Fighting for Arielle (16 page)

I stop around Kaaawa.
 In this area of the island, there are mostly houses and bungalows that line the highway along the shore, and they are mostly rental cottages and homes of locals.  The clear blue water is much closer to the highway here and is contrasted with the expansive greenery of the mountains and plant life.  

We take our belongings out of the Jeep and walk onto the soft, white sand.
 This sand isn’t as rocky as the sand in Waikiki, and it’s brighter than the sand in other parts of the island.  The water here rolls in waves, but they are calmer than on the north shore.  

We are the only ones here at the moment, which is perfect
, and what I was hoping for.  Arielle kicks off her flip flops almost as soon as they touch the sand, drops her dress- revealing her swimsuit -and she immediately skips to the water, placing her feet in the receding tide.  

“This is heavenly!”
 

She holds her arms out to her sides with her palms up and looks up to the sky, taking in a deep breath.
 

My chest begins to tighten, and I know it’s a result of seeing her happy and full of joy.
 I halt in my steps to study the experience and take it all in.  Her skin glistens in the sun and she looks like a goddess in her deep purple bikini, which looks perfect against her skin.  I move my eyes up her body from her feet, to her calves, to her thighs, hips, and perfectly formed waist.  She is very nearly a perfect hourglass in her hips, waist, and chest.  Her breasts are hugged tightly and supported by two small strings and two pieces of triangle shaped material.  I think about what little fabric separates me from seeing and feeling them, and then think about how easily it could be removed.  My eyes move up her chest to her neck, which is so kissable at this moment.  She lowers her chin so I can see her face and smiles that now familiar smile as her chestnut hair blows in the wind.  I wonder why she chose to bestow her beauty and trust on me, but I don’t have to understand why.  She’s chosen to spend the day with me, and I get to have her all to myself.  

“Quit being so pokey, and come join me!
 It feels so flipping wonderful!”  

She kicks the water toward me, despite my being yards away and it not coming anywhere near me.
 

Her playfulness is infectious.  I drop our things in the sand
, without worrying where they land, take off my shirt, and slip out of my flip flops as I run toward her.  I surprise her and pick her up by her legs, bending her over my right shoulder.  Arielle squeals in delight and laughter, and I can’t help but laugh as well.

W
e spend the day playing in the water, splashing each other, and kissing in the ocean.  We hold hands as we walk along the shore, stopping occasionally to look at things like the tiny island off of the shore called Chinaman’s Hat.  

Throughout the day, we
talk with ease about our lives growing up, comparing stories of her “huge and loud, Mexican family” to mine of my two brothers and moving all over the world.  She tells me about going to college and how she could have gone to any number of universities, but chose to stay close to home.  She also talks of her now buried aspirations to be a doctor.  I learn so much about her life’s journey, and each new fact she tells me is like adding a piece to a puzzle, only far more satisfying.  I tell her about my college experience and some of the less responsible things I’ve done in my life.  She tells me that she likes hearing my stories because with each story, she says it’s as though she’s known me all along.

***

W
hen we decide that we are hungry, we pack up and head back to my house.  She showers as I check on Swanks and begin making her requested meal.  

While she is in the shower, I imagine being in it with her.  I picture her tan lines on her newly bronzed skin as I wash her back. I fantasize about her teasing me about my very white ass as she pinches my cheeks
, and I reciprocate, because it would be the polite thing to do.  I picture how her body would respond to me.  

The fact
that I currently know she desires me, and I alone turn her on, makes me want her more than ever, but I don’t want to push her into something she’s not ready for or that she might regret.  For now, I choose to respond to that lust by kissing her with a great deal of emotion and not dare bathe with her.  

From the other room, I hear her pick up my shampoo bottle and use it as a microphone as she sings
“Singin’ in the Rain” in her campy and irresistible way.

S
he comes into the kitchen as I am draining pasta shells in the sink.

“You actually made Shells and Cheese?”
 Her eyes are wide with excitement, and she’s looking over my shoulder in anticipation.  

“Yo
u said it was a requirement of Rest Day,” I tell her.  

She giggles her wonderfully girly and loveable giggle.
 “Yes, but I didn’t think you would actually listen to me and go out and acquire some.”

I turn to face her.
 “I listen to everything you say.”  

I lace the fingers of both her hands in mine and place them by our sides.
 “And if Velveeta Shells and Cheese is what floats your boat, then Shells and Cheese it is.”  

I kiss her on the forehead.
 “I just have one thing…”

“What’s that?”
 She raises an eyebrow.

“I would prefer to eat them here at the bar as opposed to in the bed.
 I’m not exactly the cleanest eater, and I don’t want to have to dry clean my comforter every week due to liquefied, processed cheese stains.  The dry cleaners might start to talk and all.”  

She rolls
her eyes with a smirk at me.  “I didn’t realize there’s a secret network of dry cleaners who compare stains and eating habits of their regular customers.”  She exhales out of her nose, laughing, and raises the other side of her mouth into a smile.  “But, fair enough.  We can eat here.”  

Arielle lets out a playful sigh as she walks over to the bar.
 

“Something you want to say, dear?”
 I emphasize the “dear.”

“No…,” she says as she passively traces circles with her index finger on the countertop.
 

She looks up at
me, grinning from ear to ear.  “I just knew you couldn’t be perfect.  I was waiting for a flaw to come to light.”  

We both break out into laughter and sit down to eat our gourmet pasta dinner.
 She’s actually quite lucky she didn’t ask for anything too difficult to make, because I would’ve let her down in that department.  My limbs warm throughout, and I cannot deny that I am completely smitten with this woman.

Arielle

M
cCrary and I begin to spend a great deal of time together.  Not only do I see him at the gym every day, we text back and forth throughout the day, which are usually messages of silly pickup lines, bad jokes, or dirty thoughts.  We also spend some evenings together, which are my favorite, but not every evening because he works late or has prior commitments.  He says that he will just leave work or break his commitments, but I always insist that he does not use me as an excuse to fall behind in work or push his friends away.  I sometimes wonder if he has anyone to confide in or if anyone knows about all of the time he spends with a married woman.  If they do know, I wonder if they tell anyone.  I imagine McCrary to be more rational than that.  Plus, if he can be trusted to keep government secrets, surely he can be trusted to keep his personal life a secret.  I still have a small worry that hangs out in my mind quite often.

Swanks and I have stayed the last few weekends at his house.
 On Fridays, I usually go home, take a nap, pack up my things and Swanks, and we head over to McCrary’s in the evening.  On Saturdays, we go on a long run or workout together, then go to a movie or to hear the orchestra, and go back to his place.  It’s hard to sleep and rest when he’s around me because I find his presence so invigorating.  I just want to stay up all night, every night, talking and kissing, but eventually my circadian rhythm kicks in, and I fall asleep.  Or maybe it’s because I feel so peaceful in McCrary’s arms.  Who’s to say, really?  We spend Sundays outside enjoying Hawaii.   We go hiking, find waterfalls, and watch the
honu
, or sea turtles, swim in the ocean.

This weekend is no different.
 Swanks and I spent our Friday night here, and we will spend tonight here as well so that we can have our weekly Day of Rest tomorrow.  McCrary and I plan to just jog around Ford Island today, instead of going on a trail or a longer run.  I think he’s had a long week, plus I wouldn’t mind seeing the buildings more closely.  

We step outside
, and there’s a small patch of rainclouds in the distance.  

“It looks like it might rain,” McCrary says to me.

“I don’t mind.  I love running in the rain.  Really, I love playing and being in the rain, in general,” I say as I double check the laces on my tennis shoes.  

I look up from my shoes to McCrary.
 “You scared you might melt?”

“Not at all.
 I was just giving you forewarning in case you care about your hair or shoes or something.”  He smiles.  “Plus, I thought you might be worried about melting since you are a little wicked.”  

He takes of runnin
g and taps me on the shoulder. “Tag!  You’re it!”

I take off running after him.
 We both know there’s no way I will catch him unless he lets me.  He is far faster than I am.  If he doesn’t feel like keeping a slower pace with me, he usually runs ahead and then comes back to meet me for a little bit.  

I sprint toward him
, and I know he’s smiling despite my being directly behind him.  His ears lift when he smiles, which gives him away every time.  

“If and when I ever catch up with you, you
’re going to pay!  I hate tag!” I shout as I’m breathing deeply and my heart beats heavily in my chest.  

He slows down enough for me to get within arm’s reach of him and then bolts away.
 

“Arrrrgghh!”
 

I keep running anyway.
 Since I’ve started running with him, I have gotten faster, and my pace has improved.  I think this is McCrary’s way to make speed work and pick-ups much more fun, because I hate them any other time.  

As predicted, the clouds begin to shower down.
 The water is warm and refreshing, which re-energizes me.  My increased energy reminds me exactly what it is I love about running in the rain.  McCrary slows his pace, and I catch up with him.  

“I’m not going to have to pick up an Arielle puddle of goo and carry it back to my house, am I?”

I continue looking ahead and between ragged breaths, I manage to say, “Ha ha.  You are so funny.  Plus, if I did melt in the rain, I would be more like silly putty, I think.”

He laughs and says, “I could’ve sworn you’d want to be some brightly colored slime or something.”

His question gives me an idea.

“I have a game for us to play when we get back.”
 

I see his eyes flash mischievou
sly.  

“Not that kind of game.
 Although...it could be adapted.”  

Feigning disappointment, he says, “Aw, man…”

“We are going to write down questions to ask one another, put them in a hat, and draw them at random.  The questions can be as simple as ‘What’s your favorite color?’ or a little more deep like ‘Do you believe in God?’  As you go throughout your day and think of things you either want to ask me, or you want me to ask you, write them down, and we will put them in the hat.”  

I marv
el at my genius for a moment, then look up to my running partner who is smoking hot with rain running down his face, making his white shirt translucent so I can see his solidly formed chest and abs.

He dips his chin to look over and down at me and says, “Sounds like a spectacular idea.”
 

After a moment of jogging in silence
, with only the rain bouncing off of the pavement as background noise, he says, “What is your favorite color, by the way?”  

“That’s simple,” I smile.
 “Green, then pink, then brown.”

“Brown?” he asks with a cute wrinkle in his nose.

“Yup yup yup.  I don’t know why, but I am drawn to brown.  It’s the perfect neutral tone.”  

Jogging on, I ask, “Yours?”

He pulls back one side of his mouth and presses his lips together. “I don’t really have a favorite, but if I had to choose, I would say grey.  Or blue.”

I could’ve guessed.
 I want to meet a guy who doesn’t say some bland color is their favorite.  

“I vote for blue.”

“Blue it is.”  

McCrary looks over
at me and says, “You’ve had an easy opportunity to tag me, but you haven’t.  Did you forget?”

“No way, Jose.”

I turn my body so I am perpendicular to his and begin to gallop sideways.  

“I’m just waiting until the right time.”
 

We continue forward
, and I see some orange caution cones on the road near some buildings.  Excited, I run over and pick one up.

“Since I am ‘it’ and could’ve tagged you but didn’t, you must have a duel with me.”
 

I hold the narrow end of the cone in my hand and push the base out toward McCrary.
 

“
En guarde
!” I say in my best British noble voice.

“I don’t know how you come up with this stuff, but I don’t back down from a challenge.”

McCrary and I duel with the cones.  It’s hard to say who wins because they bend rather easily, although I like to think I won.  We put the base of the cones on our heads as if we are unicorns and joust with them.  McCrary definitely has the advantage in jousting since he’s taller.  Plus, he sticks his arm or leg out when I pass him, in hopes of tripping me.  I tell McCrary I’ve always wanted to play leapfrog with caution cones.  There are about eight cones in total, so we line them up and play leap frog.  We leap over one another for good measure.  

Completely and utterly drenched
, and our stomachs hurting from laughter, we resume our jog back to his house.

We are close to McCrary’s house and jogging along the island’s shore.
 I stop to take in the sights, sounds, and smell of the rain in the grass, trees, and ocean.  

“I love watching rain drops bounce off of the water in the harbor.”
 

“Let’s watch them, then.”
 

McCrary moves behind me and places his arms around my waist.
 I feel his warm, yet very soaked, torso against my back.  I lace my fingers through his, which are resting on my lower abdomen, and we do exactly that.  

The raindrops hit the water’s surface and create small puddles or circles of waves, then bounce up and hit again.
 It’s a spectacular sight to behold.  

McCrary lowers his
head next to mine.  “I love how you make me stop and appreciate things.  You literally stop to smell the roses.  I couldn’t quit you if I tried.”

His words are so simple, but speak volumes.
 
I couldn’t quit you if I tried.
 I’ve never felt so special and desired.  McCrary begins kissing my neck, moving up to my jaw and ear, then back down to my shoulder.  

“I hope you don’t even try because I can’t quit you either, and that scares me.”
 I say, my bottom lip quivering.  

“McCrary, I-
”

“What are you afraid of?” he asks, still kissing me lightly.

“I'm afraid that if I take the leap, you will watch me fall and then tell me how stupid I was for leaping in the first place.  Against all of my rationale and efforts otherwise, I have fallen for you.  You have my heart, which means you control it.  My poor heart has been just pieced back together with duct tape around it.  I'm afraid if I allow you to keep it, that when you return it, because I am certain you will, it will be beyond repair.”  

I turn my body into his
and worry he’s going to tell me I’m right.
 

He looks down at me, water rolling off the ends of his hair.
 “If you give me your heart, I will gently remove the duct tape as you let go of your fears and painstakingly sew it together piece by piece, stitch by stitch.  I will fill any gaps or missing pieces with my love and ensure that it will be nothing but whole and delicate and beautiful ever again, just like you.  I believe in you.  I believe in us.  If you'll let me, I will show you how far a little faith can take you.”  

His words make
my legs feel as if I tried to stand on my own right now I would just melt into the ground, send my heart racing, make my stomach drop, and send electrical pulses coursing throughout my appendages.  I’m not sure that I am what he needs or even right for him, but I do know he is what I need.  I need him like I need air in my lungs and blood in my veins.  The same sense of urgency I felt the first time I told him to kiss me returns, but this time, I need more than just his kisses.  I need all of him.  

I kiss his mouth and whisper in his ear, “When we get back, we’re going to shower
, and then you’re going to make love to me like you never made love to anyone before.  But first, we have to get there.”  

I feel his erection through his shorts and his breathing deepens.
 

“And McCrary…”

He takes a deep swallow and whispers out, “Yes?”

I brush my lips against his earlobe and feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
 

“Tag!
 “You’re it!”  

I take off running.
 

From behind me, I hear him yell, “You’re evil!”

I
am panting and gasping for air by the time I make it to McCrary’s house.  It was only about 100 yards away, but I feel like I just ran a mile.  He is still jogging this way.  I clearly stunned him quite a bit, because he easily could’ve sprinted and beaten me here.  I’m curious what’s going through his mind.  I made my intentions quite clear before throwing him for a loop and taking off, and I hope he’s not trying to think of ways to back out.  I am ready, and I want him more than anything else in the world.  Prior to today, I was tied to him in an inexplicable way, but now I know he is exactly what I want.  In fact, I feel a little ashamed that life could be so joyous, and I wasted so much time not experiencing it fully.  Regardless of my past decisions, mistakes, and relationships, I am here and McCrary is now.  I choose to remain in the here and now.

McCrary jogs up
, half panting and half laughing.  “You are positively evil, you know that?”

I look around, mockingly.
 “Are you talking to me?  There’s no one else around here, but surely you’re not describing me.”  

He walks toward me, causing my cheeks t
o warm with his intense gaze.  “Yes, you.  You know exactly what you are.  You’re a wicked enchantress or something.”

I drop my mouth open in playful horror, “Surely you jest!
 I am nothing but goodness and sunshine and light.”  

McCrary takes my ponytail, wraps it around his right hand
, and pulls it in a way that is firm enough for me to feel it and cause me to lift my chin toward him, but gentle enough that it is not painful.  I am immediately turned on by the tug on my hair, and I am staring into his eyes that tell me he’s enjoying this just as much.  I wonder if he is going to try to get me back for my last stunt.  I can feel his breath as he continues to breathe out of his mouth from the run.  His breath is sweet and warm; it just gives me one more thing to ache over when we aren’t together.  He takes his left hand, puts it behind my neck, and stares at me as if he’s listening to some inner dialog in his head.  My heart is racing wildly, and I am breathless.  I try to think of something to say, but keep coming up empty.