“For assuming that Prince Charming is not exciting in the bedroom. You know what happens when you assume?”
“You hit the nail on the head?”
“Wh… What does that mean?”
“I hit the truth.”
“No more talking.” She cranks up the stereo as Black Eyed Peas play, enough so I sing along knowing I am completely right. Prince Charming most likely has a small dick. Pompous boys like him usually do and compensate by throwing money around. If she were satisfied like I could satisfy her, she wouldn’t have requested a break. If she were with me, she’d be begging for more.
Cue the cocky reminder. Your dick ain’t gonna calm down anytime soon.
We pull up to Rancho Palos Verdes. The resort is situated on a private peninsula known for its relaxing spa and resort facilities. I’d read about it online, seen the spectacular pictures, yet wasn’t keen on coming by myself.
The concierge opens our doors and guides us toward the main reception. Behind the counter, an older lady directs Gabriella to the ladies’ room, then offers me directions to the male change rooms.
I quickly dump my stuff in the locker, eager to head back to the enclosed spa area. When researching this place, I made sure that the place was intimate, but not to the point where Gabriella would feel uncomfortable.
The spa is hot, steaming into the warm summer’s air. Upon stepping in, I instantly find myself relaxing until she’s standing with a white robe on in front of me.
“Well, what are you waiting for… the apocalypse?”
With reluctance, she removes the robe, wearing only a yellow bikini. I’m certain my mouth has dropped open, drool dripping down the side as I take in her whole body.
Every single curve is gorgeous, and despite the overbearing heat, I have to tame the wild boy beneath my shorts.
She steps in, her face relaxing as her body sinks into the water. Her facial expression is priceless—content and at peace. I’m satisfied she won’t criticize me for my choice to bring her here.
“Oh, wow, this feels amazing.”
“It’s how we normally would unwind after a game. Much more enjoyable with you than a bunch of blokes, though.” She sits on the opposite side from me, keeping her distance. “This is the best way to avoid the soreness you’re going to feel tomorrow. Champagne?”
“Really, champagne helps?”
“No, but they threw it in.”
She downs a glass, closing her eyes as I sit across from her watching intently. Gabriella has an understated beauty. Perhaps it’s because she’s so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. Her skin is completely flawless, shy a few freckles scattered across her cheekbones. When she smiles, her whole face lights up, just as it is right now.
“You do this often?” she asks, closing her eyes briefly.
“I did… back home.”
“With your girlfriend, Bianca?”
I’m taken aback by the mention of her name. I don’t recall mentioning her unless Chance has said something.
“How do you know about Bianca?” I ask, with a reigning curiosity. “Let me guess, Chance?”
“Google,” she coughs, covering up her mouth.
“You googled me?”
“In my defense, I had to make sure who I was jumping into a car with before I decided whether you were a serial murderer.”
“And what did you find?”
She stares at me, softening. “The um… accident.”
It was bound to come up. I couldn’t run forever even though I tried to every moment I was awake. Perhaps, I should have been honest from the beginning, eliminated her curiosity to avoid tense moments like this. Chance warned me, but I was stubborn and refused to listen.
There will be a time and a place—now is not that time.
“I’m sorry, Oliver,” she says in a flat, monotoned voice. “It must have been awful.”
“It was.”
“You can talk about it, I mean, I’m half-naked with you in a spa,” she offers, with a friendly smile. “If that counts for anything, you can trust me.”
“I’m just not ready.”
“Okay…”
She almost looked hurt, but she doesn’t understand the pain which followed.
It held me hostage, tormenting me, watching me suffer relentlessly. This doesn’t feel like the moment to relive every sordid detail of falling off the bike and seeing death seconds away.
“How does the water feel?”
“I haven’t felt this good in a long time,” she admits, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “I don’t even remember the last time I went to one of these places. Probably with my mother and sisters, some sort of girls’ day out.”
“You have sisters?”
“Two. Both older. Clara and Antoinette.”
“You guys close?”
She laughs as if I just threw around a joke.
“By close do you mean I’m constantly ridiculed for my life choices?” She pulls out her hair, letting it fall against her wet skin. “Let’s see, why would a girl want to go to college when Daddy could marry you off to a senator? After they caused a stink about having to attend three years of college, my father almost didn’t bother with me. But no, I demanded he send me. He agreed, only so he could tell people his daughter was good enough to get into Yale.”
“Why do you let him control you? You’re what… twenty-five?”
She nods, swishing her hands against the water. “Turning twenty-six soon. I can’t explain it. My family is very influential, and my father gets his way. If I disobey him, I’ll be cut off by the family.”
“C’mon, surely it’s an empty threat. No parent would do that.”
She shakes her head, her expression downturned. A dark cloud hovers above her, shadowing the beautiful sunshine which graced me only moments ago.
“You don’t know him. He will do everything in his power to get his way. This time away from everyone, I had to literally beg for it.”
All I hear is the voice of someone scared to follow their own path. It seems unfathomable that a family could disown their own daughter over a choice to marry someone she didn’t love. Unless, of course, she does love him.
Fuck, don’t go there.
“It sounds to me like you’re scared of being alone. Leave that life, get a job, follow your passions like everyone else. Stand on your own feet. Honestly, it ain’t that hard.”
With a dismissive glance, she looks at me as if I’ve said pigs could fly. “Easy for you to say, you have a family who supports you. They moved cities to follow your dream. My dream doesn’t exist. My father will make sure of that.” Her voice wavers, and I can see she’s lost, trapped by the power of a man, who, in my opinion, doesn’t respect his own daughter.
I was too harsh, and now I feel like the biggest dick.
I move forward, bridging the gap between us, cupping her cheek in my hand. I want to reach in and tell her it isn’t hopeless, but she won’t believe me. Her eyes stare back at me with bewilderment, allowing me to touch her skin.