The Other Way : Six

Stoned Off Seawater Doesn't Count

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Jasper’s new hotel was the prettiest one yet.

Perched on a sprawling crescent of land, nestled into clear blue water. The belly of the curve was a shallow basin of pearly white sand and brilliant pastel water, smooth and still and see-through. The island was dotted along the belly with individual bungalows, ten in all, ranging in size but built on the same open floor plan with large walls of glass that could be pushed aside to create an airy space, the lush jungle pressing right up into the rooms. Some of the bungalows sat high and sprouted verandas that jutted out over the water while others were tucked low between the tumbling piles of rock that partitioned each private beach, just a few sandy steps from the door. There was a large main building slung down low on the bottom edge of the crescent, sprawled up against the sandy beach looking out over a vast stretch of horizon, speckled with other islands.

I stepped off the small boat we’d taken from the mainland, knees wobbly from hours spent in the air and the sloshy ride across the water, accepting Jasper’s hand gratefully in case they went out on me completely. A warm breeze was whipping over the ocean, sending my dress fluttering around my knees and Jasper tried to smooth some of the windblown hair out of my face, smiling at me through the sunlight.

“Jacob will take you to our bungalow,” he motioned to the porter who was collecting our luggage from the boat. “Take a shower. Relax. I’m going to go find Carlisle and check on a couple of things, but meet me at the front desk in an hour? I have something I want to show you.”

He was grinning like a five year old with a secret, mouth soft against the back of my hand before he trotted up the beach toward the resort, newly shorn hair ruffling in the breeze.

I trailed the porter down a winding path, sidelining the main building and entering the thick foliage that covered most of the island. The soft white sand continued as the path meandered through twisted trees, plants sporting leaves larger than frying pans and soft curling ferns. At regular intervals, a small plaque tastefully lit from below indicated at another villa, although none of them could be seen from the path. Jacob lead me clear to the end of the trail, even waiting patiently when I got distracted by a weird looking plant.  

Jasper picked one of the best for us. Squatting resolutely on the very tip of the crescent moon with one of those over-water decks and a private beach, it was one of the most secluded spots on the entire island. Jacob stood aside and let me enter first, trailing me through the door and depositing our bags near the bed before turning to push open the glass walls, salty ocean air flooding the room. Apart from the corner sectioned off for a bathroom, the space was free of walls, a giant bed dominating one wall and a low set of couches set near another. Everything was done in shades of cream and varying hues of blue with blonde wood floors and soft mosquito net curtains.

“Do you need anything else, Mrs. Hale?” Jacob shuffled as he spoke, hands clutched behind his back and his eyes on his shoes. His skin was the color of cooked-down caramel, deep eyes and heavy brows underneath a head of thick black hair that was held back by a band at the base of his neck. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen and was probably well aware that I was his boss’ wife, his job held in the palm of my hand as though it was a bird, fallen from the nest.

“No. But thank you, Jacob.” I smiled as warmly at him as I could and watched in some amount of fascination as his caramel skin blushed rose from underneath. He left me without making any noise as he crossed the floor and I stood in the middle of the bungalow for a moment, adjusting to my new surroundings.

The air was warm and damp and heavy, the floor sanded velvety smooth under my feet and I was exhausted. I peeled out of my dress, leaving it puddled on the floor and headed out the open doors, stumbling across the beach and sinking into the salty sea water in nothing but my lacy underwear. The soft sand sprawled right into the water and billowed up around me with every step, mimicking the heaving waves of a dress around my legs. I tottered out until my chin was just above water and my toes were dancing along the barely reachable bottom. It was perfectly still, the water mirroring the sky, the only sound coming from the faint rustling of the trees behind me and my heart pounding clear up in my head.

I’d spent most of the flight curled up against Jasper’s arm, fast asleep after a double whiskey and a couple of bright blue advil provided by the too-smiley flight attendant. We took one of the smaller company jets, the one done up all in cream and ivory, rarely used because the boys had a tendency to seal deals with liquor and then spill it all over the upholstery. As it were, Esme had banned them from flying in it unless she or I were present. The advil worked wonders, but the whiskey spent the entire flight tangoing with my jet-lag, leaving me feeling twice as weighted and I was sort of awestruck that I could still float.

A shrill scream echoed over the water and I almost drown.

No joke.

I surfaced with a splutter, salt in my eyes and my heart lodged up in my throat lest any of the seawater make a run for my lungs. It took a few floundering moments for my feet to find the sand again and I pushed the hair out of my face as I gained my bearings, eyes burning. Another scream, and my heart thumped into overdrive, now fully convinced my ears hadn’t made the first one up. I swam toward the little tumble of rocks that separated my lagoon from the villa next door and scrambled up the pitted surface, scraping my knee.

I didn’t know what I expected to find - the cherry-red-churn of a shark attack possibly - but certainly not a tattooed boy with an equally tattooed girl slung over his shoulder, heading resolutely toward the water with a devilish grin on his face despite the slapping hands and screams directed at him from behind his backside. Alice was putting up quite the fight, lungs and fingernails and all, but Edward wasn’t having any of it. He’d clamped a hand down around her ankles to still her kicking feet and was gripping her ass tightly to keep her on-board, her dress hitched up over her waist and her underwear on display.

Shark-attack red.

I watched from behind the rocks as Edward marched right into the water, slacks and collared shirt and all, stopping only when he was waist deep. With one last scream from Alice he launched the tiny girl into the air as easily as if he was flipping a coin. Her dress fluttered for the briefest of moments before she hit the water with a giant splash that completely belied her size. She popped up in a fit of rage and seawater, launching herself at Edward and in the split second before she forced him under the water, his eyes caught mine over the rocks.

His eyebrows perked and I ducked out of sight before I saw any more.

---

Jasper found me in the ocean an hour later. I was sitting armpit deep in the warm water, muscles gone soft and limp, thoroughly distracted with the task of trying to decide how badly your fingers could prune before they finally fell off.

I was pretty sure I was getting close to finding out.

“I came here with my wife, but I fear she might have turned into a mermaid.”

I glanced up at the deck to find Jasper leaning against the railing with his arms folded across his chest and a wry smile on his face, a halo of sunshine making him a little hard to look at. I picked a foot up out of the water, wiggling my toes and sending droplets plopping back into the ocean.

“No tail.”

“That means that you’ve only just found your feet.” He trotted down the steps and stopped at the edge of the water, bottom lip between his teeth as I stood and made of show of tottering dramatically toward him on my ‘newly acquired’ legs. I did feel a little like Ariel, emerging water-logged and uncertain from the water, letting myself fall against him when I was within range. He wrapped a solid arm around my waist and planted a kiss on my shoulder.

“Salty,” he grinned into my skin.

“Sorry I was late.” I pressed my face against his chest, whispering words into his shirt, my skin prickling as the sun drank up every thirsty drop. “I ruined your surprise.”

Jasper shook his head with his fingers skimming my spine. “It’s far from ruined. Besides, I’m enjoying finding you this way much, much more.”

When he pulled me away to get a good look at me, speckled in water, dripping curls and pale pink lace, he was soaked up his front side. A blurry water stain in the shape of me.

---

We fell asleep on the big plushy bed, lulled under by the breeze and the waves and the damp heat. Jasper’s heart was thumping rhythmically beneath my ear and all of my joints had gone slack from soaking in the warm salty water that smelled strongly of lavender. So strongly, in fact, that I was feeling fuzzier off the ocean than I was from the whiskey-soaked jet-lag. By the time I was dreamily wondering how his heart could possibly be beating out the rhythm to an old Johnny Cash tune, I had decided that this was some pretty good stuff. High grade, and I drifted away pondering just how you bottle and market this sort of product.

He woke us an hour later, pulling me from the bed and pushing me into the shower, shaving at the sink while I lazily washed my hair clean of salt, humming to myself through my semi-drugged haze. He stepped under the water just as I was soaping up the fluffy white puff ball I found in the basket on the vanity, scrubbing off the salt that had cemented to my skin while we slept. The water poured down over his shoulders and he was holding his razor out toward me, face freshly shaven and a wry smile on his face. We’d only ever showered together a few forgiving times before, and never fully sober.

Stoned off seawater doesn’t count.

I tried my fucking best to look at his face. Or the razor. Or the ceiling. Anywhere but his abs. Or his chest. Or everything below that, which was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do.

“What?” I stuttered, taking the razor from him without knowing why, face flaming.

“I thought you liked mine better? You use it more than your own.” He smirked at me, his curls starting to catch a fine dewy mist. I was watching for any faint southern stray of his eyes, but they remained locked on my face. His self control was obviously in much better shape than my own.

“I do.”

“Why is that?” His eyes narrowed, but the smirk remained. “Does it work better? Or does it remind you of me?”

“Both.”

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