Ethans Fal (22 page)

“You know there hasn’t been anything remotely good on since the Olympics. I mean London owned that shit and the opening ceremony…” Jake’s statement is full of national pride that is echoed by the group with the abundance of smiles and nodding heads. “Don’t you think, Ada?” I get a full grip of panic that leaves me empty but not from all the eyes now on me, but from the blank period in my life when the Olympics took place. I slept through the opening ceremony, the two weeks of games, and a further two years–give or take. I learned about it after I woke up. It was a huge deal and the entire country got swept along with the mania. Only, I don’t know the specifics that would include me in this shared history. I feel stupid that I can’t answer this simple question.

“Oh, yeah, that was amazing.” My voice sounds hesitant and my fingers grip the hem of my scoop neck T-shirt. Jake nods and I relax; he is about to speak when Ethan interrupts.

“What bit specifically did you enjoy, Ada? Because it looks to me like you’re lying.” Ethan puts his glass down and leans forward, his chin resting on one hand. His gaze intent on my face and I shift under the scrutiny.

“All of it was amazing.” I offer, my voice catches with a stupid rush of sadness. What the fuck does it matter to him if I’m lying.

“I don’t know why you are lying about something so insignificant. Or is it that you lie about everything. That your big secret is that you are a big fat liar.” His voice is quiet and I am grateful that the noise of the bar is drowning out the meanness in his tone. If it could also erase the coldness in his eyes that would be perfect.

“I’m not a liar…I mean. I would’ve liked to see the games–” I stutter.

“You didn’t watch any of it! Where were you, outer space?” His tone is derisive and his laugh all kinds of cruel to my ears. I push my way out the long way round of the booth, shifting something like ten people to avoid having to ask Ethan to allow me out.

“Your turn to shut the fuck up, Ethan.” Sky snaps. “How was she supposed to watch some stupid games when she was in a coma for two years?” I know Sky was doing the right thing in her mind, having a friends back and all that. But I hate that a whole group of people now know a little more detail about me. Detail that could identify me, maybe… if someone knew where to look. I know I sound paranoid but I am technically an escaped mental patient and I can’t go back. I have to find Pip.

I cringe too at how Sky threw that nasty nugget of information in Ethan’s face, even if he was being a jerk. Buddy grabs me before I make it out the back door with my night bag.

“Sleep on the sofa in the office tonight, Ada.” His soft, gentle tone is trying to coax me back inside. I step right up to him, catching him by surprise with the contact. I drop my bag and wrap my arms around his thick muscular waist. He lifts his arms in shock. I feel the comfort from the warm strength infuse my body, as he closes his embrace around me. A cocoon of safety and kindness, and I cling a little tighter than I have before because tonight I feel so exposed. I want that cocoon more than anything. He kisses the top of my hair. “Hey, sweetie, what’s up? Look stay here, we can talk when everyone leaves. I’m staying up for a Skype call to Honey, so you’d be doing me a favour keeping me awake.” He holds me at arm’s length, but his magical hold has done exactly what I needed.

“I’m good, Buddy. You know I just needed one of your hugs to bring some balance back into my universe. I can now contemplate how insignificant all my worries are by gazing at that star crammed sky tonight. Nothing like looking at a zillion planets to put some perspective into your day.” I lean up on my tip toes and plant a kiss on his cheek. I grab my bag and the hot chocolate he made me, and slip out into the night. There is a chill in the air and I quickly put my layers back on. There are still people milling on the beach, so I don’t get my sleeping bag out until I know I will be at least hidden under the cover of darkness. The gentle roll and splash of the ocean is calming and the sea gulls have toned down the volume from a
Dementa
type squall to a distance screech. I shiver and make sure there is no one about before I finally climb into my covers. I pull the quilted edging tight around my neck, rubbing my legs and feet together to get some friction warmth. I start to drift off looking at the clouds float like ghosts across the pitch black backdrop of the night sky. No stars tonight and possibly some rain. I can hear voices in the distance and I wedge myself closer to the rocks for camouflage. I hear someone jump down onto the sand, but I can’t see them. The large rock protecting me from the coastal wind also prohibits my view. Then there is that same giggle and squeal from the bar. Two shadows round the rock in front of me.

“Come on, Tiff, this is supposed to be a short cut. We are wasting time on climbing rocks when we could–” He stops, one of the shadows looms closer, and I can clearly hear the nearness of his approaching footsteps. “Shit! Ada, is that you? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Writing a strongly worded email to TripAdivsor. The view might be great but they seem to let anyone in.” I snap my reply, disproportionally irritated at his dumb question. It’s not like he doesn’t know this is a no option for me.

“It’s going to rain tonight, Ada. Go back to Buddy’s.” His tone brooks no argument but neither does mine.

“Fuck off and die, Ethan!” Okay, that was a little harsh but he just seems to bring out the best in me. And now his date is looking at me like some dog shit on the sand.

“As you wish.” His tone is sensual and he bows with a slow deliberate bend maintaining heated eye contact despite the poor visibility. Did he just
Princess Bride
me?
As you wish
…I snort. No, of course not. He strides off holding Tiff’s hand practically dragging her along the sand. Yeah he is the Humperdinck in this story. I snuggle back down thinking of my favourite film and loving it despite its fundamental flaw…
True Love-
The biggest ugliest fairy tale.

I close my eyes and try to clear my thoughts banishing all images of Ethan from my mind. I must be exhausted because sleep finds me unable to resist its pull for more than a few short moments.

Strong hands are on my shoulders and I don’t think, I act. I jab my arm out and spray. My thumb pressed hard on the pepper spray in my fist. I scramble out of my sleeping bag, a blur of limbs struggling to get free and I run, flat out. I can hear some shouting, my ears are muffled with rushing blood and adrenaline. I can’t have been asleep for five minutes to be this awake now. My bare feet grip the sand, which dips and moulds to my footprints. It’s dark and in a panic I find I am running out toward the incoming tide. I hear the pounding of feet behind me. Long strides and fast, much faster than me. My heart is hammering in my chest and now I can’t breathe.
Don’t do this now, please don’t shut down with fear and panic…just keep running.
The deep voice shouts for me to stop and I am shocked when my body does just that. Shocked at its stupidity, I lunge forward again with renewed energy. Sprinting for the water’s edge, like the sea will save me somehow. The ice cold waters of the night time Atlantic is more likely to be my grave but I run headlong into it all the same.

I grunt at the impact and feel the weightless pressure of flying through the air. The ground is hard compact sand and wet with rippling waves encroaching on the shore. I struggle but the weight on me is oppressive and with no air in my lungs I have no fight. My fists clench but fall to my side. My shallow breaths conserving what oxygen I do have. The weight on my stomach has pushed any excess air from me. I gasp and the weight eases off but I am still very much trapped.

“You pepper sprayed me!” Ethan’s disgust is highlighted when he coughs up and spits on the ground behind us. “You missed my eyes, but I got a mouthful.” He spits again.

“Ethan?” I recognise his voice and his weight.

“Who did you think it was?”

“Really? That is a serious question because I think it’s pretty fucking obvious who I thought you were.” I am slowly absorbing the incoming tide with my clothes and the cold wet water is chilling me to my bones. I wriggle to get out from under him but he holds me firmer. I can’t see the detail of his face but I can feel his fury.

“That is why you shouldn’t be sleeping on the beach,” he says, and I can tell his jaw is clenched tight. Before I can deliver a standard response of…
none of your business…what’s it got to do with you …leave me alone
in lieu of
fuck off and die,
which feels harsh. He rolls off me and pulls me to my feet. I instantly start to shiver, uncontrollable with sodden, icy clothes and residual adrenaline. He slides his warm hand around my neck and squeezes. “That is why you won’t be sleeping on the beach again. Do I make myself clear?” He pinches his fingers into my sand soaked hair. I can’t answer him. I’m in shock, no one has ever spoken to me like that: imperious, firm, and tender at the same time. I don’t get a chance to answer when he thrusts his shoulder into my stomach and lifts me high on his shoulder. I let out a grunt of discomfort and try to steady myself on his tight muscled backside. I wriggle but he slaps me hard, and the wet sting of his palm isn’t remotely softened by my clothes so I don’t move again. “Good girl.”

He takes me straight into the spare room and drops my belongings in a heap by the door. He carries me into the ensuite bathroom and dumps me in the shower. He flicks the hot water on and stands back. “Strip,” he growls. I narrow my gaze. I don’t know what he’s got to be so mad about and then I think about his date. She’s probably waiting for him and I’m preventing that, like it is my fault he chose to assault me while I was sleeping.

“Don’t let me keep you.” I cross my arms over my chest, my nipples ache painfully from the cold and my clothes now weigh a tonne.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, but you aren’t keeping me from anyone. Tiff isn’t here. It’s just you and me. Now strip before you get pneumonia,” he growls, his tone clipped and angry.

“And whose fault is that!” I step back as he barges inside the cubicle with me. This one must be smaller than the one off his bedroom because he fills the space and I shrink a little with his pent up aura of fury and sexual tension. Maybe he didn’t get lucky with Tiff and that’s why he released his inner caveman. That thought unsettles me because I like it too much, maybe I am jealous. This isn’t good. I can’t have feelings like that; anything more than just a physical reaction is a step too far into dangerous relationship territory. Not that Ethan is the relationship type, even Burt warned me as much. Even so, he has me all unbalanced with the urges I feel even now burgeoning inside. Hot and liquid, deep and demanding aches coil around the base of my spine and focus on the nerves between my legs.

He starts to tug at the sodden overstretched material of my clothes, each layer he discards with a violent throw direct into the waste bin in the corner. “These are ugly clothes, Ada. You hide inside them I know, but not anymore.” I start to speak but his firm glare silences me. He continues to peel my underwear until I am naked and soaking in the red hot downpour of the shower. He turns me and places my hands on the wall. My heartbeat thumps loudly in competition with the noise of the waters striking my skin. He scoops my hair into his soapy hands and massages all the sand and suds away. He works his fingers over every inch of my body, tentative and reverent. He lingers on the straps of leather on my wrist, the ones that cover my hand drawn ink, but only for a moment. Sweeping movements and soft scraping of his finger nails has my skin on fire and I am so grateful for the constant flow of water, which is undoubtedly masking my own arousal. He lays his palms flat on my tummy, and runs his hands to the apex of my legs. His thumbs resting just above where they need to be. Where I need them to be. I shift my hips to try and get some contact but he withdraws from me, turns the water off and steps from the shower. His absence is more drastic than flicking the temperature to freezing.

He quickly strips, his clothes so wet they make a pool of water on their own on the floor. I just stand and stare at him. He looks so perfect, his lips curl in a sweet smile when he catches me looking and my tummy tightens for all the wrong reasons. Lust and desire are good reasons anything more is bad and this feels a lots like more. He wraps a huge bath towel that drowns me and sets about rubbing me dry. I feel warm and buffed by the time he is finished. He leads me into the bedroom and pulls back the covers.

“Your bed.” He manoeuvres me to sit and lifts my legs under the sheet. He even tucks me in. This kindness, this tenderness is going to end me. I need to get out. “If you get hungry help yourself to anything in the kitchen and if you need anything else,you know where my room is.” He pauses like he wants to say more but decides against it, and with a tiny towel wrapped around his waist he leaves me alone, speechless, and more than a little bit horny in his guest bedroom. I can’t deny the cotton sheets feel like silk on my skin and the bed is so comfortable it feels like a crime to leave it. It is a crime but it is also a necessity. I waited a while just staring at the beautiful room, even the ceiling looked like icing on a wedding cake. Everything was pristine, elegant and stylish. The driftwood furniture, the scattered sheepskin rugs and the original art work. It was a lovely room. In the darkness I can’t make out the colour scheme but it oozes taste and money.

My clothes were ruined but in the cupboard there was an old pair of jeans that I managed to keep up with a belt. A T-shirt and a cable knit sweater, which could double as a shelter it was so large. My shoes were still on the beach so I slipped on a pair of Ethan’s socks. I give one last covetous look at the comfy bed and sigh–a crime right there. I turn the door handle with stealth like silence and eased my way out. The stripped oak floorboard creaked under foot but it wouldn’t have mattered if I had levitated out of the room because Ethan was waiting. Leaning against the kitchen island, he even had two glasses of whisky in his hand; he was waiting for me.