Lachlan
“Buy a vibrator?”I read off the next napkin in the pile she showed me after I asked what they’d been writing during dinner, revealing the fact I’d been watching her for quite a while before she approached.
She leaned back on her elbows, the ocean breeze blowing a few tendrils of hair in front of her face. God, I wanted to reach out and push them behind her ear. But she appeared so carefree, relaxed. I didn’t want to spoil that.
More so, I felt so carefree and relaxed. I wasn’t obsessing over the past, replaying every word, thought, action. Instead, I’d allowed myself to do the one thing I didn’t think possible… Let go. It may not have been a permanent feeling of ease, but I was determined to enjoy it for the time being.
“I’ll have you know, I already own a vibrator,” Belle stated very matter-of-factly.
“Then why is this on here?”
“Because my darling friend doesn’t think my current vibrator is doing the trick.”
“How would she know? Do women get together and compare vibrators or something?”
“That’s the thing. It’s not about the vibrator. At least according to her. None of the stuff on the list is about the substance.” She waved her hand at the napkins, then shrugged. “It’s to learn to put myself first.” A small, yet tragic smile tugged on her lips, hiding hurt and chasing away ghosts. “Something I’m not quite sure I know how to do.”
Her statement resonated with me. I may have been young, at least in her eyes, but I couldn’t remember the last time I did something purely for myself. It was hard to do that when I didn’t feel like I owned my time anymore. Not when I had team managers dictating my moves during the season, then my agent and publicists doing the same during the off-season, filling my days with photo shoots, as well as endorsement and charity gigs.
But right now, these past few hours with Belle, was for me. I liked it that way. Liked to think she was something just for me. Something I didn’t have to share with the rest of the world.
It didn’t hurt she had absolutely no clue who I was.
“So you don’t take any time for yourself?” I pressed, pulling my legs to my chest, draping my arms over my knees. I sipped from the bottle of wine, this one a Clark and Telephone Pinot Noir I ran to grab when we finished the Opus One.
“It’s hard, ya know? I feel like there’s always someone telling me what to do or where to be. And when I’m not working…” She trailed off, chewing on her lower lip, as if debating how much to share. “Well, my personal life is just as hectic as my professional one.”
“I think we’re all guilty of this kind of thing.”
Belle cocked her head to the side. “How do you mean?”
“Getting sucked into the race and constantly trying to reach the finish line.”
“Only to realize there is no finish line,” she added thoughtfully, staring into the distance as a sliver of orange light appeared where the sky met the ocean, the sun beginning its slow ascent, chasing away the darkness.
How was it I’d been out here all night talking to this woman? It seemed like only minutes, yet it had been hours. When was the last time I’d enjoyed a woman’s company this much?
“Instead, life becomes a vicious cycle of making a promise to take some time for yourself after this project, after this deadline, after this holiday,” she continued. “But—”
“It never happens. There’s always something else preventing you from doing so. It never ends. It keeps going and going until you wake up one day, wondering how you got here, feeling…” I shook my head, searching for the correct word.
“Trapped,” Belle finished.
“Yeah.” I smiled, floating my gaze toward hers. “Trapped.”
Our eyes locking, I stared deep into the brilliant emerald hue, mesmerizing and hypnotizing, especially under the hazy, early morning glow. They were so full of life, yet also hardened. She was a walking contradiction, which was probably why I’d felt drawn to her since the moment I looked into those eyes. You could have said the same thing about me. Hell, she most likely thought the same thing about me.
My gaze traveled to her mouth, her soft lips tinged a purple-red color from all the wine we’d enjoyed. A strong urge to pull her close and find out how sweet her lips were consumed me. In fact, that was all I could think about as we shared the bottle. Each time I took a drink, I was treated to the hint of a taste from the residue of her lips. It made me want more, made me fantasize about how sweet her kiss would be. The mere thought of it drove me wild, taunting me, teasing me…tempting me.
Just as I began to lean into her, she pulled back, jumping to her feet.
“I should go.” She glanced toward the shoreline. “Sun’s about to rise.”
I wanted to argue that she didn’t have to leave yet, that there was still plenty of night left. But the brightening sky disagreed with that.
“Thanks for the wine and the company,” she said hurriedly, then spun around, briskly walking toward the south.
I shot to my feet and ran after her, catching up with ease. “I’ll walk you back.”