CHAPTER 15
IN TOO DEEP
Light fills into the room, coaxing me out of my deep sleep into wakefulness. It takes me a second to realize where I am, and in just who's place I'm sleeping over at. There's a large dresser to the right of me, with a collection of cologne bottles and aftershave. There's a sliding door near it, halfway open, which presumably opens up into someone's own bathroom suite.
There's no posters or girly things in this room. It isn't Kate's room, obviously. Last night comes to me slowly, the memory, in fractured slow pieces. Turning up, lying that I had nowhere else to go. Christian and I dancing to Frank Sinatra, then... kissing. I press my lips together to stop a happy smile at the thought, my cheeks gushing with heat. Someone's breathing loudly next to me, and they're huddled around me, their body pressed up against my back. I peer down, careful not to move too much as their breaths tickle my hair.
A strong muscular long arm is draped over my waist beneath the sheets. I'm spooning someone, and they're still off, dreaming away.
Christian. I asked to come into his room last night, overcome with courage. He'd said yes.
And now, here I am, and we're spooning, his bare feet wedged between mine.
We're spooning. I'm actually in bed, spooning with my best friend's dad.
His breaths keep tickling the back of my head. Careful to be quiet and to keep the noise as minimal as possible, I shift over onto my back, turning my chin to glance beside me. His heads on the same pillow as mine, and since I've moved the way I have on the pillow, our faces become extra close now.
I never once imagined I'd be doing this. Spooning and sharing the same bed as my best friend's father, the man I've had a crush on ever since I'd 1st met him. Yet here we are. And what a good view it is.
Slowly, I run my eyes down his face while he sleeps. I should be freaking out about sleeping in the bed with my best friend's father, but I can say with confidence that I'm not. This feels like the best moment of my entire life, cheesy as it is.
Christian, Mr Grey, sleeping, looks somehow different than usual. His mouth is slightly parted as he breathes. He looks younger, more carefree. Not stressed, in a sense.
My eyes drift down to the front of the shirt he's wearing while I lick my lips, moistening them.
Our whispered conversations in the dark last night come back to me, as well. How he'd told me of his childhood, something I never even knew about him. And the scars I'd seen on his chest- I'd always assumed that there must have been some heroic story behind them, like he'd had heart surgery or he'd been attacked and had fought off a shark. Not that he'd actually gone through something so traumatic as a child.
I guess that goes to show that, simply by looking at someone, you should never assume you know what it is that they've been through.
I wonder if Kate knows about his childhood, if he's spoken to her and told her about what he's went through, as part of a daughter-father bonding thing. I can't remember Kate ever telling me anything like that. But surely they've spoken about it, right?
I remember, out of curiosity, asking my mother what it was like when she'd grown up, and how her parents were when they raised her. Isn't that sort of the question every child asks their parents?
I find myself wanting to kiss him. I could easily do it, leaning over towards his face, yet I feel suddenly too shy to. Sadly, I think all my bravery last night has ran over it's quota and it's slowly working its way up to getting replenished again. Still, I think back to last night, how it felt, us kissing. His lips had felt surprisingly rough and warm, but that's probably due to the stubble he's sporting. God, I kissed my best friend's dad and now, we're sleeping in the same bed together!
And what's worse, I don't feel bad at all. There are no regrets whatsoever. Just... pure plain happiness.
He makes a little abrupt snorting noise that I find far more adorable than I probably should. Then, slowly, his eyes blink open, a hazy, distant, sleepy grey. He blinks heavily at me several times, looking around the room. Then I see the shift, the mental connection of him remembering me coming into his bedroom too.
"Good morning," he murmurs, and he rolls slightly on his back, putting distance between us. "How did you sleep?"
"Morning. I slept surprisingly well."
"Me too, actually." He lifts up a hand, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. His voice is thick and deep with sleep. "Strange."
"Strange? What is?"
"I don't think I've ever slept this well in quite a while."
"I know the feeling." I hesitate, biting down on my bottom lip with my teeth. That heat returns to my cheeks again at the realization. "I realize I've never slept with someone else before. Well, a person of the opposite sex, I mean. Despite that, I slept really good myself."
"Believe me, it's a new thing for me as well," Christian says. Then he frowns, backtracking on his comment. "Well, not the sleeping with someone else part, because I was married to a woman since I was 18 but the... daughter's friend part, of course."
Sadly, to my disappointment we don't get to talk some more while in bed together.
Suddenly we both become aware of a noise, like someone's unlocking the front door to his place. Someone has a key. Shit, is it Kate? Is she home from her Mom's early?
"Hey, Grey. You being a lazy fart and are sleeping in for once?" It takes me a moment to process what I hear. "You haven't forgotten about our golfing game now, have you?" Just like that, I remember. Oh, Taylor. His security man and their regular golf games every Saturday morning.
Panicked, I turn, glancing at Christian nervously. I almost expect him to freak out in a major way. Even kick me out. But to my surprise- or maybe more like relief- he simply blinks at me with wide-eyes for a few seconds, then swallows audibly.
"Oh, shit," he grumbles under his breath, then he climbs out of the bed, dressed in very short shorts. I get a nice view of his long, muscular legs as he hurriedly rushes past me towards his dresser. "Shit, Taylor. Shit." Rummaging through his dresser, he grabs a pair of jeans. Then he steps into them and slides them on quickly, panting shallowly. "I completely forgot about Taylor coming around for golf."
"You want me to go into Kate's room?" I ask quietly, because he still hasn't told me what to do.
"No, no, it's fine." He runs a hand through his hair, trying to make himself look more decent, I guess. "But if you could just do me a favor?"
"Sure?"
"Just... please, try to pretend as though you're not here. I mean, try not to let Taylor see you. Since Kate isn't here, he'll find it suspicious that-" And he doesn't need to say more.
"No, I get it. I'll stay unseen."
CHRISTIAN POINT OF VIEW
Fuck, I'd completely forgotten that Taylor comes around for our competitive game of golf, as a way to relax and unwind. Why am I so goddamn forgetful? I suppose I'll blame it on the glasses of alcohol last night.
I feel Anastasia's eyes on me while I literally run around the bed, yanking open the drawer to where my clothes are. I'll just have to make do with what I've slept in, the T-shirt, because I know I don't have much time. I can't even have the time to feel self-conscious as I tug on my jeans, doing up the fly, while trying to make my hair seem more presentable.
Besides, if Taylor's really going to get suspicious, I can always blame it on getting drunk and having a hangover, so long as Anastasia remains unseen. He cannot see her.
I hate to do it to her, I hate to seem like an asshole but there's really no other way. If Taylor finds out that Anastasia's here while my daughter is away, if Taylor finds out we even slept in the same room together... "Just... please, try to pretend as though you're not here. I mean, try not to let Taylor see you. Since Kate isn't here, he'll find it suspicious that-"
"No, I get it. I'll stay unseen."
I wince at the sound of her voice, turning towards her. She sounds utterly fine with it, yet I have my doubts. But when I scrutinize her face carefully while she sits there, the half of her body swaddled in the sheets, long hair slightly messy from the pillow, she seems absolutely fine with it.
I stare at her a moment longer while I hear Taylor downstairs again.
"Hey, man. Where are you? You know, it's not like you to sleep in late! You doing okay up there?"
There's something alluring about her, the way she looks, bright-eyed and fresh from sleep. She looks, dare I even admit it, tempting- like the sight of her alone is calling me and tempting me back to the bed to lay beside her. Why the fuck does she have to look so effortlessly, innocently adorable right now?
"Grey?" Taylor's voice tears me out of my little moment, and suddenly I'm overwhelmed with anxiety again. Shit. Seeing as Taylor has a 15 year old daughter, he'd castrate me if he ever found out- not that I'd blame him. I'd do the same as well. Then I hear the clinking of glass bottles downstairs. "Ah, it's no wonder you've slept in, man! Look at all this booze!"
"Hurry," Anastasia mouths urgently, waving her hand, ushering me away. "Go!" And it's all I need.
Raking my fingers through my hair once more while hoping to God the shirt that I've slept in doesn't look too bad, I head downstairs, calling back to Taylor. I find him in the kitchen, the gin and vodka bottles I drank from last night laid there for him to see.
"How you doing today, man?" Taylor reaches over, clapping me on the back. I can only be grateful that there's nothing of Anastasia's belongings here downstairs right now, no evidence. "You feeling up to our usual game?" His eyes roam over my face and I wonder what he sees. Do I look guilty? Can he notice something is up with me? Does he suspect?
"Yeah, I'm definitely good for our game, Taylor. I just slept in a little later than normal."
"You got a hangover?" Taylor asks, concerned.
"A little." I move past him, grabbing my shoes. I'm barefooted, and I only just notice the instance I sit down on the couch, realizing I'd have to go back upstairs to get a fresh pair of socks.
Fuck it, I decide, unlacing the shoes anyway. No socks today. There's no way I'm risking heading back upstairs with all of that temptation right now.
"I went a little overboard last night, Taylor." I decide I may as well ham it up, pretending to be more hungover than I truly feel. I wipe my arm over my forehead with a sigh. "I was taking advantage of Katherine being away at her mother's house for the weekend. Thought it's about time I get drunk."
I can feel myself sweating beneath the armpits. There's so much pressure to act normal around him. If I fuck it up, I'm dead.
"You feeling okay with everything?" I really wish Taylor wouldn't have to ask.
I get the suspicion that he thinks I'm back to how I was before, not coping well with the divorce, grieving again. But oddly enough, I've never felt better as I do now.
"I'm good, Taylor," I mutter, shrugging it off. Laces finally done and shoes on, I stride towards where I keep my golf clubs and glove, Taylor following behind me.
He won't find out, I tell myself, sending a swift glance up towards the area of my bedroom window briefly as we start heading out back. Taylor won't realize she's here. Everything's fine.
ANA POINT OF VIEW
I wait around for a while, lounging in Christian's bed until I know for sure the coast is clear and that they've both left the house. Once it's quiet and their voices have faded off, I climb out of the bed, trying to be as quiet as possible while I move around it, making it up again, straightening the sheets and pillows neatly.
Once his bed seems neat enough, I hesitate on tip-toes, wondering whether it's safe or if it would be dangerous to take a peek outside the window of his bedroom, making sure they're truly distracted. Inhaling in nervously, I risk it, lunging towards the curtains quickly, peeking out.
I spot them instantly, first chance I peer out.
I see Christian and Taylor in the large backyard, already getting into their game of golf. Although Christian's wearing the same shirt he slept in the bed with me last night, and the shirts a little wrinkled, he hasn't showered, and he was just brutally awoken and forced out with Taylor barely 10 minutes ago, I can't help thinking he looks incredibly good. Even in a day old, unironed shirt, he looks amazing.
Taylor just stands behind him, watching him, both of them seeming completely invested in their game. I watch as Christian braces himself to swing, lining the little white ball on the tee. Even doing something like swinging a golf club, he does it so well, so attractively. He takes a big swing with his lone white glove on his dominant hand, and I hum quietly to myself, impressed as the little ball sails through the air far, far away.
I cannot believe this is the same man I snuggled with in bed all last night. Well, I cannot believe Kate's dad and I spooned together, that he even admitted to reciprocating my feelings as well- though nothing can be done about it.
He turns to Taylor, his expression animated as he talks. He seems so relaxed and carefree, like he's not hiding me in his house, his daughter's friend. He's really good at acting.
When I think I see the outline of Taylor's head moving towards the house, I duck hurriedly, falling to my knees on the carpet, my heart racing with anxiety.
Terrible as it is, it's sort of exciting to me, this whole entire thing; Pretending I'm not here, hiding. There's something fun about knowing that I could be caught, that we could be caught by Taylor even if there isn't really anything going on between us. Sure, we shared a kiss last night and we slept in the same bed, but... sadly, that was it. It isn't like we had sex, much as I may wish we had.
I wonder if I could get away with having a shower while they're out there but I don't want to risk it. Instead, I head back into Kate's room, grabbing my bag with my clothes in it. I just end up taking my time, brushing my hair while changing into some fresh, clean clothes. Christian hasn't showered anyway, so I guess we can both be unclean together.
I end up sitting on Kate's bed, waiting nervously until I hear them finish their game, keeping well out of sight and quiet. I hear them after about what feels like 30 minutes later, their voices floating up the stairs into Kate's room.
"Good game, Taylor." Christian sounds pleased. "Better luck next time."
"It usually goes that way, doesn't it?" Taylor's laughing. "One week, I'm winning. Next week, your winning and I'm losing. Good game, anyway."
Then their voices drift off into silence. I get to my feet, sneaking towards the doorway of Kate's bedroom, listening carefully. Is he going to leave now? Is it safe?
"Your girl at her mom's this weekend?"
Damn it. I fall back, leaning my shoulder against the wall.
"Yeah, it's her mom's turn this weekend so I'm all alone."
"You know, it's just a suggestion but... if you want, you could always come over for dinner? That way you can have company so it isn't so quiet? Gail would be delighted?"
"Maybe, Taylor. I'll have to consider it sometime."
More silence again. Is now the time?
"Good. Well, guess I'll leave you to it. Good game, like I said."
"Bye, Taylor. See you next week."
Finally, I hear a car running and I know it's safe. I come out of Kate's bedroom, biting my fingernails nervously as I approach the stairs. I wait and listen a bit more, then start climbing down the stairs slowly, a foot at a time. I edge slowly around the corner, finding Christian closing the front door.
"Is it safe now?" I mutter apprehensively.
"Yeah, it's safe. We're in the clear now." He turns to look my way while peeling off the Velcro strap on his white glove. "That was lucky." He licks his lips, releasing an unsteady breath.
"So he didn't suspect anything?"
"I don't think so," he admits, his brow furrowing. "I'm sure he didn't even know anything was amiss." He sits on the couch, bending to unlace his shoes.
"What do you think would happen if Taylor did find out I was here, your daughter's friend?" I know I probably shouldn't be asking, but I'm curious. "You think he'd assume something was... going on between us?" I can't imagine he would. Him and Christian seem like really good pals.
Christian stares down at his shoes for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then he shrugs. "I'm not sure what he'd think," he says. "But I surmise he would think something bad of it."
"You don't think he'd give you the benefit of the doubt, knowing how you really are as a person and that... you aren't the type to mess around with your daughter's friend?"
His eyes flicker up to meet mine, something there in them. He suddenly seems a little tense, his broad shoulders squared. Then he glances away, leaning back while he kicks off each shoe with his bare heels. Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up? He clearly doesn't feel comfortable speaking about it.
"I was thinking if... you had no other plans yourself for the day, if you wanted to get lunch and eat it on The Grace?"
I feel my heart leap in relief at his suggestion. Obviously, I had no other plans. "I would love to," I whisper softly. "That would be great."
"Good. Let me just go put on a fresh shirt and then we can go."
With Christian now dressed in a stark-white, tight polo shirt that's sleeves stop at the forearms, we get into his car, Christian turning on the engine. I'm really relieved he suggested getting lunch and going on his boat. I'd really enjoyed it last time- and the thought of us, eating lunch, being together alone on his boat, it excites me more than it probably should.
To my surprise, Frank Sinatra's voice doesn't spill out on his stereo this time. Instead, it's a woman with a beautiful voice, singing a version of 'Over the Rainbow'. I don't believe I've heard her singing before.
"Who's this singer?" I ask curiously while Christian glances back, reversing smoothly out of the driveway and onto the road. "Your not playing Frank's music?"
"No, I thought I'd give it a break. It's Eva Cassidy this time."
"Oh, wow." I've never heard of her before. "Her voice is really good."
"Isn't it? She died very young."
"Really? How old was she? What did she die of?"
"Melanoma. She was only 33."
"33?" I feel genuinely shocked and saddened. "That's really sad. And very young, like you said."
He laughs suddenly, and I can't help smiling back at his infectious laughter as I peer over at him. I find him looking my way, his grey eyes shining.
"What?" I ask suspiciously. "Did I do or say something silly?"
"No, of course not, Anastasia. It's just..." Christian pauses, lifting up to rub around his chin with his fingers. "I like how... genuinely curious and interested you are about things."
I'm not sure whether he's meaning that as a compliment or not. "Is that in a good way?" I breathe, shyly.
"Of course, definitely in a good way." He laughs again, and I really wish his laugh and even his smile didn't affect me the way it does. It's so spine-tingling, so... good. "Your just so different from Katherine. I can't imagine us ever speaking about Eva Cassidy or even... Frank. She doesn't show curiosity or interest in the things that you do."
"But isn't that a good thing?" I murmur back, staring at the side of his face. He stares outside the windshield, concentrating seriously on driving.
"Of course it is."
I really like the polo shirt he's wearing, it does wonders for him. The sleeves are short, showing off his muscular arms. I really like his arms. But hey, who am I kidding? I like all of him, even if he clearly can't see it of himself. He's just... delicious, everything about him. I realize I'm perving, and I force my eyes away, glancing outside the window on my side deliberately.
"You don't drive?" he asks, speaking through the silence between us again. I'm glad he does.
"Yeah, that's right. I don't."
"You're not interested in getting your drivers license?" He looks in my direction again, his expression interested.
"No, it isn't really that I'm not interested. I mean, I definitely want to."
"Then why not?"
"I just... can't afford a car. Or really... have someone teach me." I try to imagine myself asking my mom to teach me how to drive, and almost laugh out loud. My mom's always too busy, too preoccupied.
"You could always borrow Katherine's car?" He suggests gently. "Or mine, even?"
I look into his eyes, meeting his gaze. "You'd let me?" I whisper, surprised.
"Of course. And, although I work late hours, I wouldn't mind teaching you if that's what you need?"
I feel my throat tighten with thankfulness. He's so good, so nice. "Thank you," I murmur, touched. "That's really sweet of you, but... I'm really not sure if-"
"-You need to be able to drive," Christian points out, sounding very firm on the matter. I guess he really believes in what he's saying. "Especially when you need freedom, at your age. It'll help tremendously. Katherine isn't even the same now that she's gotten her license and can drive a car. It opens up a lot of doors. And besides," he adds, his voice huskily brighter, "I bet I'd enjoy teaching you how to drive more than my daughter, considering we have mutual interest in Frank Sinatra's music."
I laugh at his words. "Yes, probably."
We fall into another peaceful silence again in the car, listening to Eva Cassidy's sweet, soulful voice. Every now and then, I'll catch myself compulsively glancing over at him, watching him. Then I remember how he said he found me attractive last night, and I feel all mushy, just like that. I notice we haven't really spoken again on what happened between us last night. Or does he feel like there's nothing else to say? Does he want to forget about it or... is it just not a big deal to him?
"There's a nice place near the marina," he says, breaking through my thoughts. "I thought we could grab a bite there and carry it back to the boat with us?"
"Um, okay. Great."
Once we finally reach the waterfront and the marina, Christian finds a place to park, and we hop out of the car. He locks it up and I follow him, where we walk side by side while he leads the way to the place he mentioned that serves food. I don't realize how close we're walking together, until his arm brushes against mine, the back of his hand against my knuckles. I feel myself redden at the contact, but if he's noticed it, he doesn't say or do anything.
There's a seafront bar with a little seating dining area and drinks that are served. It's obvious Christian knows the owner really well, because they smile and are pleasant, shaking hands with each other while I stand sort of huddled behind him. Then the owner glances my way, and I hear him comment about it to Christian.
"That's not your daughter?" the man says, and my heart jumps.
"Uh, Jesus no. She's not my daughter, Dante," Christian says back, and I catch an edge to his voice. He seems almost nervous. Horrified even, at the assumption. "Can we get some fish and chips to go?"
"Of course, man. I'll cook you a fresh batch."
Christian takes his wallet out of jeans while turning back to me. "Is there anything in particular that you'd like to drink, Anastasia?"
"Um..." I glance over at the drinks they're offering. There's multiple bottles of wine and alcohol drinks, but I'm assuming alcohol is off the menu, seeing as I'm underage. "Ginger ale, maybe?"
"And two ginger ales please, Dante."
Once our orders done, he carries the fish and chips while I carry our ginger ales. We walk along the marina where so many of the boats are. I think his boat definitely is the best.
"He thought I was your daughter?" I point out to him, trying to make a joke out of it while Christian walks beside me.
He actually shudders and closes his eyes, making a face that makes me laugh, "Please, don't remind me."
I really hope he doesn't think of me like a daughter, even although I'm technically his daughters age. He said he found me attractive last night, we kissed. That means he doesn't, right? At least I'm hoping so.
We find his boat on the dock and Christian steps aboard first, putting down our lunch. Then, empty-handed, he leans over, grabbing me by the waist, helping me up. I feel myself flush when he leads me to where he put the food while I carry our drinks.
"It's nice out," I comment, just to make conversation. It's a bright, sunny day, not a cloud in sight. The wind is really mild as well.
"Do you want to eat 1st or do you want us to find somewhere quiet?"
"Let's find somewhere quiet," I say, without thought.
I should be embarrassed by my eagerness to be alone with him, in privacy, yet I'm not. If we go somewhere private on his boat, it means we'll be truly, genuinely private and alone. Just the 2 of us, stranded by seawater, with not any prying eyes in sight? Sounds perfect to me.
Stepping closer to me, Christian grabs the bottles of ginger ale, moving to place them down where he put our lunch. As he comes back towards me, he rubs both hands together, almost in a wicked, excited way. "All right, come on," he mutters, and suddenly, he reaches out, extending his hand out to me. I have no idea what he means.
"Huh?" I laugh in confusion. "What do you-"
He grabs my hand, holding it tightly in his. Then he starts dragging me along, leading me towards the wheel on The Grace.
"You can steer her this time," he explains to me. "I know how much you enjoyed it last time, so I'm putting her in your capable hands, Captain."
What? He's letting me steer the boat all the way this time? "But Christian, I- I don't even know how to start it?"
"It's easy. Come on."
Getting me behind the wheel, he does a few things while I wait. He radios in using a little transmitter thing, speaking into it. Then he does all this other stuff that confuses me. I have to admit that, like how I thought before when I watched him with his boat, there's something sexy about him being able to handle a boat; something so big, so monstrous. Then again, golfing, eating... is there anything I do not find sexy about Kate's dad?
"All right. Grip the wheel tight and keep her straight, Anastasia."
It all happens so quickly. One second, there's this sound of the engine starting, then The Grace begins to move. I glance behind me nervously, only to find Christian has vanished. Crap, where's he gone? To my relief, I spot him unhooking the boat from the marina and then we really start to move, floating away from the dock.
When he finally returns to me, I feel my stomach do somersaults as Christian stands behind me, slipping his arms between mine. I remember what happened last time, how I brushed my backside against him on purpose, and struggle not to smile to myself. I'm really tempted to do it again.
And it's so nice, it's so freeing. I look down at the chaise, finding it empty this time. Kate's not here, it's just me and her dad, alone, at sea. The thought makes me so happy and I can't help wishing for more, hoping for something to happen between us. Even despite us having a conversation about it last night,a little heart-to-heart that nothing could happen between us.
What's there to stop us now, being literally deserted and stranded on sea like this?
I suddenly remember that there's a bed in the cabin.
"How are we feeling, Sailor?" Christian shouts in my ear. The wind has began to pick up the further away we get, deeper into the sea, my hair blowing around us.
"Really good," I shout back. "I definitely don't feel as nervous as I did last time."
His hands tighten over mine. "Your doing great." He's standing so close, the tip of his nose brushes against my ear. I wonder what he'd do if I kissed him again like last night. "Let me know when you want to stop and we'll cut the engine so we can eat our lunch." His voice gets too much to me, the fact he's speaking against my ear with his mouth. I shudder, right from my shoulders, to my toes, at his voice. To my dismay he notices a second later, "You feeling cold?"
"Not really. Um, I'm good."
"It's a pity we didn't bring a spare change of clothes. We could have swam. It's a nice day for it." His hands come up to rest on each of my shoulders, and I literally feel like I'm hyperventilating at the contact, no matter how innocent he probably intends it to be.
He's standing behind me, head low to my ear so he can talk to me over the wind, and now he's got his hands on my shoulders? How am I supposed to handle this?
"Um, I really like spending time with you," I blab back at him, still startled over the fact he has his hands on me. "I... I really enjoy being with you."
His fingertips rub back and forth over my shirt into my shoulder muscles, like he's attempting to warm me from the breeze. "The feelings mutual, Anastasia. Trust me."
I move my head to the side, and he leans back a little to glance down at me. There's something soft in his expression, his pupils dilated. He looks my face over as his fingers resume with their ministrations, flexing and massaging the skin on my shoulder blades throughout my shirt. God, I'm already lost and hyperventilating and he's just doing something as normal as trying to keep me warm from the breeze because I'm only wearing a shirt like he is?
"I still have jackets in the cabin," he says, and my eyes drop to his lips. "Want me to go grab you one? It does tend to drop in temperature out here from the wind, like.. no doubt you noticed last time out here?" I feel idiotic, captivated by the way Christian's mouth is moving as he raises his voice at me over the wind, captivated over how his teeth move while he speaks. I so want him to kiss me right now. It's almost unbearable and painful, the need.
"You said you find me attractive last night? That you find me kind-hearted?" It comes out of my mouth before I even know what I'm intending to say, my eyes lifting his again.
I notice he glances away from me briefly, ahead of the wheel, a strange look coming across his face. Then he slowly meets my gaze again, and he nods, once. His hands have stopped touching my shoulders. I feel them loosen around them, and then, surprising me, he lifts them higher, until he's cupping around my neck and the sides of my throat with them, his palms warming me. He holds his hands there, so gently, like I'm so breakable. Then he leans down, putting his mouth near my ear again, fingertips stroking my throat, "I did, Anastasia, and I do but... what about it?"
He leans back to meet my gaze again, shaking his head slightly.
"I want you to kiss me again." I've become so brave these past few days, I'm not even sure where it's come from. Maybe it's knowing I'll be off at college soon, that times running out? "Like... like last night?"
"Anastasia..." He stares at me for a moment, shaking his head again, his forehead creasing in what seems frustration, annoyance. "You know we... we shouldn't. We talked about this, about it... it being something we'll look back on in the future and we'll laugh about it, not regret it."
"I think we're meant to be together," I say, the words coming out of my teeth desperately. I don't care if its cheesy to say that, or if he even doesn't feel that way about me, but... it's the way I feel. I can't hold it in any longer. "I know it probably sounds... cliche or cheesy, but... that's how I honestly feel, Christian. I feel like, why fight it? If it happens, then... just let go and let it happen?"
I try to turn against the wheel to face him, but with the way he's holding me, with the way he's behind me, it's hard.
"I mean, I'm 17, it isn't like it's something completely illegal that we'd be doing together? We're not... breaking any rules and if... just for 1 moment, you want to let go, then we can let go? I'd never tell Kate about it if you want to just... let go? I'd hope that you know you could trust me not to tell Kate, if that's what your worried about?"
I can see his face when I lean against the wheel, arching my head back. I see the hesitance in his deep grey eyes, the... worry and indecision in them, yet something else, something like need? His eyes drop to my mouth, his own lips parting. Need and desire?
I think I hear him make a low sound at the back of his throat, a noise though I might be mistaken through the wind, and then he does it. Hands moving up below my chin, he clasps onto it, holding me still and in place, and before I know it, he's bending down, kissing me deeply.
It's different from the last time he kissed me last night, how he tasted of alcohol and vodka when he was drinking. This time, it isn't done because he's feeling a little under the influence. No, it's all him, and I relish in it, in the moment. I close my eyes deeply, shutting them to the wet wind thrashing my hair around and rocking the boat, focusing on nothing else but this 1 moment, this 1 sensation where his lips press and begin to move against mine.
Like every time he smiles or laughs, I get the spine-tingles. It gets worse with his lips on me, it's like an electric current darting through me, reviving me, overly dramatic as that sounds.
Finally succeeding in arching away from the wheel, I manage to get my hands on him, wrapping my arms around his neck as his mouth leisurely, slowly moves against mine, like he's curiously getting a feel for them. I've never been kissed before, admittedly, but I realize then that there is really no difficulty or trick to it. I let him take the reigns, matching the movement of his own lips against mine, ignoring everything around us.
His thumb strokes my chin as he remains holding me in place, and as he leans back fractionally, disengaging our lips for a second, I feel my heart start beating erratically faster as suddenly he captures my bottom lip between the both of his. He sucks, an odd yet pleasant sensation, yanking on my bottom lip slightly, and it feels really, really good. Heavenly even.
The rush I feel, it makes me dizzy. And then as Christian goes to move back again, ending our kissing, my eyes flutter open again, and I feel heady, drugged. High.
He pulls away slowly, gently releasing my chin, then he reaches over, grabbing onto the wheel, straightening our course on the boat in case we crash into anything. Dozily, I grin widely to myself as I touch my lips carefully with my fingertips, still feeling the warmth of his mouth and the slight tingle of how it felt when he sucked on my bottom lip. I peer up at Christian from where I stand as he takes charge, steering the boat now. He doesn't look as blissful as I feel and my heart sinks.
"Everything OK, Captain?" I mutter to him, copy him when he kept calling me that name himself.
I notice he doesn't look at me; He looks far ahead of us, into the horizon, the sea water, his eyes squinted, hair ruffling in the wind while he grips the wheel hard. When I look at his hands, I see his knuckles are white.
I get the feeling we're back there, back to last night. How he apologized so much and was so guilty afterwards, when I wanted it myself.
"Please don't say we're back there," I murmur over the wind nervously. My voice comes out too high, too croaky. "Back to what happened last night especially after what I just said. About... about letting go for even just 1 mo-"
"-I knew I was fooling myself," he says over me, but I feel like he's saying it more to himself. "I can't trust myself, no matter how... hard I try." He releases a hand off the wheel, pushing his hair back in the wind, his jaw clenching tight. "I was stupid. Why did I even think for 1 minute that it'd be fine if we came out here-"
"I like spending time with you, and I like being out here like this," I say. "I thought you said you liked it, too?"
"I can't be alone with you, not ever," he hisses loudly, angrily. "I've just proved it to myself, I can't trust myself. I can't... behave."
He's so frustrating. "Can't you see that you don't have to behave around me, Christian? Can't you see that I want this?"
"Fuck, Anastasia..." He lets go of the wheel, rubbing his eyes with both palms. I've truly never seen him this way before. "You have your whole life ahead of you, once you start college or whatever, you'll find some...young man your age that you can be with, can't you see that?"
"But I don't want anyone else! I've never wanted anyone else but you before, and honestly, I can't see myself ever wanting anyone else! I want you!"
"Anastasia, I've been married once before! I'm... by lack of other terminology, damaged goods! I can't even fucking move past the fact that my ex wife divorced me because I failed her, I failed her in some way because I was... not good enough for her!" Wiping his palms over his eyes, he drops them, finally turning to look at me. His eyes are serious, pleading, "I'm in my 30's, I'm someone's father!" I can't even understand what point he's trying to make. As if that matters to me or changes the fact that I want him? "I have so much baggage, so many... personal issues that I still struggle with! You don't want that, do you?"
He stares at me, his expression anxious, one hand held up between us, as if to emphasize his point.
I swallow, trying to work out what he's trying to say, what I'm supposed to say. I realize he's pointing this all out to me because he's scared, he's scared to let go, to give in. He's trying to throw me off.
"I don't care," I decide. "I don't care about any of that, and whatever you have to say, it won't... sway me otherwise, Christian, because... I see you as so much more than that! Than so much more than you clearly see yourself!" I understand now, with so much clarity. "You don't see yourself the way I see you, because... yes, you've gone through a hard divorce, and yes, you're a father and your older than me by quite a gap!"
My voice is shaking with emotion and I don't know how to make it sound stronger, but I decide I don't even care.
"When I look at you, I see this amazing, gorgeous man who's been through a hard time like most people have, but that's just... something everyone goes through! Everyone goes through hard times but... but that doesn't mean they don't deserve to have someone or to find someone who can see them as someone so amazing and support them!"
Emboldened by how strong I am trying to make my point, I move closer, lifting up, touching both of his shoulders with my hands.
"Despite all that, I still want to be with you! I still find you to be the most amazing person I've ever met, and no matter what you-"
Grabbing my chin tightly, he bends down, pressing his mouth to mine, cutting my words off before I can even finish them.
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING SO LOVELY, EVERY READER, ALERT AND REVIEW, I APPRECIATE SO MUCH! I DO HOPE THIS ONE ISN'T TOO CHEESY, I AM SO NERVOUS WHEN I POST ON THE STORY! PLEASE BE NICE WITH ME! IT WILL PICK UP PACE AND HAVE TIME JUMP, SORRY IF TOO SLOW MOVING!