Before I Ever Met You

I exhale loudly, my voice shaking. My aggravation against him is fading—he’s just too close to me in every single way. It’s like I can feel the blood beneath his skin, the way his body is telling me everything I want to hear.

He relaxes slightly, his arms slipping down an inch. My skin is sweaty, hot, the friction of his skin on mine is making my nerves sizzle like an electrical fire. My breasts are nearly popping out of my tank top, the sides of them pressed against his arms. The moon’s light makes them glow, their curves highlighted by a slick sheen of sweat.

Everything around us slows down again, that sticky reduction. My breath swirls in my chest, my heart beating unsteadily at first, then slowing as my body starts to turn on me.

I’m a radio, an antenna; I’m tuning into every feeling between us. My neck is exposed to his mouth; my legs are spread. I’m pulsing with a primitive kind of heat that I hadn’t felt for a long time. The kind that makes you want to close your eyes and give into everything.

My mind is running away on me. No, it’s galloping, a wild horse, desperate to reach a brand-new land. I’m imagining what it would be like if he let his hands slip a few inches lower. Beneath the waistband of my shorts. Under my panties. Down to where I know I’m slick and aching.

The thought makes me stiffen. Not from fear, but from want. A terrible kind of want.

What’s wrong with me?

“You’re very tense,” he whispers to me, his breath tickling my cheek.

I can barely speak. “Because I’m being held against my will.”

“Is that why?” he asks, his voice becoming rougher, huskier. I feel it in my bones.

I try and nod. No sound escapes my mouth.

If I turn my head to look at him, my lips will be just inches from his.

Don’t turn your head.

I turn my head. Meet his eyes.

If there’s a crazy battle raging inside my own heart, battling my mind and hormones, there’s something similar going on inside his. I see myself in his eyes, the confusion, the fight.

The lust.

But like always, it can’t be anything more than what I want to see.

I close my eyes and move my head away.

He makes a sound that might be disappointment.

His arms loosen, then come off of me.

“Promise you won’t go anywhere,” he says. He sounds gravely, torn up. “No matter how much you hate me.”

“I promise,” I tell him. And against everything I’d felt in the last five minutes, I get up and move away from him, lying back down against the wall in the fetal position.

Neither of us say anything for a few minutes. The air is too heavy. Not with humidity but with things unsaid. After everything, I feel like we’re back at square one with each other, back into the roles we knew each other in before. I’m no better to understanding him, if anything I’m even more confused.

And then his deep voice punctuates the darkness.

“Goodnight, Ronnie.”

It’s a small victory.





11





I wake up the next morning to the sound of the choppers. Logan is already up, gathering our stuff. If he’s acting any different toward me because of last night, he doesn’t show it. And why should he? Nothing happened. It was just a fight that never got resolved. In the end, he’s still my boss, still my sister’s widower.

In the light of day everything looks better. Your big problems of the night before are condensed until you see them for what they really are. In our case, it’s nothing. Logan is my boss. I like my job. Everything that’s going right in my life doesn’t hinge on my relationship with him. We don’t owe each other anything other than service and a paycheck.

With that new resolve, I’m more than happy to start heading back home. Of course, nothing comes easy, and the helicopter rescue proves to be just as scary as crossing the water the day before. The water is still high and roaring, so the helicopters take each stranded hiker one by one and physically deposits them on the other side of the stream. Which means everyone is getting in a tiny half-cage, kind of like one of those wicker swing-chairs from the 70’s, and being flown across the stream.

Everyone except for me. I’m known as the girl who went down the river and nearly died. All the hikers are praising Logan as a hero, and when I hear them describe the event to some of the rescue crew, I feel deeply ashamed of even fighting with him last night. Apparently when I was swept downstream, Logan immediately went into the water after me. I was under the impression that he ran down the shore and then cut in, but thinking back, there’s no way he would have been able to reach me so fast if he’d done that.

No, instead he jumped in the water and let it carry him down the same path. The only difference was when he hit the final pool, the water deposited him more to the side, which gave him just enough time and strength to reach in and get me.

Before I can even say anything to him though, I’m bundled into a helicopter by myself and flown all the way to the hospital in Lihue. The last thing I see is Logan’s stern face as I rise into the sky.

Lucky for me, I don’t have to stay that long in the hospital. I have some bruises and a large gash on my hip that I hadn’t noticed that needed some stitches, but other than that I’m unscathed.

And incredibly lucky. The doctors and nurses go on to tell me how many hikers are killed by that stream alone each year, as if I haven’t heard all the stories of fucking killer island already.

When I’m released from the hospital Kate is there to pick me up, loitering in the waiting room. The minute she sees me, she runs forward and gives me a big hug then gasps, apologizing for possibly hurting me.

To be honest, I didn’t feel a thing. This is the first I’ve seen Kate act like more than just a roommate and I have to admit, I’m pretty touched that I managed to make an impression on her so far.

She’s got her new car that she bought a few weeks ago (“I don’t want to be at the mercy of the shuttle or Charlie anymore”), a used but still slick Honda Civic hatchback that she can shove her short board in the back of.

We stop in Kapa’a to get some coffees from Java Kai. They didn’t exactly serve the stuff in the hospital and I can barely remember the last time I had a cup. Everything seems like such a blur.

I’ve been to the coffee shop a few times since that day I arrived when I was with Charlie and the redhead behind the counter has been increasingly nice to me, though I still think she gives me a bit of the stink-eye.

But that’s been nothing compared to what I see with Kate.

I’m first in line, ordering a shot of noni (which is a horrible tasting fruit elixir that does wonders for your insides) and my usual banana coconut mocha iced drink and the redhead gives me the head nod—no smile—while she takes my order.

When Kate steps up to place her order though, the redhead's eyes narrow into little blue slits, the line deepening between her penciled brows. I could feel Kate stiffening up a bit as we made our way through the line, moving her weight from one foot to the other, but I didn't think anything of it until now.