were clamped so securely in his big hands, that I didn’t even bother trying to pull away.

“Let me go.”



He held me tighter. We were so close I could feel his breath on my face.



“Who owns you then?” he challenged.



“Me. Not you, not anyone else…ever.” I felt petulant and foolish, but I lifted my nose in the air anyway and glared at him. Caleb’s eyes were cold and hard. He laughed at me, a deep throaty laugh. Then he looked down into my eyes and said;

“You are master of your own body, yes?”



“Yes,” I spat. Lava-like anger was erupting inside of me. I was ready to let the white trash out.



“Then you won’t have a problem controlling it,” he finished, and I stared at him through angry eyes—confused.





“What?”



He let go of my wrists, or more appropriately flung them away, but before I could move, he’d grabbed me around my waist and pulled me against him.

He kissed me, not a normal Caleb kiss, but a fierce moving of his mouth over mine. He was so in control of my mouth that I couldn’t have kissed back if I’d wanted to.

My hands pushed against his chest, trying to move the rock of him away, but it was useless.

My body started pounding in response to his touch. It was so powerful, I was sure I was going to split in half.

I picked up on the rhythm of his lips and returned his kisses, pressure for pressure, bite for bite. He broke away from my lips just when I had the hang of it and grabbed a fistful of my hair pulling my head back so that he had access to my neck.

Caleb peeled away from me and for a second I’d thought I’d won. But instead of backing away, he grabbed my t-shirt by the collar and with one tug, ripped it from top to bottom. My limp arms provided no traction and it fluttered to the ground. I stared, disbelievingly at him, and he grabbed me again, kissing my shoulders, running his lips over my collar bone. My bra came off, with a flick of his fingers and suddenly my legs lost their will to stand. Caleb scooped me up from behind my knees and placed me on my back, coming to rest on top of me. I wasn’t providing a shred of resistance at this point. My mind had stopped working—stopped making excuses. I was tangled up in the moment and for once I didn’t mind.

“Are you still in control?” he said this into my hair, as his hands climbed my thigh. I wrapped myself around him and nodded into his neck. Sure, I was. I was making a conscious decision to go along with this little roll we were having. I desperately wished that he would just shut up and get on with it.

“Stop me,” he said. “If you’re in control, then stop me.”

His hand was at the junction of my thighs now and stopping him was the last thing I wanted to do. I dug my nails into his arms in response. Caleb grabbed at the waistband of my sweatpants and tugged them down. Everything was blurry—everything except what I wanted to happen.

“Who owns you?” he said.

What? Weren’t we past this already?

I opened my eyes and looked up at him and I started to grasp what was happening. Caleb still had all of his clothes on while I was lying on the floor in my panties. I had lost complete control. He was playing with me. I let my body go limp and looked into his face.

“Who owns you?” he repeated more gently, placing his palm over the spot where my heart sat. He was right. He had my heart and every other piece of flesh that was attached to it. He wasn’t being a chauvinist. He was telling me something. I thought about sticking to my first reaction but the adult in me was struggling to get out.

“You.”

He stopped moving and I could feel his back heaving as he breathed. We were cheek to cheek, his arms resting on either side of my body. In one giant movement, he sprang off of me, and landed on his feet like a cat.

“Thank you.” He straightened his collar and then he walked out of the tent and left me—on the floor in nothing but my panties.

I burst into tears.