What Happens Over Spring Break: A Short Story Anthology Read online

  He chuckles. “Oops.”

  My jaw drops. “You flaunted yourself on purpose?”

  “I might have been testing the waters. No pun intended.”

  “For what?”

  “To see if this really was just about swimming.”

  “I thought it was...now I’m not so sure.”

  He nods and then closes the space between us, pressing his firm chest to my breasts. I suck in a sharp breath when our skin connects. He’s hard everywhere.

  “Too close?” he asks.

  My tongue traces the shape of my lips. “I don’t think so.”

  Bert’s hands glide over my arms. “I’m going to kiss you again. Maybe more than once.”

  “I like this idea you propose...”

  He lowers his mouth, teasing his lips over mine. Our breath commingles, erratic and patient at the same time. My breasts heave against his chest in anticipation of the kiss. I try not to move, lingering in the thrilling moment that’s building between us.

  When I can no longer resist, I ask longingly, “Are you going to kiss me?”

  Bert’s mouth inches over my cheek to my ear, trailing his hot breath along the way. “I said I would, and I will. I never make false commitments.”

  “Oh, just making sure. In the meantime, I’ll just be over here combusting internally. Don’t mind me.”

  “Would you like me to extinguish the fire?” That sinful hand of his slides to the back of my neck. “Or continue to feed it?”

  “I have no freaking clue at this point. I—”

  Bert takes my mouth with his, kissing me hungrily. He palms my cheeks, caressing my face, as our lips move easily in harmony. He nips at my bottom lip, and I swear the hot spot between my legs turns to molten lava. I mold my body to his, pressing his hard-on firmly against my belly. His hands move into my hair, combing through the wet ginger locks as I clamber to get even closer to him, hitching a leg around his.

  I gasp when his talented mouth slinks down to my neck. My hands grip his hair as I hang on for dear life, gyrating myself against him in the tropical waters.

  “Is this how skinny dipping is usually done?” Bert asks. He kisses my jaw and then my collarbone.

  “For some,” I answer honestly. “But not usually for me.”

  “So, I am helping with those life experiences you so dearly want to gain.”

  “Yes. And I have zero complaints about your participation.” I slide a hand downward, gripping his ass, pulling him toward me. My hormones are uncontrollable. I’m acting more like a fifteen-year-old girl under the bleachers than a twenty-two-year-old college senior.

  “I hate to admit this, but I want to touch you more.”

  “I’m afraid to admit, I want you to touch me more, too.”

  “This is not how I usually operate.” His breath comes out shakily.

  “I will forgive you for not taking me on long walks and buying me a romantic dinner first,” I say, trying to mask my growing nerves from his closeness.

  “It’s not just that. There are things about me…”

  “We live in different countries.” I frantically kiss him and run my palms over his muscled arms. “I know you’re not a serial killer. Everything else is moot.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I grip his erection. “Yes.”

  He growls. I didn't know men actually did that. I thought it was something only written in books.

  His eyes grow hungry as I stroke his length. Bert plunges his tongue into my mouth and lowers a hand to my breast, cupping it softly and then firmly. He tweaks my nipple and then lowers his other hand to the space between my thighs. His fingers tease me, and I groan into his mouth, anxious for his touch.

  “Oh my god!” Gabby shrieks.

  My heart skitters, shocked by the terror in her voice.

  “What the fuck!” she cries.

  Concerned, I quickly disconnect from Bert, searching for my friend in the waters. “Gabby?” I shout toward her silhouette, which is racing from the water and away from Simon.

  Without a thought, I hurry around Bert and beeline toward the beach, cursing Simon under my breath the entire time. Simon is fast on Gabby’s tail and reaches her before I do.

  Simon’s naked form is crouched over her, talking quickly and quietly when I approach.

  “Get the hell away from her,” I scream at him.

  “Whoa, Victoria,” Gabby says. “It’s okay. It’s not him.”

  I glance between the both of them, dripping and naked before me in the sand. Gabby is holding her foot, which is almost twice the size of the other. “Oh. Holy shit.”

  “She was stung by a jellyfish,” Simon says. “I think she needs to see a doctor.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to pee on it?” I ask.

  “No,” Bert says at my back. “That will make it worse.” He leans over, gloriously naked, to inspect the area of concern on my friend’s foot. “She will likely be fine, but best to see a doctor to be safe.”

  The sun is beginning to rise as I wait for Gabby outside the clinic. She was treated for the jellyfish sting and given a good bill of health. We will be able to make our flight home to the States, on time, without any issues.

  “Sorry, the evening took a different turn than where it was headed,” I say to Bert. He’s been waiting with me while Gabby was being seen. Simon left a little while ago, saying he needed to pack up, so they didn’t miss their flight.

  “It was an adventure,” he says. “I have so many things to add to my life experiences. Thank you for that.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Bert sips his coffee gazing over the buildings at the rising sun. “I feel like you and I have some unfinished business. That we are still on that marathon. I don’t feel like I’ve reached the end of the race.”

  I giggle. “In America, we call that blue balls.”

  He cocks his head and raises his brows.

  “When a guy isn’t able to…” My cheeks warm. “Um...when he doesn’t get that sexual release and is left hanging.”

  Bert looks at his dick. “I do not think it’s blue. Unless you mean sad. Yes, my penis might be a little sad. It did enjoy the time it spent with your hand. But that is not what I was referring to.”

  “Ah, so it’s more romantic in nature.”

  “I have to go soon, but need to know, were you serious about backpacking through Europe? Is this something you are planning to do?”

  Is it? The desire is there, but the commitment is lacking. It was something I mentioned last night as a fun bit of conversation mixed with drinks and a cute guy. As the sun begins to rise, the question being posed feels less fleeting than the subject matter being proposed last night in a different context.

  “I would like to,” I say and chew on my lower lip. “But I don’t know.”

  “What do you not know?”

  “Whether I will or not. There are so many variables.”

  “If you go, I will go with you.”

  He said the same thing last night. It felt like a joke then. A way to placate me. This morning...there is no humor to the subject.

  “You can’t be serious,” I say. “Right?”

  “I told you, this journey between us is not over. You want to go. I know you do. I could see it plastered all over your face when you mentioned it.”

  “And you are willing to just...go with me?”

  “Yes,” he says simply.

  Are we on a marathon, he and I, that has only just begun? Maybe, but I’ll never know unless I meet him halfway, and what better way than to do something I’ve been dreaming about for years.

  “Set a date,” I challenge him. “And I’ll meet you at Heathrow.”

  “June 30th. Heathrow airport. Terminal 2. I’ll be waiting just outside the exit for the international arrivals. 6 PM local time.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yes, but there is something I should tell you.”
/>   A taxi pulls up to the sidewalk, honking its horn. Simon leans out the back window and urgently says, “C’mon, Albie! We have a flight to catch. Your parents will kill us both if we miss it.”

  “Looks like you need to go,” I say.

  “Victoria, really, I need to tell you—”

  I cut him off. “Are you trying to scare me off?”

  “No. I haven’t told you everything about me though.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  “I already know you aren’t a serial killer. We’ve talked about this. Anything else, I don’t want to know. At least not right now.” I kiss him quickly on the cheek, my heart bursting with adrenaline and anticipation on the agreement we just made and push him toward the vehicle. “I’ll see you June 30th!”

  Bert gives me one last look, excitement and questions swimming through his eyes. He wraps his arms around me and kisses me passionately, making my blood thump loudly in my ears.

  “All right, Prince Charming,” Simon says. “That’s enough. Let’s go!”

  One more peck of his lips on mine and Bert is gone.

  June 30th can’t come fast enough.

  With boarding passes in hand and bags checked, Gabby and I wait at the gate for our flight to board so we can be on our way home. It’s been an amazing spring break, ending with a very eventful and long last night. One I know I’ll never forget.

  “How’s the foot?” I ask Gabby lounging in the seat next to me. “Feeling better?”

  “It feels better than my head.” She touches her temples and then straightens her sunglasses over her face. “What a freakin’ night. My brain is pounding, and I’m dead on my feet. I drank way too much.”

  “Yeah. Me too. How about some coffee?” I suggest. “That should help with your headache.”

  “Yeah. I could do with some serious caffeinating.”

  I rise from my seat. “I’ll be right back.”

  After a quick stop in the restroom, I meander down past three gates and am drawn to the delicious java aromas from an airport coffee shop. It’s nothing fancy like we have in the States, but they offer cappuccinos, so I’m happy. With two cups of liquid morning happiness in hand, I head back to where I left Gabby seated and watching television. It’s still a good half hour before we will likely board the aircraft, but after last night, neither Gabby nor I wanted to do much other than begin our journey home.

  I smile thinking about last night. While Gabby might be feeling the negative effects of the evening in her foot and head, I’m still reeling from my time with Bert and our agreement to meet. As more time passes since I said yes to our upcoming adventure, the more I realize it was the right decision. I would be kicking myself if I’d said no.

  Taking my seat next to Gabby, I thrust the cup in front of her. She doesn’t take it, staring off.

  “Hello, Earth to Gabby. Anyone home? I brought your coffee.”

  She flips up her sunglasses and takes the beverage, still not looking at me. Then out of nowhere, she whispers, “Holy fuck.”

  “What?”

  “Are you watching this?”

  “Watching what?”

  “The TV.”

  Gabby grabs my chin and directs my attention to the television hanging from the ceiling. I can’t hear what’s being said by the broadcaster, but there are subtitles. The phrases “Royal Scandal” and “Prince Albert” catch my attention in the slew of words that scroll over the pictures of me. Yes, me, dancing suggestively with Bert, from last night.

  Bert. No, he’s Prince Albert.

  “Victoria... Did you know he was…?”

  “Royalty.” I swallow. “No.”

  “Not just royalty. He’s a prince!!”

  My head pounds, and I don’t think a cup of coffee will cure it.

  I kissed a prince... and touched his penis. Is this my life?

  And we made plans to meet.

  Was any of it real?

  June 30th

  With tickets to Scotland in hand—one in my name and the other in Victoria’s—I am standing at Heathrow airport, suddenly very nervous about what might or might not occur in the next few minutes. Either Victoria shows up, and we embark on a great adventure together, or she… how did Simon put it… ghosts me? Ghosting. What a strange thing to say. I would think that being a ghost would infer a death, but in dating terms, this just means to disappear without a trace.

  It’s while I’m contemplating better terms for this “ghosting” definition when I see her. Victoria’s once-unruly red hair—now pulled back into a tamed ponytail—crests my eyeline. Her backpack rides high on her freckled shoulders, slender neck craning as she searches the crowd of people… for me.

  My heart stops momentarily as our eyes meet and her steps slow then cease moving altogether. She’s not that far away from me now, but I wait for her to approach. There’s something in her expression that lets me know I should not make a move. Her mouth is in a firm line as she begins to walk again, arms crossed over those exquisite breasts I’ve only been fortunate enough to touch once.

  I’d very much like the opportunity to do that again.

  When she’s finally toe-to-toe with me, I allow myself to inhale a deep breath.

  “Prince Albert of Liechtenstein, I presume?” She holds her hands up and makes a face. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

  “To be fair, I did tell you where I was from. That wasn’t a lie.”

  “It sounded like a lie. Liechtenstein is the name Heath Ledger’s character uses in A Knight’s Tale. I thought you were joking. I thought you just didn’t want to say you were some guy from Berlin or from London. I don’t know. I didn’t expect my ass to be on the front cover of The Daily Mail.” She makes finger quotes, “‘Scandalous!’ Do you know how mad my dad was?” Her pink cheeks are bright red, but her eyes are filled with mischief.

  I lean down a little to get closer to her ear. “Imagine my father’s reaction.” This gets a laugh from her when I pull back to study her face. “You said you didn’t want to know anything else.”

  “I should have clarified. I knew you weren’t a serial killer. Next time I’ll know to ask if someone is royalty.”

  Clearing my throat, I tentatively reach a hand out to move a lock of hair from her face. “Next time?”

  “Right. Next time I find myself in Cancun being swept off my feet by a hot guy with an accent and some killer dance moves, I’ll remember to stop and ask if there are any paparazzi following us and if he’s next in line to lead a small European country.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not next in line,” I assure her. “Second to next.”

  “I know. It’s amazing what a girl can learn with a quick internet search.” She releases a long sigh. “Okay. Was everything else you told me that night true? Or was I part of your bucket list of slumming-it adventures.” The hopefulness in her voice is apparent, making my chest ache. So much, I don’t even think to question why anyone would have a list of buckets.

  “Every word I said, to you, was nothing but the truth. I wanted to meet you at the bar. I want these real-world experiences just like you do. With you. You are so incredibly beautiful, and interesting, and honestly one of the most remarkable people I’ve met in my life. I’m here, just like I said. I can’t think of any other person I’d like to travel across Europe with than you.”

  “Not even Simon?” She asks, tilting her head. “How do you know him, by the way? He wasn’t mentioned in the news, and I couldn’t find anything on him, either.”

  “Ah, yes. Simon. He’s my cousin. Far removed, but cousin nonetheless. I was researching the family lineage and came across his portion of the tree and asked my father if I could visit extended family. Needless to say, I am banned from seeing him again, and he won’t be invited to any future gatherings at our home.”

  “You don’t even seem to be related.”
r />   “It’s best described as how Anna and Elsa are related to Rapunzel…”

  Victoria’s laugh is loud enough to cause a few travelers to turn and stare in our direction. “Are you explaining this to me in Disney terms?”

  “Simon’s younger sister came up with that. It seemed to work.” My face is red again under her gaze. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Again.”

  Victoria steps into me and inhales deeply as if she’s centering herself before speaking once more. “It’s not offensive. It’s adorable. And so are you, dammit.”

  “I am?”

  “You are. With as much as I’d like to be mad at you right now for keeping such a huge secret from me, I can’t find it in me to care right now. Not standing here with you.”

  “Does that mean we’re going?” I don’t even want to keep the hope I feel out of my voice.

  Victoria slips her hand into mine. “I’m here at Heathrow, holding a ticket, wearing a backpack. Did you really think I was going to go through all this trouble if I wasn’t planning to go with you?”

  “Women are very confusing, but I suppose that would have been a bit much.” I pull her toward the terminal where our flight will be departing. “I took the liberty of planning our first destination.” I show her the tickets, one with her name and one with mine.

  “Edinburgh, Scotland?” She laughs as we stand in the queue to board the plane. “We’re really doing this.”

  “Yes, we are. I mapped out what I think will be the best route for us and where we can stay. Places I think you’d like to see, landmarks to visit.” I pull a folded itinerary from my pocket and begin to open it.

  Victoria takes it from my hand and crumples it right in front of me before dropping it into a nearby trash can. She turns and smiles at me over her shoulder. “No. No plans. Real world experience. Just you and me. Just Victoria and Albert. We’re winging it. Let’s start in Scotland since you already got our tickets, but from there we should see where the future takes us.”

  We’ve made it onto the plane, and I help her with her luggage, placing it into the overhead compartment. She sits and begins to fasten her belt, looking over at me with a wry grin. “What is it? Are you upset about your paper? Did I ruin your plans?”