I grit my teeth, and I try to move past Derek. He quickly blocks my way, his long arms spread out. Bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, Derek's striking features captivate me, and I'm acutely aware of our contrasting heights as he towers over me. My pulse races. It's been so long since we were this close.
"You remember you still owe me, right?"
I suck my teeth. "What about it?"
"Then you can pay me by staying. Stay, Sam. Come on. Please?"
"I believe I've paid my dues," I hiss. "Why are you really here anyway?"
Without a word, he undresses, and I stumble a step back. "What are you doing?"
"I said I'm going to join you, right?" he replies. "Oh wait, I've thought of something better. Wait here."
He puts his flip flops on. "Wait for me. Don't move."
"What? I won't—"
But Derek is already sprinting. "Just a sec!"
"Where are you going?!" I call out in confusion.
I have the chance to leave. I could've walked away that instant and let Derek do whatever the hell he wants to do. But like the stupid and obedient girl that I usually am when it comes to him, I stay.
I dig my fingers into my scalp, berating myself for my idiocy.
A few minutes later, Derek comes back with two wine glasses, a bottle of red wine, and a blanket.
He spreads the blanket on the sand.
"Where did you get those?"
"From the staff." He sinks into the blanket, stretches his legs, then looks up at me. "Come here."
I sigh, reluctantly sitting next to him, ensuring that the distance is big enough to prevent any physical contact. The memory of the night at the oval flashbacks in my mind, tugging my heartstrings.
"You have a thing for blankets," I comment.
He pours wine into one glass and passes it to me. I take a sip, my gaze fixed on the expanse of the sea.
"We're still not done, Derek. I'm still angry."
"I'd rather we aren't done." Then he says out of nowhere, "I know this is off-topic, but you look good."
I blush and punch him lightly on the shoulder. It sends chills down my spine. Oops, physical contact. Wrong move!
"Why do you always throw compliments like that?"
"What? It's true," he says, eyebrows furrowed. "Is it inappropriate?"
"Well... No," I reply. "I'm... Not used to it."
"What? Not used to people telling you you're pretty?"
I turn away. "Shut up. It's... It's nothing you haven't seen."
"Hard to say. I haven't seen yours."
My breathing rushes. "Derek, I swear to God—"
He chuckles, amused at himself. "I'm kidding, alright?"
"You're such a womanizer."
"That's untrue," he says, sipping his wine. "If you haven't noticed, I've stopped sleeping around ever since I stayed with you."
"What about Sara?"
"What about her?" he counters.
I squint my eyes at him. "You've been flirting with her since you arrived."
He snickers. "She's the one flirting with me, okay?"
"You're enjoying it," I say, finishing the remaining wine on my glass.
"What? You want me to stop talking to her?" he asks. "Just tell me to stop, and I'll do it."
"Do what you want."
He grins, also finishing his glass of wine. "I told you I want to make it up to you, remember? So, what do you want?"
I nibble my tongue, the blood in my veins rushing.
I want you to be honest with me. To take responsibility for my feelings by not running away.
"You know how, Derek," I say, voice barely audible.
There is a momentary pause. He offers a weak smile before replying, "Well, since we're already here, why don't we go for a swim?"
Derek stands up, then he clutches my hand to help me rise to my feet. "Come."
Derek runs to the water, and I watch him descend slowly, the water rippling around him.
Alright, fine. I'm here to swim anyway.
I discard my kimono, then I run, arms wide, and jump into the water. It's as cold as I've anticipated, my body freezing immediately, so I stay submerged for a few seconds until the sensation subsides.
I float in the water, the moon gleaming like a silver bullet, and I stare at it for a minute as I feel my entire body succumbing to the tranquility of the sea.
I do a few strokes back to the shore and find Derek standing still, the water below his waist, arms hanging on the sides.
Derek's hair is combed back, a few strands hanging above his eyebrows. His gaze, tender yet strong, is pinned on me as I saunter to him.
"Why are you just standing there?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.
A gust of wind sweeps by as I stop in front of him, wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the chill. "Derek?"
Derek doesn't say anything.
Instead, he raises his right hand and motions to touch me. My lips part, and the clocks stop ticking the moment his fingers land on my back, sliding them gently down my waist. They're warm—his palm on my skin. And then he draws me closer, his other hand caressing my hair. Instinctively, my hands find their way to his shoulders for support, our eyes locked in a magnetic gaze.
"Is it cold?" His voice is rough. And needing.
"It isn't now," I murmur, though I can hear my heart pounding.
The rage, the hurt, endure within me. I want to shout at him and shove him away. But I can't bring myself to do it. Not with him this close to me.
Not when he stares at me like this.
"Sam..." he mutters, his left hand now grazing my cheek.
"Hmm?"
"Do you know how beautiful you are?"
I blink twice. I try to look away, but Derek cups my chin. "Derek—"
"Can I kiss you?"
He moves closer to me, our lips merely an inch away. I stop breathing, his orbs searching deep into my soul making me gasp.
"Say yes."
I exhale, then with my voice shaking, I reply, "Yes."
He pulls me closer, our lips finally meeting in a collision of pent-up emotions, and my eyes widen in surprise.
Derek Crisanto is kissing me. This is really happening. I am kissing my brother's best friend.
He halts, jerking his head back, then he breathes into my ear, "Close your eyes."
Then Derek kisses me again. I obey him and shut my eyes, my claws digging deeper into his bare shoulders.
His tongue gradually sneaks its way into my mouth, and I allow it, my heart ramming against my chest. I puff for air, and he lets me, holding my gaze, the hunger so evident heat rises along my thighs. With a gesture, he seeks another kiss, his fingers tracing patterns along the small of my back.
After what seems like a long, long time, Derek gently recoils, and in a flash, I see a glimmer of anxiety and confusion in his eyes.
What just happened assails me.
I back off, feeling a little disoriented. "What do you want... Derek?"
"Sam, let's talk, okay?" he pleads. "I want to explain everything to you. Just give me a chance."
Derek reaches out, his fingers grazing my elbows. He slowly tugs me and I raise my head to meet his eyes, and once more, I completely lose all the strength I have.
"You might not believe me, and I will completely understand if you don't," he mutters. "But I want you to know I didn't do it because I wanted to make a fool out of you. That I didn't leave for six years because I only thought about myself."
He stops, gasping for breath. "Sam, I wanted you. I wanted to hold on to you."
"Then why didn't you? Why didn't you just tell me the truth?"
"I was afraid."
My throat thickens. "What were you afraid of?"
He threads his hand over his hair, and with a rueful look, he says, "Everything."
"Exactly, Derek," I reply, shaking my head. "All I can think of is that you weren't that brave to hold on to me."
The disappointment, the hurt, creeps into my voice. "Because if you wanted me enough... You wouldn't have let me go."
Derek tries to touch me again.
"No, don't..." I croak, eyes brimming with tears.
"I'm sorry."
"I just... I can't understand why you thought you could enter my life and then leave me to pick up the pieces. It's not just when we were young, Derek," I lament, my fists clenched. "You know that I have feelings for you now. But you left me. Again."
I begin to sob. Oh no. I don't want to cry in front of him. "I have to go."
"Sam, no, please--"
I get out of the water, slip my kimono and my flip-flops on, then proceed to the hotel without looking back.
Derek left after trying to control my life. He just left.
Forgiving Derek without him understanding the consequences of his mistakes isn't fair. All those years I thought I wasn't good enough, so I tried hard to be better. Yet, in the realm of dating, I seemed to only encounter disappointment, each blind date failing miserably, then I wallowed in self-pity.
Fine. Maybe I shouldn't blame Derek for everything. Maybe the recent men I had blind dates with were only too insecure about their masculinity or whatever archaic views they had. That saves Derek from the blame.
But he betrayed me.
I retire to our room and find Sara sound asleep, snoring. I'm glad she's already away from the real world. I don't think I can deal with her mouth right now.
I tiptoe to the bathroom and take a quick shower to rinse myself off the sea water.
Still debating on what I should do, and what's right or wrong, I hide under my sheets.
The kiss I shared with Derek comes to mind. It wasn't my first, but it was the best kiss I've ever had with anyone. Probably because it's Derek, and my feelings for him are strong and real. I tap a finger on my lips, and I involuntarily replay what happened in my head.
The warmth of his touch lingers on my back, and my belly flutters.
I want to disregard the excitement I'm having since they will inevitably cloud my judgment. However, my heart thumps so loudly as I toss and turn, trying to repress my squeals.
It's okay to be happy, right? To be happy knowing that Derek also has feelings for me. But will he just get away with it? What should I do? Do I forget everything because I love him?
My brain cells wrestle with conflicting thoughts throughout the night, and I eventually succumb to exhaustion, unable to recall the exact moment sleep finally claims me.
******
The next morning, everyone is busy with the wedding preparations. Sara is freaking out for some reason, and I hear her mumbling to herself constantly. She's more stressed out than Candice. It's insanely funny, though I conceal my snorts. After pacing anxiously for what feels like hours, Sara finally excuses herself to indulge in some bridal pampering. Good riddance. Meanwhile, I focus on perfecting my hair and makeup within the confines of the room.
Oh. Right. Sara is the maid of honor, and Derek is the best man. I inwardly wince as I picture the two of them walking along the aisle.
I heave a sigh. I need to calm down. Derek said she isn't his type. He likes me now, even if he hasn't said it out loud. I know that... Or do I?
I shake my head. I have no time for this. After all, I need to conceal the evidence of last night's lack of sleep—the dreaded dark circles!
I'm ready by 3 PM, my straight hair permed at the tips. I check myself out in the mirror, and I feel genuinely impressed at how I look. The mustard yellow dress is snug on my waist, emphasizing my curve, the color surprisingly matching my skin tone.
Somebody knocks. I hurriedly open the door. "Oh, Mom, come in!"
"You look gorgeous, dear," she blurts out excitedly.
We sit on the couch near the television. "Thanks, Mom. Have you seen Patrick?"
She nods. "Yes. He's talking to your father."
"Oh, he's here already?" I haven't seen my father for a while, too. I wince at myself. I'm such a bad daughter.
"Yes, with Sherry."
Sherry is my father's new partner. Believe it or not, she and my Mom get along. I'm quite lucky to not be trapped in a toxic environment. It's different for some people.
Like Derek.
"Sam?"
"Sorry, Mom. Did you say something?"
"How are you?"
"Oh, umm, well, I'm fine. I'm excited to end the Main View Hotel project so I can—"
Mom clutches both my hands and with a sad smile, she presses, "Sam, you can be honest with me."
"What do you mean?"
"The last time we talked, you were preparing for blind dates. What happened?"
My lips form a thin line as I recall the disappointing experiences. "They didn't work out."
Her shoulders sag, and I force a cheerful grin to alleviate her worry. "But it's okay, Mom. I'm fine. Today is all about Patrick."
"What about Derek?"
I bat my false lashes. "Uh, what about him?"
"I've always thought he's charming. Do you still have a crush on him?"
"Mom!" I slap a hand over my mouth, blushing.
She chuckles. "Honey, nothing gets past me."
"Fine, I did... But it's a little complicated now."
"That's why I'm asking how you are," she utters. "You didn't look fine at dinner. Is it that Sara?"
I scoff. "No way."
"Then what is it?"
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. "It's... It's a long story. I'm trying to figure it out, Mom."
Thank God, she doesn't press further. One more and I'll probably break. Instead, she leans and gives me an embrace I don't realize I need.
"Just remember, Sam. Don't give up on love."
—
A/N:
We finally got some action! Haha. Sorry for the wait! I'm still not used to writing kissing scenes!
As usual, vote and comment if you can! :)