Heat Wave: A Summer Loving Anthology Page 10

  Maybe it’s time I give her a reason to want to be.

  She doesn’t feel me approaching as I ease up behind her. The prick realizes I’m close to them, but not in enough time to warn Mali. I hook one arm behind her knees, sweep her feet out from under her, and support her back with my other arm. She squeals in surprise and flails in my arms for a second, so I hug her closer to me. Realization dawns and she looks up at me ruefully as she hooks her arm around my neck.

  “Jagger, you scared the hell out of me,” she laughingly admonishes. “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on someone in the ocean?”

  “Guess I missed that memo,” I smile. “And I missed you. You disappeared on me.”

  “You were busy talking with your new fan,” she replies. “I didn’t want to intrude.”

  One thing I’ve always hated and tried to avoid is a clingy, needy girl. The type that gets jealous when I talk to another female. One time, my date was instantly threatened because a ninety-year-old grandma asked me for the time. Ridiculous behavior. So why does it bother me that there’s no jealousy or cattiness in Mali’s voice? She walked off and left me alone with the flirty girl without a backward glance.

  “She was the one who intruded. I didn’t want to be rude to a potential new fan. But, that doesn’t mean I didn’t want you there.”

  “Hey, man,” the prick interrupts. “The lady and I were having a conversation.”

  “Oh, dude, I’m sorry,” I reply, being completely facetious. “Please continue.”

  Mali is still in my arms with her arm around my neck and we’re both waiting for the prick to dazzle us with his conversational skills. So far, I have to say I’m less than impressed. Tilting my head slightly to the side, I raise my brows in an attempt to cue him.

  “Where were we?” The prick speaks. Finally.

  “I believe you were at the part where you called me an idiot,” I answer.

  “How could I call you an idiot when I didn’t even know you?”

  “You said she should dump me because I’m an idiot for not taking her off the market,” I remind him. “So, you can pick up there and finish giving us the rest of your invaluable advice.”

  “Whatever, man,” he replies. Frustrated, he gives up and leaves us alone in the ocean.

  When Mali looks up at me, I know without a doubt that something is wrong. What she said to that prick stung, but I can’t blame her for it. She can’t hide the pain in her eyes. I bend my knees, lower my body into the water, and set her on my legs. Now we’re face to face and away from everyone else.

  “What’s wrong, Mali? Talk to me,” I gently urge her.

  “Nothing,” she lies.

  She glides through the water effortlessly as I turn her to face me. Her legs wrap around my waist and I cover her mouth with mine. She hesitates at first, but I feel her entire body relax as she stops fighting and engages in our kiss. I thread my arms under hers and cross them on her back, pulling her tightly to me. Skin on skin, there’s barely enough room for a droplet of water to pass between us.

  When I break the kiss, I hold her face with both of my hands. “Mali, please talk to me. I know something’s bothering you.”

  “I don’t like the lies,” she replies cryptically.

  She’s done this a few other times, phrasing her response so that can be interpreted in multiple ways.

  “What lies, specifically?”

  She takes a minute to answer, but I wait patiently.

  “Yours.”

  “Mine? What have I lied to you about?”

  “Let’s not do this now,” she avoids answering me. “We should just enjoy the time we have.”

  “We’re not finished with this conversation,” I state. “If I’ve done something, you can at least give me a chance to explain or make up for it.”

  “You can make up for it,” she tries to distract me.

  Her hand moves between my legs and strokes me through my shorts. It’s not a terrible plan, as far as distractions go. I may give her fifteen minutes or so to stop doing it, just for good measure. “I thought you needed my help to become braver. Here you are, trying to have your way with me out in public,” I tease.

  “What can I say? You naturally bring out the bad girl in me.”

  What worries me is, the way she said it doesn’t sound like her bad girl will be good for me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MALI

  WE WENT TO THE CLUB last night and, like a good little Jagger York groupie, I watched him perform, play up to the female fans that lined the front row of the stage, and fight off about a hundred girls after the show. The funny thing is, after the show he had every chance to leave my side, but he didn’t. Girls came out of the woodwork with excuses why they needed his help, something that he was the only man in the universe equipped to handle, but he refused every one of them.

  His hand held onto mine, his arm was wrapped around me, or his lips were on mine the entire time. There was even one song he sang to me as we sat in the booth, drinking beer and munching on appetizers. His parents left a note that it was their date night and they wouldn’t be back. Cass left with Dane after the show was over and said we shouldn’t expect her either. That meant Jagger’s place would be completely empty for the night.

  The warm water of his pool felt divine against my bare skin. Even after spending all week in the water, I never tire of it. My parents have joked that I was a mermaid in a past life because I live in the water and visit dry land. Last night, skinny-dipping with Jagger left me with a new appreciation for the water, underwater acrobatics, and creative ways to use pool noodles.

  Knowing this day has been inevitable from the start doesn’t make it one ounce easier. Over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten to know every side of Jagger. His sweet, thoughtful side, the playful, boyish side, and the deceitful, fake side. My favorite, though, is the vulnerable, genuine aspect that he hides beneath his obnoxious stage persona. He doesn’t let it show often, but I’ve seen it and that’s the part of him that I’m keeping with me.

  It’s five a.m. on Sunday morning and Jagger is still fast asleep. He was so worn out after his show, followed by our late night swim, and then a repeat in his bedroom, that he didn’t feel me leave the bed. Even if he didn’t know my intent, I held nothing back as I made love to him last night. With every touch, every movement, and every utterance, I gave him my heart. Did he steal my heart, or did I willingly hand it over? Either way, it’s his now.

  He didn’t hear me gathering my things. He didn’t realize I was getting dressed. And he won’t know I’m gone for several hours yet. I can’t help but stare at him one last time before I walk out. I haven’t slept at all tonight and I’ll pay for it while I’m at practice all day. All I could do was stare at his gorgeous face as he slept and wonder if he has any clue how completely in love with him I am.

  In my mind, I tell him all the things I’d never say to his face. You were my hero in the club that night. You took care of me when you didn’t have to. You’ve helped me step out of my sheltered world, but you don’t fully realize it. Even though this started as a fake relationship, it’s ending as something very real to me. I’ll never forget you, Jagger York.

  One thing I never told him was why I had to go out of town and miss practice those few days. I took his band’s CD to my dad personally and asked him to listen to it. We spent time together, just talking about my future and what happens if I don’t make the cut to go to the Olympic preliminaries. It’s a very real possibility since there are only six spots open for women and six for men per country, and there over twenty thousand competitive divers in the U.S. who would love to have a spot. Past performance is a major factor in being selected for the team, and so is current skill level compared to the other competitors.

  I’ve replayed the discussion with my father over and over in my mind…

  “Hi, Daddy.” I smiled as I entered his enormous office, unannounced and unexpected.

  Surprise registered on his face, qu
ickly followed by joy to see me. “Hey, Precious,” he smiled brightly as he used his pet name for me. “What in the world are you doing here?”

  “I have something I want you to listen to. I know you well enough to know that I have to be here in person to make you listen to it,” I laughed.

  “My secret is out. It’s the only way I get to see you,” he joked. “Give your old daddy a hug.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly. “I’ve missed you,” I said as I kissed his cheek.

  “I’ve missed you, too, baby girl,” he replied. When we stepped back, he continued. “This must be pretty important to you since you’re missing dive practice right now.” He quirked one eyebrow up and quickly assessed me. “And you have a long flight back to Miami…from LAX.”

  “It is,” I replied. “I need your full attention to it.”

  “You got it,” he promised. “Let’s hear it.”

  I walked over to his stereo and put the CD in and then took a seat in front of his desk. He turned the volume up using his remote, leaned his head back in his huge, leather chair, and closed his eyes. Jagger’s voice filled the room as he crooned his own eclectic blend of different music genres. After a few songs had played, Daddy opened his eyes and paused the music.

  “They’re pretty good,” he nodded. “How did you come into possession of this particular band’s music?”

  “That’s classified. I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you. Courts frown on children killing their parent,” I smiled.

  He laughed, knowing I was only teasing him, and shook his head. “Yes, they do. And fathers frown on their daughters flying from coast to coast for a fifteen minute meeting.”

  “It could be longer,” I offered. “You could listen to the whole thing.”

  “I don’t need to hear any more. Leave me his contact information and I’ll be in touch soon. Don’t expect it in the next three to four weeks, though. I have a contract negotiation and a new release being mixed, so I can’t start anything new just yet.”

  “Promise me, Daddy,” I said solemnly, knowing how he frequently changed his mind or forgot if too much time passed. “I need to hear the words.”

  He sighed heavily but indulged me. “I promise, Mali. In three or four weeks–five at the most–I will give him a call.”

  “Thank you, Daddy. You’re the best.”

  “I try for my little girl. How long are you staying?”

  “A couple of days. I’ve already cleared it with my coach, but I had to agree to practice the next two weekends to make up for it,” I replied half-heartedly.

  “Be careful, Mali,” he replied softly.

  “I’ll be fine.” I nodded, but we both knew he wasn’t referring to my training schedule.

  The soft clicking of the door locking behind me sealed my decision. There’s no way to get back inside now even if I changed my mind. I started my car, backed out of his driveway without turning my headlights on, and drove away. My plan was to drive away without looking back, as a symbolic gesture to myself. But I couldn’t do it. I had to know if he’d noticed my absence yet. Like a scene from a romance movie, part of me hoped he was running barefoot down the street behind my car, calling my name, begging me to come back.

  His dark house showed no signs of movement. No indication that my absence had been detected. I saw nothing to suggest that I was the least bit missed. Dragging my eyes from my rearview mirror, I focused on the road ahead of me, and where it would take me. I’d always planned my future out, took the steps I needed to achieve my goals, and even though I have Olympic aspirations, I approach it realistically. Up until this idea, I’ve always taken the mature route. I suppose I’m allowed one enormous fuck up in my life.

  When I reach the condo, I quickly shower, pack a bag with enough to last a few days, and head straight to the training facility. After a quick Google search, I dial the number and the call is answered on the second ring.

  “Grand Beach Hotel. How can I help you?” the friendly girl answers.

  “I’d like to make a reservation, please,” I reply.

  “I’ll be glad to help you with that. When are you arriving?”

  “Today. I’d like an oceanfront corner room, if possible,” I reply.

  “For how many nights?”

  “Three,” I reply after deliberating for a couple of seconds.

  After taking my name and credit card information, she confirmed my stay and promised my room would be ready as requested. On autopilot, I reached the pool, changed into my bathing suit for diving, and started my practice early. The busier I stay, the easier it is to keep the sad thoughts away. I climb the stairs to the ten-meter platform first to start practicing the various high dives. When I surface after the first dive, slow clapping startles me.

  “You’re here early,” Coach Platt says. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  As I haul myself out of the water, I nod. “Something like that.”

  “That was excellent form, Mali. You’re more focused this morning than I’ve seen you lately,” he comments.

  “I’m working on that.”

  “Keep that up and you have a shot.” He smiles and walks on toward his office.

  I make the steady climb up the flights of stairs to the high platform and do it all over again. And again. And again.

  JAGGER

  “YOU’VE GOT TO BE fucking kidding me,” I yell as I stomp through the house. Checking the back deck for the fourth time doesn’t produce any new results. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  I’ve called her phone repeatedly but she hasn’t answered. Being the attentive, considerate boyfriend that I am, I don’t even know which pool she practices at because I never bothered to ask. She took all of her things with her and didn’t say goodbye. She’s been gone since long before her normal practice time because she wasn’t here when I woke up early. I reached for her… to hold her while we slept… because I’ve turned into a pussy-whipped moron.

  That was two hours ago and I still can’t reach her. I eventually called the guard’s station at her condo, told him I couldn’t reach her and I was concerned she’d been in a wreck or something. He finally told me she’d already been there and left again. I’ve been pacing back and forth for probably the past hour when my parents show up.

  “Jagger, what’s wrong?” Mom asks when she’s sees the wild look in my eyes.

  “Something’s wrong with Mali. I know it, I feel it, but she won’t talk to me.” I’ve admitted defeat. I’m talking to my mom about my girlfriend.

  “Maybe she wants more from you than your current arrangement,” Dad says.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Maybe she wants you to actually tell her that you want her to be your real girlfriend and not just your pretend one,” he elaborates.

  “How do you know about that?” I’m going to kill Cass.

  “I heard you tell Cass about your arrangement,” he admits. “But you were too focused on yourself to see Mali honestly cares about you.”

  “That wasn’t supposed to happen. It was her idea,” I defend myself. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t care about her, too.”

  “If you never told her, how was she supposed to know?” he asks. Rhetorically, I’m sure, since he already knows the answer.

  My chin drops to my chest as I hang my head in shame. Of course he’s right. Cass was right, too. “She won’t take my call. I’m sure she’s at diving practice right now, but I don’t think she’ll answer it later, either.”

  “Then I guess you better find another way to get through to her.” Dad gives me a pat on the shoulder as he and Mom walk back to their bedroom.

  “Oh, by the way, we found a house. We’ll be out of your way in a couple of weeks,” he says.

  “No need to rush,” I reply with all sincerity.

  Two days later, she still hasn’t answered my calls. She hasn’t even returned to her condo. The only way I know she’s okay is because Jennifer feels sorry for m
e in my current deranged state. Even Joey, the club owner, has noticed a difference in my demeanor on stage. My heart just isn’t in it right now. Cass and Dane have something going on. While they try to make me feel better, they’re obviously becoming more than just a passing fling. That doesn’t help.

  Mom and Dad just left for their date night, Cass and Dane are out doing whatever they do, and I’m sitting here all alone. When my phone rings with an unknown number, my heart skips a beat at the possibility it’s Mali calling me.

  “Hello?” I answer expectantly.

  “Is this Jagger York?” an older man’s voice asks.

  “Yeah. Who’s this?”

  “This is Milo Greyson. I’d like to meet with you about your music. I happen to be in Miami right now. Can you meet me at Casa Tua at seven tonight?” he asks.

  “That’s great news, Mr. Greyson. I’ll be glad to meet with you,” I reply.

  “When you get here, just tell the hostess you’re here with me. She’ll bring you upstairs to the members-only area. I’ll see you soon.”

  We hang up and I rush to dress appropriately for the most expensive restaurant in Miami. It stings that Mali kept her word even though she won’t speak to me now. Either she’s trying to help get me signed to get rid of me, or she’s an even better person than I gave her credit for. Either way, I’m fucked.

  When I reach the restaurant, the hostess immediately recognizes Milo’s name and escorts me to the ultra-exclusive area upstairs. Milo stands to shake my hand as we officially introduce ourselves.

  “Milo Greyson. Nice to meet you,” he says politely, although a little cool.

  “Jagger York,” I reply. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  “Have a seat,” he gestures.