Lengths (10 page)

“Stand up,” he says, jerking me out of my embarrassingly guilty thoughts. He reaches his hand out and helps me up. I’m adjusting the ties on my stupid bikini that I'd sworn I’d never wear again when Deo pushes me. I stumble forward a few steps, kicking sand up behind me.
“Thought so, goofy-footed.” He looks triumphant.
I glare, fuming over the fact that he almost made me expose one boob while I was trying to catch myself. “What the hell, Deo?”
              As expected, his eye is right on that nearly naked tata, which I cover with a frantic snap of stretchy red fabric. His eyes are quietly appreciative, and it sends a warm, hot hum through me.               “Sorry, I had to figure out which foot you put forward. I couldn’t warn you. In surfing, if you think about, you’ll fall.”
              “This is a ton of stuff. Are you sure this is safe?” Now that I’m as modestly covered as my teeny tiny bikini allows, my outrage shifts gears and turns into stomach-churning worry.
              All the peeping-tom, mischievous, laid-back surfer elements of Deo’s little show slide away, and his eyes become as calm and serious as his voice.

“Whit, I can’t promise you much of anything, but I promise I’ll never let you get hurt.”
              My heart leaps and thuds in my chest. That’s an awfully big promise, especially from someone who currently holds more power than anyone else to do exactly that.
              “Yeah, but you’ll do anything,” I say shakily, trying to lighten the mood.
              He furrows his brow, then nods as if some piece to this whole million-piece puzzle we’re putting together finally snapped into place. “Is that what’s scaring you so damn bad?”

I suck in my bottom lip, just like I always do when I’m nervous, or totally brain dead and don’t know what the hell to say. And he’s staring at me, at my mouth, with a hungry, needy look, and I really think he’s about to kiss me. And I may lean forward, just an inch, towards those lips that I know so damn well.

Even though that’s not in the friend zone, at all.

He blinks several times and shakes his head, like someone said the magic word and he’s no longer hypnotized. Or maybe I just stopped biting my lip.
              “Let’s get in the water and cool off,” he says, his voice slightly strangled.
              I just nod, since I don’t trust my voice at the moment.
              We wade into the salty water, and even its tingling crispness isn’t doing enough to counteract the searing temperature from Deo’s hand, burning a hole in me as it rests protectively on the small of my back.
              I’m about waist deep when Deo looks at me and rubs a warm hand on my shoulder, as if he can sense my nerves. “Don’t worry, we aren’t going any farther. I think today, I’ll just teach you how to paddle-
out
.” He reaches up like he’s going to touch my face, then seems to think better of it, and forms his lips into a tight line. “Okay, climb up on the board and lay your body on the center of it.”
              I try to maneuver my way on, but it’s not as easy as he makes it sound.
              “Don’t lean back like that, you’ll make the nose rise, that’ll create too much resistance,” Deo explains. He physically moves me onto the board, his strong hands gripping my hips as he slides me slowly around like the tasty shark morsel that I’m about to become.  
I start to panic, all of my nervous fears suddenly jumping and crashing into each other under the black ocean waves. Every instinct in my body screams for me to get off this damn board and swim as fast as I can back to the safety of the shore.
              Deo rubs his hands up along my thighs in a way that’s more protective than sexual. “Whit, look at me.” I turn my head in the direction of his voice. I register the sharp promise in his eyes. “I will not let you get hurt. Trust me. I promise you.”
              And, despite all shark-related, wipe-out-fearing logic, I do trust him. The look in his eyes calms my erratic heartbeat, and I feel sure I can do this, this crazy, amazing thing I’ve always wanted to do. Deo gives me courage to full-on attack every fear that’s keeping me from trying. And keeping me from living fully. From doing what scares the crap out of me. I swallow hard, make my best attempt at a smile, and let myself just trust that he’ll be there to watch my back in case I crash and burn. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

***

<“So, what’d you think?” Deo asks as he carries the boards back up the beach. My arms are limp noodles, and my legs don’t want to work properly. I keep stumbling and bumping into Deo as I attempt to walk again.
              “It was great!” I search my mind for better words to describe the rush of being so immersed in the ocean, the thrill of mastering this skill that scared me for such a long time, the sweet realization that I could put my trust in Deo and let go for a little while. But all I manage is a wet, dopey grin.
              “Come on, for real?” He stashes the boards in his Jeep and opens the passenger side door for me, his body warm and so close I want to lick it.
              Ugh, no! Bad friend, bad friend, Whit.
              “Thanks, buddy,” I say, even though I’m aware it’s more than slightly obnoxious. I need to voice our boundaries before my addled mind and body forget and lead us somewhere we can’t come back from. “I think next time will be better, you know, when I’m not so nervous. And maybe next time we get together, I can teach you something.” My tongue feels weirdly thick, I assume from all the salt water and sheer, amazing exhaustion.
              Deo starts the Jeep and grins. “Doll, I have no doubt you could teach me things. Where to?”
We end up back at my apartment, because, it's one of those perfect days with a friend that you’re never quite ready to have come to an end.
              “Do you want a beer?” I pace over to the fridge as he sprawls on my tiny loveseat.
              Deo narrows his eyes at me. “Have you been holding out on me? I thought you weren’t old enough to drink?”
              I laugh and pull my wallet out of my bamboo beach bag.
              “I have a fake ID.” I proudly produce the Pennsylvania State ID that I paid a shit-ton of money for. The picture is just over a year old, and it’s out of state now that I’m in California, but it hasn’t failed me yet.
              “No shit.” Deo plucks the license from my hands. “Wow, your hair was so long. Doesn’t even look like you.”
              That’s because it’s not me. It’s just a girl I used to know. Someone who didn’t understand how complicated and unfair life could be.  
              “Anyway, beer?” I ask, holding the cold import up.
              “What the hell.” Deo comes up behind me, reaches around my body with the warm snake of one arm, grabs two and pops them both open. “Only if you’re joining me, friend.”
              We both take a long pull from our bottles and, by the look on Deo’s face, he’s just as beat as I am. The unrelenting pounding of the waves and the sunshine have completely drained me. He takes me by the hand and pulls me back while he flops on the tiny loveseat. The way we’re tangled so close, limbs twined, skin rubbing against skin could be friendly, technically. But I have to remind myself of the friendly nature over and over again as my body keeps sending my brain a whole different message.
              “So, now that I’m just your boring, hot-as-hell, sexy surfing
friend
, I guess I should ask you the basics. Like how school is going.” When I don’t say anything immediately, he grabs my foot, which is laying on his thigh, and starts massaging it with sure, unbelievably amazing fingers. I pull my lower lip between my teeth to keep from moaning and his hands press quicker and harder. “Uh, if you want this to stay friendly, you’d better bore me with some long-ass school story. Now.”
              “You could stop rubbing my foot like th--aaah,” I sigh.
              He raises one eyebrow. “You really want me to stop?” His thumb slides along my arch, then rubs a heart-stopping line along the center of my foot.
              “No. No, don’t stop.” I try to focus. “Okay. School. Right. I have this project right now for my anthropology class.” He presses on the place right under my toes, and I swear I feel the stirrings of an orgasm. This is so not friend territory, and I’d be smart to stop it right this minute.
              No one ever said I was smart.
              “So what are you doing? Digging up bones of ancient Califonians? Robbing graves? Searching for the Holy Grail?” The mix of his joking voice and his tantalizing hands makes my head spin.
              I look at him through half-closed eyes, and he’s even more gorgeous slightly blurry. He needs to leave.
              I never want him to leave.
              “That’s archeology,” I explain. “I’m in anthropology. We’re studying different cultures. So, my assignment was to watch people in a social situation and make note of any cultural details, like manners or gender roles.”
              “Ah. I get it. Not as interesting as fighting Nazis and almost getting your heart ripped out by crazy Hindus, but we can’t all be Indiana Jones, right?” He drops my left foot and picks up the right one, treating it to the same mind-numbingly awesome treatment as its mate.
              “Did you learn everything you know about history from Indiana Jones?” I ask, arching my back as he hits
the perfect spot
that I didn’t even know existed on my body.
              “All the important stuff.” His hands move more quickly, but his voice slows to an almost slur.               “So, bout this assignment?”
              “I used your mom’s dinner party,” I confess, my voice bleary with the warring needs for him to stop immediately and never take his hands off of me. “And I got back the rough today. My professor wants to read it to the class next lecture.”
              Deo’s brows press over his eyes and his smile is wry. “I could have told you that writing about me would get you an A.” His cockiness melts away at my smirk. “What did you write about, exactly?”
              I bat my lashes at him. “Oh, you know. The sad, desperate flirting attempts of young unemployed men.”
              He shakes his head, a smile curved on his lips. “You can’t resist me. Admit it.”
              “I would say something smart, but this foot rub is amazing, Deo. I can’t lie. I feel like I have no bones in my body. Where did you learn to do this?” I roll my neck back as he purposefully hits that certain spot that melts every tense spot in my body.
              “It’s in my sad, desperate flirting bag,” he teases, then his voice goes low. “Seriously, I’m proud of you. Maybe I can see the paper sometime?”
              “About that.” I sit up on one elbow and catch his eye. “Deo, I want you to come to lecture with me.”
              “To sign autographs?” He wiggles my toe.
              “No. I think...I think you might like it at college. If you wanted, you could come and see what I’m doing.” I try not to sigh when he puts my feet aside.
              “That would be cool, Whit. But, you know, I tried college. It just wasn’t my thing. And don’t you worry your gorgeous head about me. I’m a survivalist. I know right now I don’t seem like I have decent prospects, but wait for the zombie apocalypse. I’ll be leading civilization back from the brink and slaying those brain suckers left and right.” He regards me from under his heavy eyelids and his easy smile is as sad as it is charming.
              “Deo...it’s fine if you don’t want to go to college, but you may want to secure something. Just on the off-chance that I pursue biology and come up with a vaccine that will curb the zombie apocalypse before you get a chance to show off your skills. Which I have no doubt are amazing.”               I try to joke back, but today just proved all over again how amazing and passionate and smart Deo is. I hate to think about him wasting his life, his time. I don’t think he realizes just how damn little we get.
              “C’mon. Don’t be sad. Many beautiful women have tried to reform me before. It’s a lost cause. I’ll just be your hilarious, uber-sexy sidekick. Good for a little surfing and a couple of beers, maybe with a semi-sexual foot rub thrown in once in awhile. I’m like the perfect no-strings-attached friend. Just like you wanted, right?” Though his tone stays light, there’s a sharp edge underneath, and I decide to back off. He looks at me for a second, like he’s debating saying something else, then changes gears. “Enough of this serious, depressing crap. You wanna see if we can rot our brains with a good zombie flick? Or maybe some shark attack show. Just kidding! I want you to surf with me again. I wish you could see your face right now. Priceless.” He glances at the wall where most people would have a TV. I have seven small plants that are in various stages of death. “No TV?” Deo asks, turning in a small circle.
              “I have one in my room. I don’t watch a whole lot of TV, I just keep it on at night, for you know...” I sigh. He just finished laughing about my irrational shark fears.
              But he drops the teasing and gets that sympathetic look that makes my throat scratchy. His voice is real and a little sad when he asks the next questions, and I have to resist the strong urge to curl into his arms and let him peel back all the fears that leave me shaky everyday. “What? Are you scared being here alone?”
              Yes.
              “No. It’s just too quiet. I can’t sleep like that. Total silence is just...weird.”
              Deo nods like he’s not buying it.
              “Do you wanna watch something...in my room?” For all my ‘just friends’ talk I sure seem to cross the line in a million different ways. Between the tiny bikini, the foot rub, and, now, the beer-fuzzy invitation to come to my room, my line in the sand is as indistinct as if it had been drawn too close to the waves at high tide.
              “Sure. Mind if I grab another beer?” Deo swallows so hard I can see the tendons in his neck go tight.
              I back away from him, needing a second alone to prepare myself for Deo. In my room. With me. Alone. “Grab two, I’m gonna go change. And find something on TV.”
              I hurry into the bathroom and change into a pair of soft cotton short and a tank top. I don’t even have the energy to shower, I’m that tired.
              Back in my room, Deo is already leaning up against the headboard. His head is tipped back and his eyes are closed. I flip on the ceiling fan and start toward the bed, but Deo’s eyes pop open.
              “What are you trying to do, kill me, woman?”
              “What are you talking about?”
              “The fan, turn it off!” He’s frantic. I haven’t seen him like this before.
              “Deo, it’s a fan. Get a grip.”
              He crosses the room and flips the switch to off.
              “Don’t you know that ceiling fans cause Bell’s Palsey?”
              I want to laugh, but it is so apparent from the look on his face that he is dead serious.
              “They do not. That’s an old wive’s tale. I’ve been sleeping under one forever,” I say.
              “Ask Marigold!” he challenges, knowing I more than believe in his mom’s supernatural abilities when it comes to healing and health. He plops back onto the bed next to me.
              The twitch in my lip can’t be stopped and I burst into a full, rolling laugh.
              “I’m sorry. That’s absurd, Deo!”
              He stares at me straight-faced, so I make an effort to pull my mouth back into a thoughtful, serious line.
              “Fine. I can see this is a very sore subject with you, and as your friend, I’m going to drop it. And leave the fan off. On one condition.” My voice shakes a tiny bit, but I get a handle on it.  
              “What’s that?” Deo runs his hand through his hair and sighs. He looks tired.
              I take a deep breath and just take the plunge, just ask him for what I want, even if I know this is making that damn fading line in the sand even sketchier. “Would you maybe stay here tonight? With me? Just as friends, of course.”
              I don’t know if Deo is confused or horrified or what, but he doesn’t answer at first./p>