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I have trust issues. Dr. Price would probably say this stems from my unresolved childhood trauma. Personally, I think it stems from people lying to me. Which was why I was in my Jeep on the way to a beach bonfire of all things.
I've never actually been to a beach bonfire before, but when they took place in movies it always involved high school kids, kegs, and a shit ton of angst. At least that's what they looked like when I watched Beverly Hills 90210. I guess when you're living on an isolated island off the coast of Costa Rica you had to improvise.
According to Cindy, who's a barista at the Starbucks on Main Street, this was going to be an "epic" party and "everyone" would be there. Most of the time when Cindy talks I just smile and nod. She talked too fast and used too many adjectives I've never heard of to be able to hold a coherent conversation with the 19 year-old, but when my caffeine deprived mind heard her mention this drunk fest I perked up. I hoped she wasn't full of shit with regards to the party because my plan depended on almost everyone, save maybe Simon and Claire, being here tonight. Nobody expects anyone at a beach bonfire to be plotting corporate espionage behind their bosses back.
As I drove up to the beach I was pleasantly surprised to find Cindy was a reliable source of information when it came to nightlife on the island. There were tons of cars parked haphazardly in a makeshift parking lot with people slowly trickling down to the beach.
Parking my Jeep I surveyed the beach. Too bad I was here for nefarious purposes because this party didn't look half bad. I didn't even see anyone accusing their best friend of sleeping with their super hot, James Dean look alike boyfriend, but the night was still young. I got out and tossed my flip flops in the passenger seat before walking down the sand trail that led to the beach. The party was already in full swing with people milling about surrounding a huge bonfire that looked about one log away from being out of control. Smokey the Bear would not be happy.
It didn't take long to spot the guy I was looking for perched awkwardly on some rocks away from most of the partygoers.
"Hey Lowery, nice shirt," I said, sitting down beside him on the rock. He was sporting an old school Jurassic Park T-shirt with old blue board shorts. He had a blue Solo cup filled to the brim with a reddish drink.
"Thanks, Vivian says it's insensitive." He looked bumped that his secret flame didn't approve of his vintage $150 T-shirt.
"Shake it off buddy. She'll come around," I consoled him, nudging him with my shoulder. He handed me a cup of my own and I cautiously sniffed the drink. "What's in this?"
"I'm not entirely sure. Marco, the manager at Margaritaville, made it. Other than the 15 bottles of different liquor I saw him pour in it could be anything."
"Sounds great," I replied, taking a tentative sip. Yummy, not bad Marco.
"I gotta be honest Jo. I'm not comfortable with whatever it is you're planning."
"I haven't told you what I'm planning yet. You can't get all freaked out until you hear the details." I was halfway through my Marco concoction and was feeling pretty good. Lowery had barely sipped his own drink, and already looked ready to faint.
"Why did we have to do this here?" he asked, looking around the beach.
"Because it's the perfect cover. Everyone's here and everyone's drinking. We are just two co-workers sitting on a rock, hanging out." As I looked around I saw the party was raging. Someone had cranked the music up, people were laughing and dancing in different groups.
"And you knew no one would think twice about us being together," Lowery supplied, setting his cup down on the rocks. "Just lay it on me Jo."
"Jesus, calm down. I'm not asking you to infiltrate Al-Qaeda." Finishing my own drink I picked up Lowery's. No need to let good liquor go to waste. "I just need you to hack into InGen's laboratory computer system and tell me what kinds of animal DNA they are messing with."
"What?!" Lowery screamed, shooting up off the rock flailing his arms around.
"Shhh, calm down," I said, standing up and looking around to see if anyone noticed his outburst. "It's worse than it sounds."
"It sounds pretty bad! You want to hack our system and steal information. That sounds really, really bad!"
Well, when he put it like that, yeah, it sounded bad. "Are you not the guy who constantly rants and raves about the dangers of genetically modified hybrids?"
"That's hardly the point and you know it. Besides, you have no proof InGen is doing anything like that."
"That's why I need you to hack the system. They're hiding something," I clarified, polishing off his cup. That stuff was more addictive than crack. I wondered if I could get another or maybe the whole trashcan. "Will you do it?"
Lowery put his knee on his elbow cradling his head. I thought maybe he wasn't going to answer. "Fine, but it's going to take some time."
"You're the best," I smiled, hugging him. "I'm going to go get us more drinks."
I hopped off the rocks, making my way over to the other side of the beach where several trashcans were sitting half buried in the sand. A small folding table had a stack of Solo cups on it, and I grabbed two, dipping them into the trashcans filling them up.
"One of those for me?"
I jumped, startled by the voice behind me, sloshing Marco's trashcan mixture all over my hands. I turned around, glaring at Owen's smirking face. "You should wear a bell." The guy moved like the wind. It was as freaky as it was annoying.
"Little surprised to see you here." That made two of us. The last person I expected to see at this cliche was Owen. He just seemed way too cool for something like this, but here he was looking like a real life Adonis in just simple board shorts and a Navy Seal T-shirt complete with an image of the punisher skull surrounded by the official seal motto, "The only easy day was yesterday". He was walking eye porn. Every woman within a five mile radius looked like they were heat staring at him. Suddenly, I felt very territorial and it pissed me off. I kept reminding myself I was fighting fucking mad at him. He was a douche and I would do well to remember it. Since he looked like a sexy underwear model that moonlighted as a freaking superhero it wasn't working out too well for me.
Fuck. Mentally slapping myself I straightened my spine, glaring daggers at him.
"Why? I heard this party was going to be all the rage," I said sarcastically, stepping around him walking back towards Lowery.
"You just don't strike me as a beach bonfire kinda girl," Owen commented, falling into step beside me.
"How the hell would you know what kind of girl I am?"
"I know you like Blue Moon beer, you can't cook to save your life, and you keep a diary." Owen looked pretty proud of himself. I knew that stupid diary would come back to haunt me. I sat back down by Lowery, handing him his cup, which he took silently avoiding eye contact with Owen.
"You know for someone who spent the better part of a month avoiding me it's quite the turnaround now that you've decided to stalk me. I can't really keep up with your mood swings," I hissed at him, chugging half my drink. My mind felt groggy and my limbs felt numb. Lowery shifted uncomfortably next to me as Owen and I just continued to stare each other down.
"Would you like to dance?" I looked to Owen's right seeing a tall man with an athletic build standing behind him wearing board shirts, a wife beater, and sporting some pretty sexy arm tattoos. Even through my beer goggles I could tell he was fairly attractive. I've never been one to chase after a man, but if he's got great hair, a killer body, and tattoos I might power walk.
"Sure," I answered, polishing off the last of my drink and hopping down off the rocks walking swiftly past Owen. I could feel his gaze burning into my back as the man led me closer to the bonfire, his hand at the small of my back.
"I'm Tony," he told me as I turned to face him, throwing my arms around his neck as I started swaying to the music.
"That's great."
I didn't really care what his name was at this point. He may have been cute, but it hardly registered on my radar. My hormones only had eyes for Owen. My hormones were always rash with their decision making, and refused to acknowledge when something was clearly a bad idea. They were all just sluts. Dancing with tall, tattoo guy was a way to put some much needed distance between myself and Owen. He'd hurt and confused me, but seeing him, smelling him, just being in his gravitational force made me want to pull him closer. I was inexplicable drawn to him. He had made his lack of interest in me clear over the last month, but taking a close look at him tonight he looked conflicted. There was a war raging behind his crystal clear blue eyes that I didn't understand. He seemed to want to simultaneously kiss me and shake some sense into me. I inspired that reaction in a lot of people.
Tall, tattoo guys hands settled on my hips as he pulled me closer to him, forcing me to focus on the man in front of me and not the man I'd given the brush off. It wasn't as easy as it should have been given how much liquor was flowing through my blood at the moment. Giving me liquor and setting me lose on a dance floor was never a good idea. It's not that I'm a bad dancer; it's just that what little inhibition I do have are completely stripped away. Determined to banish Owen from my mind I turned around in Tim's arms, putting his front to my back as I ground my hips into him. If Tim's reaction was any indication I was a few moments away from full-blown stripper moves. He was digging his hands so hard into my hips it was almost painful. Suddenly, my seductive moves didn't seem like such a good idea. I may have been a little tipsy, but I wasn't drunk enough to want tall, tattoo guy's boner pressed on my ass. Why do guys think girls like that sort of thing? I made a move to put some distance between us.
Turns out moving was unnecessary because one minute tall, tattoo guy was standing behind me, and the next minute he was about five feet away with a very angry looking Owen in his place.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he sneered at me. I was no brain surgeon, but I thought that was pretty obvious.
"Uh, dancing," I slurred, trying to focus on the three different Owen's standing in front of me.
"Looked more like you were dry humping a stranger on a public beach," Owen's said, raking a hand through his hair, his body rigid. He looked mad enough to spit.
"And?" I'm not sure why this was presenting a problem for him. Sure, there could potentially be laws against such things in Costa Rica, but maybe not. Plus, last time I checked he wasn't my dad or my boyfriend.
Before I could voice my witty retort Owen grabbed me by my arm dragging me to him. I stumbled in the sand, but he righted me, stopping me inches before I crashed into his chest. He was breathing hard as he pulled me the final few inches, slowly bringing our bodies flush together. My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck as his arms circled around my waist. The music chose just that moment to slow down, and without even realizing it we were both moving to the beat.
Now instead of dry humping a stranger on a public beach I was dry humping Owen. I considered it an improvement. Owen was beyond hot.
"You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met," he whispered into my ear.
"It's a gift." I'm a functioning hot mess. That's not the same as your average hot mess. I'm like the Sith Lord of hot messes.
We continued our dance oblivious to anyone else. The last sober cell in my brain told me this was probably a bad idea, but all the other drunk one's vetoed her decision.
I pulled him closer, breathing in his unique spicy scent. God, I'd missed him. He wasn't just my annoyingly sexy neighbor that I definitely wanted to see naked, he was my friend. In his arms I felt content for the first time in a month. I sighed heavily, this was getting beyond complicated.
One of his hands reached up, tucking my hair behind my ears as he stared at me. More often than not Owen was a closed book, but as he looked down at me I could see everything. It was as if he was trying to apologize just with his eyes. His palm slid down, cradling my face as his eyes flicked down to my mouth then up to my eyes. I swear I stopped breathing as I bit my lip in anticipation. I honestly felt like if this man didn't kiss me right here, right now, I would die. It would be one of those kisses that changed everything.
He leaned forward agonizingly slow closing the distance between us as my eyes flicked closed. Right before our lips touched his cell phone rang. Loud. He stopped, looking at me before reaching down in frustration to answer his phone with a curse.
"Grady."
I backed up out of his arms, staggering over to the folding table grabbing the first cup I could find tipping it back. What was I thinking? What was he thinking? What the fuck almost just happened? Too many questions and not enough answers. I needed liquor. Nothing helps clear your mind like trashcan punch. Before I could drain the cup Owen's hand reached out, plucking the cup from me and tossing the contents on the beach.
"Seriously? What are you my mother?"
He ignored me, speaking rapidly with whoever was on the other end of the line, probably Barry. Those two were like an old married couple. I laughed at my joke and Owen glanced at me shaking his head. He ended the call, grabbing my hand and walking back toward the makeshift parking lot.
"Hey, let go. What are you doing?" I asked as Owen hauled me past Lowery giving him a curt nod. I turned around, waving awkwardly.
"I'm taking you home then I'm going to the raptor paddock."
"Raptor emergencies are important," I said giggling. I was so funny. "Why do I have to leave the party? Lowery can take me home."
"No." Well, OK then. That cleared everything up. The drunk fog in my brain cleared enough to rear its ugly head in protest.
"Why do you even care? Last time we saw each other you kissed me, regretted it, and didn't talk to me for weeks," I said my brain functioning enough to remind me I was not happy with Owen currently. "I'm a big girl Owen. If you don't want to date me or kiss me or whatever, I can handle it. I thought we were at least friends."
Most of the spite had drained out as I finished in a pathetic whimper. I swayed slightly and Owen stepped close to me, brushing my hair out of my face. "We are friends Jo. Jesus, I want...I fucked up. I'm sorry."
His apology threw me off my game. I didn't know how to respond. Yelling, screaming and irrational conversation I excelled at. Apologies and mature discussions about feelings not so much. He grabbed my hand, leading me to his Jeep where he picked me up putting me into the passenger seat. I drew the line when he reached across me attempting to buckle my seatbelt.
I swatted his hand. "I can do it. I'm not that drunk."
Owen stepped back, his eyebrows raised as I attempted to put the seatbelt into the buckle. As it turns out this is an extremely complicated, technical procedure. After my third failed attempt Owen stepped forward, yanking the belt out of my hand buckling me in.
"I almost had it," I pouted.
He climbed into the driver's seat firing up the engine and peeling out of the parking lot. He was obviously in a hurry and I felt bad for slowing him down. And making fun of his raptor emergency.
"Sorry," I muttered under my breath. Now that we were on the road headed towards my house my head felt heavy. The scenery was whipping by so fast I felt a little nauseous. Were we moving at lightspeed?
"For what?" He seemed genuinely interested in my response.
"For making fun of your raptor emergency. I know you love your girls. I love them too. I hope they're OK." I officially had diarrhea of the mouth.
"The girls are fine. Just a little restless with the approaching storm. I need to go check on them," he said sincerely, glancing at me. "I'm not mad about that."
"Why are you mad?"
He seemed deep in thought. So I laid my head back against the seat and waited, letting my eyes drift closed.
"I hated seeing you dance with that guy," he barely more than whispered. "Him touching you...it made me want to hurt him."
My inner goddess was prying her drunken face off the bathroom floor in absolute rapture with his proclamation. I liked that he hated seeing me with tall, tattoo guy. It meant he cared. It meant that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for us yet.
I rolled my head to the left so I could look at him. "I like you too. You're pretty."
"You're drunk," he laughed.
I wiggled my hand back and forth the universal sign for "so-so". He reached out pressing his lips to the back of my hand. I smiled happily, my eyelids sinking lower and lower. I wanted to stay awake and savor the feeling of Owen's hand in mine, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. Sometime later I felt the car stopping, but figured I could just sleep in the car tonight. Moving right now was overrated. I heard the door open and felt myself being lifted and carried. My head lulled to the side bumping into Owen's solid chest where I nuzzled against him.
I felt him lay me down on my bed lightly covering me with a blanket. I thought I felt him brush a kiss against my forehead before I sank back into oblivion. The last thought floating across my mind that something had shifted tonight between us. We may fight like cats and dogs, but it was because there was something there worth fighting for.
Our relationship was far from perfect. We were the equivalent of a house that was in desperate need of an update, a fixer upper if you will. I could live with that. When a lightbulb burns out you don't go out and buy a new house, you fix the lightbulb.
angelicedg: You're not wrong...Jo is not a fan of this plan.
animagirl: The diary is fun...I like it too. Thanks for the review!
xxyangxx2006: Hello again :) I think you're right, the shrink would quit if she knew what was actually going on in Jo's head. LOL!
Desert Vulpes Zerda: I completely agree with you. It's like playing Russian roulette with a dinosaur that can eat you. No bueno!
Storylover00: Thanks for the review and thanks for liking the story. I like both :)
Sophie: Thanks for the kind words...hope you enjoyed the latest installment.