Belinda
"I'm right here," I tell her just before she nearly runs into me. I see Julian Strong walking behind her. She tells me he's here for a massage, and I lead him back.
After he gets changed into a towel, I can see the healing bruises on him, and it just breaks my heart.
"Are you sure about this?" I ask. "I feel concerned I might hurt you with those bruises."
"I've had worse," he says like they're no big deal. "Besides, I'm not looking for anything deep tissue or something like that. I have this spot," he says and tries to show me only to wind up turning around in a circle like a puppy chasing its tail. "Well, it's there somewhere, that bugs the hell out of me. I must have a pinched nerve or something." He gives me a 'please don't think I'm nuts' look.
I smile to reassure him. Then I gesture to the table and say, "Let's see if I can fix it."
I get to working, gently, on his back, and I quickly find the pinched spot. He has quite a knot, and I recommend he go to a chiropractor. He complains that he'd just wind up getting addicted to getting adjustments and he'd never be the same.
"You could say the same about my job," I chuckle.
I find another spot, like the first one's other half, and work that one. He lets out a groan that says he really appreciates me finding that.
"Belinda, you really do have the most wonderful hands," he mumbles into the table. Then he's quiet for a long time while I work his back and his legs. I start to wonder if he's fallen asleep. That's not an uncommon occurrence.
I finish his massage with him sleeping the entire time. "Mr. Strong?" I ask quietly, hating to wake him up but needing him to wake up all the same. I have to lightly shake his shoulders to get him to wake up.
"Hm?" he asks in a bleary voice and opens one eye. "Oh." He pushes up on his elbows. "Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I didn't realize how tired I was."
I smile reassuringly while he sits up and scoots off the table. When he does, I see he's popped a tent under his towel. Again, this isn't terribly uncommon.
"Oh dear God, I'm so sorry," he says like he's really embarrassed.
"It's fine," I say, trying to get him to stop feeling embarrassed.
"It's not. I'll just go."
"Mr. Strong - "
He interrupts me. "Thank you for working out that kink, but I really need to leave now." With that, he heads towards the showers, his hands covering himself.
I sigh and start working on cleaning up the table.
I shrug and say, "He enjoyed it more than he expected." I know she knows what I mean.
"Oh," she responds and smiles a small, knowing smile. "You and your magic hands."
"I prefer skilled. You're the one with the magic," I tease.
She sighs, obviously thinking of something not-so-funny. "Yes," she agrees.
Jesse
I go and knock on her door. There's no answer. I actually peek into the window, and I don't see any lights on.
Where is she?
I drive around aimlessly after that, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. There are way too damn many blonde tourists about her height and build. Normally, I'd revel in this fact but not today.
I park Martha at a public beach parking lot.
When I get out of the car, I go ahead and take my shirt off since I'm headed to the beach anyway. I remember Marie once saying she wanted to work on her tan, so I decide to start here and work my way around the island to her apartment building, cursing myself for not checking the beach behind her building first.
I get stopped a few times by some really cute chicks, but I have to politely refuse their offer to party. I'm a man on a mission.
I'm insane. That brunette needed to be spanked.
I sigh and shake my head to clear the crazed thoughts running through it.
Marie. I found her.
I tread up to her as silently as I can. She looks to be in a deep meditation, and she doesn't show any outward sign that she notices me... not even when I sit down right in front of her.
A smile slowly covers my face as I sit and stare at her. She looks so peaceful that she could be asleep. It occurs to me that I've never seen her like this. Most of the time, she scowls at me. Occasionally, I've made her laugh, but I've never seen her this relaxed. It's nice, and I sigh happily.
Her eyes open slowly and she, also slowly, realizes I'm sitting here staring at her. Then her eyes widen, and she scoots herself backwards as quick as lightning, kicking up a little bit of sand as she does.
"What are you doing here?" she asks harshly.
"Looking for you," I answer truthfully and watching closely for her reaction. I'm a little sad my happy sigh destroyed the peaceful moment.
"How did you find me here? How long were you sitting there? What do you want?!"
I take a deep breath and try to answer her questions one at a time. "I found you by taking a walk because everywhere else I tried didn't pan out. I remembered you once said that you wanted to go to the beach, and it was the next guess I had. I haven't been here but a few minutes, and I want to talk to you." She starts acting like she wants to get up and leave, so I place a calming hand on her knee which she frantically bats away. Oops, I think, realizing that it probably wasn't calming like I wanted. I then very visibly withdraw my hand and put it back on my own knee. "Please don't get up and leave. I want to apologize for last night."
"I don't want to talk about last night, last Wednesday night, Friday night, Monday night or anything," she snaps.
I feel a little confused as to what she could mean by Friday and Monday since I have no idea why she would be mad at me for those, but I refrain from asking since it looks like it would just start a fight. Monday...
"And I want to apologize for not showing up Monday morning. I gathered from your message that you didn't cancel the lesson like I thought you did when you stormed out of my house." Her lips harden into a line like she's working on hiding something. Shit, I hurt her by that. "I'm sorry, Marie. I mean, what was I to think? You never texted me back or anything. I thought you'd decided against it."
"You could have at least called and asked me if I'd cancelled it," she says angrily.
"And have you bite my head off or worse... ignore me again? No thank you," I tell her sharply.
She gets up and dusts the sand off her butt and legs. Then she starts walking down the beach.
"Home," she answers simply and keeps walking.
"Are you not going to accept my apology?"
"Fine. I accept your apology," she says exasperatedly.
"You do? You sure don't sound like you do," I say once I've caught up to her very fast walking pace.
Even though I know what I want from her, the question takes me by surprise. I'm not sure what answer she wants or what she's really asking. "What do you mean?" I ask back. She's asked me that frequently enough, so I feel fine asking her to clarify.
"I'm not going to sleep with you. I don't want to date anyone. You failed to show up for your simfu lesson. Right now, you're not even making a very good friend," she snaps before she turns and walks off again.
Not ever? I think, still somewhat stuck on her first and second statement. No, she's just saying that to get me to leave her alone.
I stop walking. "So, you want me to leave you alone." I state my question, and she stops walking also.
She stands perfectly still, looking down at the sand. "I didn't think you actually would."
That wasn't a 'yes,' I think with a small amount of hope. "I tried," I tell her and walk up to her until I'm standing at her shoulder. I'm afraid to touch her for fear of freaking her out. "I really tried to leave you alone, and it was killing me. So, since I'm off today, I decided to get drunk last night, and I couldn't stop myself from calling you." I figure I may as well talk about the phone call now. "I'm sorry for being drunk the first time I told you I love you."
She turns to me with a desperate expression on her face before she reprimands me. "Jesse, please! Listen to yourself! You don't know me. How can you say that?"
I interject, "Because I know what I feel."
"Don't say that to me!" she continues.
"Let me guess -- because you can't 'handle' it," I say in a somewhat sad/somewhat angry voice.
"You're damn right!"
It's almost everything I can do to keep myself from kissing her. My first response to something like this would normally be that... 'stop the arguing by changing the mood.' If I kissed her, maybe she'd believe me when I tell her I love her.
"All right. If you don't want me to say it, then I won't say it. It's still true though," I say, and I'm sure to lock my eyes with hers.
"You haven't even known me for two weeks! How can you say that?"
"Two weeks, six months, five years, it doesn't matter. When you know, you know," I answer her, knowing I'm probably pushing too hard, but I will not let her try to convince me that I don't love her. One of the things I love about her is that she's a fighter. I wish she wasn't fighting me, though.
My eyes still rest on Marie as she looks at the sand at our feet. I can't read her expression.
A woman's arms wrap around my neck from behind me as she pulls me down to her and kisses me on the cheek while she walks around me. I look at Marie looking at her before I look for myself to see who it is. I feel terrible I can't place her.
She laughs at my slightly-bewildered expression and says, "It's been a few years. Amber."
"Oh. Um, hi, Amber," I manage to get out.
Marie walks off in the direction of her apartment.
"Marie, wait!" I say with Amber's arms still around me. Marie keeps walking.
"Oh, did I interrupt something?" Amber asks facetiously like she knew exactly what she was doing.
I'd better warn Bryce.
But first, I have to catch Marie.... who is now running away!
Amber's arms stick to me like glue while she says, "And I told Diane that if anyone on this island could show us a party it was you and Bryce. Are you going to make me go back on my word?"
"I'm really sorry, Amber, but I just can't anymore." I have to use a lot of strength to get this woman off me. Finally, I'm able to chase after Marie.
'Just let her go, Jesse. She doesn't want you bothering her.'
Shut up.
Amber yells behind me so that it reaches me, "I guess I'll see you at Bryce's bar later then?"
I don't answer; I'm too busy chasing Marie in a very literal sense. Damn, this woman is fast... and on sand too.
I'm panting now, but I hazard a plea. "Marie, please stop!"
"Leave me alone!" she yells back to me without looking back.
No, not after that sad look on your face after you thought I had, I think stubbornly as her apartment building looms on the horizon. Still, that she said it wrenches painfully at my heart, and I slow down.
She goes a little further before turning to look back at me. She doesn't see the rock in the sand and trips on it before landing on her side very ungracefully. Then she immediately rolls to her back and holds her knee like she's in pain. Her mouth freezes in a silent scream before she rolls away from me.
When I get to her, she says through her tears, "Just like in a damn movie. The heroine runs away and trips like an imbecile when she turns to look back."
"So that makes me the bad guy?" I ask, trying to figure out how to help her. She lies there bawling, her whole frame shaking with her sobs. "Marie, what can I do to help?" I plead.
"Nothing," she answers. "It's probably only a sprain. Not broken."
"Then you need ice on it," I point out and wonder how I'm going to get her to some ice.
"No. The body swells for a reason," she replies and works on standing up.
"Don't. You'll hurt yourself."
"I have to get up," she maintains stubbornly.
I watch helplessly as she makes herself stand on her good leg before gingerly trying out her injured one. She lets out a small cry the instant any weight is put on the limb, and she nearly falls sideways before I reach out and catch her.
"Help me to my building," she asks of me and puts an arm around my shoulder for support.
By the time we get her settled on her couch, the sun has started going down. I rummage around in her kitchen to find a bag and put some ice in it.
"The body swells to prevent further injury. It needs to stay swollen," she quietly argues with me through the partition wall between her living room and kitchen.
"Not to the point of cutting off circulation," I argue back.
"It's not that swollen!"
I glance over at her knee and see it's getting very swollen, and I shoot her a dubious look. Then, ice bag filled, I march over to her and shove the bag into her hand.
"Humor me," I request.
"I thought you'd want to go and party with Amber and her friends. This has got to be very boring just sitting here like this," she says quietly without looking at me.
"That reminds me," I say and quickly text Bryce a warning. "I warned Bryce," I tell her in explanation for my silence. "And no, I'm not wanting to go party. This is, with the exception of you being injured, the happiest I've been all week." And it's true. She might be mad at me, but even that's better than being without her.
"So that's what you do with old lovers. You just brush them aside like they annoy you and warn Bryce to do the same. Did you two share her or did he make it with one of her friends?" she asks in a crass manner, but then she blushes.
I don't know whether to be angry or laugh my head off. "No, we didn't share her, and she was one that knew she didn't matter, that it was just for fun." I can feel my lips quirk as I hold in the laughter. I think it was her blush after she asked that that I found humorous. Some thought nags me in the back of my mind, and I'm irritated that I can't figure out what it is. So what do we do now?
I think of something, possibly the one thing that I can still get her to agree to. "Will you give me another chance to take simfu lessons? I honestly thought you'd canceled."
Her face pinches for a second as a painful thought occurs to her. "But I'm injured."
"But you'll get better." Then a funny thought occurs to me, "And you can get me doing stuff that doesn't require you showing me how to do it like... waxing cars or painting fences and stuff."
I see her fight it for a second before she laughs. Then she takes a breath and says, "But I don't own a car or the land I live on, so I can't get you doing those things." She thinks for a minute. "But you can do my laundry... since you're so good at folding towels."
"Well, not much about simfu itself, but I can't do it myself, and it's partly your fault. And keep in mind I'll be keeping an eye on you. You need to learn that stealing other people's clothing is wrong," she answers, looking me dead in the face.
I work very hard at keeping an innocent expression as I ask, "When do I start?"
