Disclaimor: I own nothing.
Chapter one.
The move had been good for Lisa.
She looked out the small window in her house and sighed contentedly, rubbing her sore arms. Her days had picked up a soothing rhythm. Up at 5am, jog on the beach, pick up a frappucino on the way to work, and after work, if she wasnt too beat, out clubbing with her girlfriend, Taylor. She walked over to the fridge, and pulled out a carton of orange juice. She poured herself a glass, and before drinking it, held the cool glass against her hot forehead. She had to get her air conditioner repaired. It was too damn hot in Hawaii without it.
The higher-ups at the Lux Atlantic had had no problem getting her a managerial job at the Hawaii branch, and she couldnt help but love it there. She loved the way it got hot at four in the morning and didnt cool off until eleven at night. She loved the quick, violent storms, and the way that no matter what time it was, there were always people surfing on the water.
She put her glass in the sink, and grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer, rubbing it against her aching arms. She had gotten into the habit of rock-climbing on the weekends. It caused a roughness in her hands that she was absurdly proud of.
It was 6pm on Sunday, which meant that she had just gotten back from Rocks-a-lot (her indoor rock-climbing gym) and was sweaty and exhausted. She couldnt wait to change into her bathing suit and go for a swim on the beach in front of her house, but first she had to call her dad. She thought privately that if she didnt call every couple days he would hop on a flight and come check up on her. She picked up her cordless and punched in his number without even looking at the keypad.
"Hello?"
"hi dad."
"Lisa!" His voice was warm and excited. "How is my princess?"
"Fine."
"You sound tired."
"I've been rock climbing all day with Mark."
"How is he?"
"He's Mark."
"Is he respecting your boundaries?"
Lisa stopped, pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it incredulously. Only her father.
"Dad, hes fine. He's a good friend, and I dont want anything more than that right now." "Does he?"
Lisa rolled her eyes. Mark was someone she had met at Rocks-a-lot, while they were both there one day, climbing solo. He had started talking to her about techniques, and soon they were swapping stories and favorite climbing spots. Then, he's loaned her his caribeaner...and they'd been friends ever since. They always climbed together, belayed each other, and went out cliff-climbing as necessary partners. He was quick to make her laugh, and also quick to catch her arm if she ever started to fall, (which was rare) but she had tried never to take their relationship any further. To this end, she made a point top never see him anywhere but a climbing location. She thought she had made her limits perfectly clear, and he had never tested them.
"I dont think so, dad. I have to go."
"Have fun, and be safe.
"Be good, dad."
"Love you!"
"Love you too."
Lisa hung the phone up and walked over to her bedroom, thinking about her father's questions. She pictured Mark in her head. He was a few inches taller than her, with tan skin and chocolatey brown eyes that revealed his hawaiian heritage. He had wavey black hair that fell to his eyes, and a body that was hard and muscular from climbing and surfing his whole life. Sure, he was attractive. Sure, Taylor had been telling her to go for it ever since she'd gotten a look at him the one time she'd met Lisa at a climb site. But whenever she imagined asking him to meet her for coffee, she would suddenly feel cold in her stomach and sweaty and unsure of where her feet were. Then she would remind herself: he was her friend; that was that.
She quickly stripped, dropping her sweaty, dusty clothes into the hamper, pulling her still-wet bathing suit from her bed. She was proud of the bathing suit. Taylor had helped her pick it out. It was a bikini, with a halter top and tight, form-fitting bottom. It was something that she never would have allowed herself to ever try on in the past, let alone buy. It was pale green, bringing out her eyes and her well-earned tan, with a gold buckle between the breasts and at each side of the bottom. She knew she looked amazing in it, and it never failed to bring her confidence up. She pulled it on, grimacing at its clamminess. She looked into the mirror, and felt good. But she didn't wear it for the men that stared, or the women that smiled appreciatively. She wore it for herself.
And in the back of her mind, she knew she wore it for him.
She closed her eyes, and for a split second, saw the ice-blue ones that still haunted her dreams every single night.
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Jackson was enjoying hawaii. He was there for two reasons: he was on a fact-finding mission regarding his newest assignment, a foreign politician who was embezzling money from some unseemly sources, and he was also on vacation. He had a deep love of the ocean; it could be as angry and ruthless as he was. It also hid its true nature with a beautiful deep blue facade, similar to his eyes. He felt a kindred spirit in it, when he was standing on the beach as the sun went down, hands in his pockets. He felt that if he ever were to settle down, it would have to be near the ocean
Not like that was coming any time soon though.
He was excited about his newest assignment. It was high-profile, meaning that his employers were starting to trust him again. They had been very forgiving about his massive fuck-up, but understandably nervous about entrusting him with delicate matters. But he knew that, given enough time, they would reward him. Because everyone knew that he was the best.
Therefore, his rates were the highest, which was why he could afford the deliciously expensive bungalow that he was staying in. It was right on the beach, in a good part of town, with a beautiful view of islands in the distance. He knew it was all temporary, but he lived in the now. He did not dwell on the future. Or the past.
Though he sometimes needed to remind himself of that.
At times, when he was out walking, he'd see a familiar eye shape, or the turn of a shoulder, or maybe just a shift in position that made him clench his jaw uncontrollably. He would conciously have to relax himself, although he wasn't sure what the emotion was that he was feeling. Probably rage. With him, everything was usually either cool detachment or rage. A few times, he had followed a girl with auburn hair for forty-five minutes while she did her shopping, only to have her turn to face him at last and her lips would be too small or her eyes would be blue, or some other feature would be wrong, but whatever it was, it wasnt her. Then he would shake himself, and possibly get drunk.
He knew she wasnt here. She would still be in miami, with her stupid life, and her stupid job, and her stupid friends, and the stupid way her eyes lit up when she smiled...
Jackson sat at his desk, trying not to think thoughts. Thoughts were bad. Actions were good. Actions that made him money that he could send to his private account in the Caymen Islands. He thought about the things he could buy with all his money. He smiled. He would go out tonight. Screw the fact that it was a Sunday. He wanted some booze, some company, and some good music. He would go to The Matchstick tonight.