Loreley Island Ch. 02

Chapter 2: Horizon

Clay coughed up seawater. His lungs felt heavy. He was on his back on the beach. Hildy was kneeling beside him. Clay couldn't tell whether it was concern or annoyance furrowing Hildy's otherwise smooth, symmetrical features.

"Hildy..." Clay's voice was brittle.

"Well, you don't have amnesia. Guess that's a good thing," said Hildy with typical sarcasm.

Clay pushed himself up on his elbows. "Where's Stella?" he asked, suddenly alarmed.

"Fuck you!" It was Gwen. She stomped to his side, flinging sand with her sandals. "So you were down here with her."

Clay pulled himself to his feet. "Stella!" he called out.

Hildy rose and patted Clay's shoulder. "You can stop. She left. I saw her go."

"But she was here." Clay watched dark waves lap against the moonlit shore. "We were swimming..."

"Swimming naked, naturally." snipped Gwen.

Clay became conscious of his lack of clothing. "You sure you saw her leave?" he asked Hildy, while walking to his clothes.

"Yeah." Hildy brushed sand off his linen pants and moved with Clay to the platform and the adirondack chairs. "The guy she came with was asking around for her and then I saw them go. Her hair might have been wet. Not sure though, I wasn't that close when they left, and she didn't say goodbye."

Clay nodded slowly. "Okay." He pulled on his underwear.

"You're not even going to say sorry?" Gwen's voice was tight. "Do you give a shit about me?" Her words were cracking and tears were welling in her eyes. "Stella fucking let you drown! Hildy just pumped the ocean out of you!"

Clay briefly turned to Gwen. "I'm not sorry." He looked at Hildy again. "I need Stella's number."

"I fucking hate you Clay!" Gwen clomped off, dramatically smacking the wooden steps that led back to the house with the soles of her sandals.

"I can't give you Stella's number," said Hildy flatly, "and you're a fucking jerk."

"Only to Gwen." Clay buttoned his shirt.

"She doesn't deserve it."

"I know. She deserves better. She's all yours." Clay looked at his phone. "Now, I have to call Stella."

"You can't call her."

Clay glared at Hildy. "What the fuck? You know her. What's her fucking number? Don't you understand? I have to find out what happened."

"She doesn't have a phone."

"What?"

"They don't use phones in her family." A self-satisfied grin dimpled Hildy's cheeks.

"Then how the hell are you two hanging out in the city?" Clay was close to shouting. "How did she know about tonight?" Was Hildy his best friend or some total asshole who'd been secretly screwing him behind his back? "Are you gunning for her? Is that what's going on?"

"I'm not after her, Clay. We're just friends. I ran into her at Grace Cove." Hildy moved to the stairs. "Let's go."

"I'll just have to drive out to the Castle," said Clay on the steps.

"Don't go tonight."

≈≈≈

Clay lay on his side in bed. Stella wouldn't let him sleep. Had she left him to drown? Gwen could not be right. Stella may have been knocked out too, and carried ashore. She might think he abandoned her. It didn't make sense she would leave him comatose on the beach. Not after that kiss, with the waves surging, pushing them together...

He kept reliving each moment; different details flashed or faded as he reran what he remembered over and over. It was making him hard. Really fucking hard. He rolled onto his back and gripped his hardness. What would it feel like inside her? What would her mouth feel like sucking him? Her tongue on his tip... Kissing her was the most intense thing he'd ever experienced. Actually fucking would be...

"Fuck," he murmured. He flipped onto his stomach and thrust against the mattress. "God I want you Stella."

This was crazy. He clasped a pillow to his chest. Was he twenty or twelve? "I'll go over there. In the morning..." He reached for his phone on the nightstand. It was five a.m.. He wouldn't have to wait that long. He'd go at ten, maybe ten thirty. It was going to be cool.

Clay imagined the two of them talking casually. They'd clear things up; then he'd ask her to go sailing. She must love to sail. The Castle had a long, beautiful dock that stretched out into Cormorant Cove. He'd seen an amazing all wood and canvas forty-foot sloop moored there a week ago. It looked like it was from the nineteenth century. "My boat or yours?" A smile spread across his face.

He pictured her hair rippling in the breeze from sea. He hoped she'd wear it loose, not pulled back in a snobby ponytail like Gwen. Her red tresses would look fiery in the sunlight. He'd have a bottle of white wine on ice and they'd toast to the sunset. The wind would calm leaving them floating in the middle of the Atlantic without another soul on the horizon. Then he'd kiss her, and while they were kissing she would touch him...

"Okay, sleep is not an option," he said, feeling himself hardening again. He pushed back the sheets and sat up. He needed a drink.

His phone lit up. Gwen was calling. He was happy he'd turned off the ringer. Leaving the phone on his bed he pulled on underwear and strolled the walkway to his parents' sitting room. His parents weren't around. His father was in Dubai and his mother was visiting his aunt in Monterey, California; both of them were thousands of miles away from the island, and from each other. Clay was certain he'd be hearing the word 'divorce' pretty soon.

He selected a single malt scotch from the bar cabinet by the daybed and poured two fingers worth into a crystal tumbler. He paused holding the bottle and glanced at his reflection in the mirror behind the shelves. The light gray burst in the center of his brown rimmed irises was barely visible; his pupils were seriously dilated. The white parts were filled with tiny red threads. He could use some beauty sleep. Too bad he felt wired.

He opened the doors to the balcony and walked outside. Maybe he should have put on a shirt. It was chilly. But the sun was rising. Swaths of scarlet streaked the purple sky. Far in the distance to the north he saw the outlines of the merlons that crowned the Castle. He sipped the scotch and enjoyed the warmth it fired within him.

He poured another three fingers and returned to his bedroom. He saw Gwen had called multiple times and left three texts. "Don't ever even THINK about me again!!" was the first, "I hope you BOTH DROWN!!!" came next, and the latest read, "FUUUCCKK YOUUU!!!! ASSSHOLE!!!"

Clay went to the voice mails and deleted them. There was no way he wanted to hear those. He did feel bad, he realized while he adjusted the pillow beneath his head. Gwen had always got everything she wanted. It must be difficult to lose out, especially to someone she'd branded a reject and a freak. Gorgeous freak...

≈≈≈

Bright sunlight poured through the windows that looked west at Newport Sound. Clay checked the time on his phone. It was nine. He was on the walkway halfway to the bathroom when he paused to look down at the tall glass panels on either side of the front door on the first floor. Someone was outside. She didn't ring the bell or knock. She just stood by the glass and smiled at him, her red hair swaying around her nearly bare shoulders.

"Stella," he said.