Me: Listen, things were weird today... I’m not sure... I don’t think this thing is working out... We’ll talk.

  I end the call, confused, and suddenly exhausted.

  The phone rings and my heart jumps.

  “Liv??”

  “Hey. Where were you? I stopped by earlier. I thought you were home.”

  “I left work late. I just got in.”

  “You sound pretty beat up.”

  “It was a shitty day. My mom showed up...”

  “Oh...”

  “Yep... My family found out about Jagger, and they’re all fired up and collectively on my back.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah... Well, it was supposed to happen. One way or another, sooner or later. It’s just that this was not a good week overall. Working with Jonas has its good moments, but it’s harder than I thought.”

  “Where’s Jagger? I haven’t seen him lately.”

  “He’s in Miami... clubbing, I mean, DJ-ing,” I say, frustrated, a bit angry.

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah, exactly. We talked on the phone a couple of times and then, he called this afternoon, right after I had lunch with mom, and I was in Jonas’ office, and he heard him making dinner plans...”

  “Dinner plans?”

  “He wanted to order food so we could work late, and finish the project we were working on.”

  “Oh...”

  “And then, as Jagger was talking to me I heard a woman in the background. It turned out they were at the beach. Him, his best friend and this woman. He didn’t even tell me his friend was traveling with him too. ”

  “Maybe she was his friend’s squeeze.”

  “Yeah... Or maybe she was with both of them.”

  “Oh... They do that?”

  “They’ve done it before.”

  “It may not mean anything. Have you talked to him?”

  “No. I left him a message. Honestly, I don’t see how this can work.”

  “Don’t say that... You barely started to see each other. You say it now because your mom was pounding your brain and he’s away from you, and you’re probably tired...”

  “Well, that’s true, but it’s not only the things my mom has said. Today I got a glimpse of our life with people and distance between us. If he starts working and travels more often, he’ll be away a lot and I’m going to be stuck in my fucking cubicle, working twelve hours a day, calling myself lucky, if I get a Friday off attached to a Monday off and I can put together a longer weekend so I can eat half of that time on planes and go wherever he is.”

  I pull a couple of tissue papers from a box and blow my nose. She stays quiet.

  “There must be a way to make it work,” she says after a moment of silence.“You’re overthinking the whole thing, Violet. You don’t know what happens when he’s away, if anything. You just feed the monster that’s eating at your heart. People make it work all the time. You learn to trust, and try not to fall off the wagon.”

  “How can I trust him when he forgot to mention he was taking his best friend with him?”

  “Maybe.... Maybe he was afraid that telling you would’ve made things worse...”

  “Yeah, maybe... Or maybe, he just wanted to have a good time.”

  “Listen, had I had to choose between working in a cubicle in the middle of the summer or going to the ocean and having my best friend with me, I’d do the same. And you’d probably do that as well, and it wouldn’t mean a damn thing. Chances are as much as you didn’t enjoy your time away from him, he probably didn’t enjoy it either, and if you think that it would make you feel better knowing his time away from you sucked as much as yours without him, go there and find out if life in Miami is in fact as glamorous and filled with temptations as you think it is...”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know... Hop on a flight tomorrow morning and pay them a visit... There is a chance, a slight chance perhaps, that you’d walk into a disaster, but if that’s the case, the truth is preferable to the guesswork you’re doing right now. It’s not for everybody, but I’d take the truth any day instead of living a lie...”

  “I’ll have to think about it...”

  “Don’t chicken out, Violet. This is not a two-way thing. If you want him, you must know the truth, whatever it is. If not, then file it under the friends with benefits column, and don’t give a damn how he spends his time when he’s away from you.”

  “I guess you have a point, but it’s not only that... I think he’s a bit turned off by the fact that Jonas is hovering over me lately.”

  “He can’t possibly believe Jonas has something for you...”

  “Well, he does, and as it turns out, he was right. Jonas asked me out this evening.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Her laughter fills the air.

  “What is so funny?” I ask, cracking a smile.

  “How’d you manage to score the two most handsome men in the firm?”

  “I didn’t score anything,” I say, my voice lighter. “I kinda fell into it.”

  Her melodious voice morphs into a heartfelt laughter.

  “You can say that twice.”

  “And it’s not even that... Jonas is a great catch, I’m not gonna deny it, but his sudden interest in me is fueled by the fact that there’s competition, whether he admits it to himself or not.”

  She giggles again.

  “What was that saying again? Competition is the mother or invention?”

  I burst into laughter.

  “There’s no such thing, Liv.”

  “Hey, two is better that none.”

  “That’s true, but it’s not better than the one.”

  “It depends,” she says, chuckling. “On a serious note, I think you should talk to Jagger. Not now... I mean not on the phone. Talk to him face to face, and clarify this shit.”

  “I guess.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you go.”

  I place the phone on the table, tuck a pillow on the sofa, and slip under a blanket. Silence flows into the room.

  Within minutes, I feel lonelier than ever.

  12

  JAGGER

  Violet: Listen, things were weird today... I’m not sure... I don’t think this thing is working out... We’ll talk.

  I listen to her message a second time and a third time... I listen to the inflection in her voice, and try to get my mind around it. She sounds sad and distant, wounded as if she fought and lost a battle.

  The thing is... There was no battle.

  It’s not something she said easily. I can tell. And yet she seemingly made up her mind, and even if it hurts her, and me, and it doesn’t make any sense, she’s willing to justify it, and give up on me.

  I’m such an idiot.

  How could I possibly think I could make her change her mind? How could I possibly expect her to give up on everything to journey on the wild side, to live a life with ups and downs, light and shadow, uncomfortable truths and safeguarded secrets? A life with twists, and so, so many unchartered emotions.

  How could I be that stupid?

  I hoped that maybe, just maybe her heart was untouched, pristine in many respects, and strong, and that she’d give it a try, but I was so wrong.

  Or maybe she was.

  Perhaps she only thought she was craving the freedom. The real freedom. Maybe it was a passing moment. Maybe it wasn’t what she thought it would be, and now she’s back walking the straight line.

  Perhaps, our timing was wrong.

  It’s too late for her, the same way everything happens too soon for me. I’m sure she’d feel safer with a man like Jonas, or another Brad. She’s used to that and comfortable with it.

  Why would she give up on that to live on the edge with someone like me? Like an outcast. Reinventing herself, away from her people. Criticized for her decisions.

  She thought she wanted to experience life. Raw, impetuous, stripped off fear. Yeah, right... The reality is, most people can’t.

  I call her back, but I press the end button before her phone has the chance to ring.

  There’s no point in calling her.

  She made damn sure I wasn’t available when she called, so she didn’t have to talk to me. Way to fucking go, Violet. I toss the phone on the table and take a long breath.

  The night is hot and quiet, the ocean restless in the distance. The air smells like algae baked in the sun. A gentle breeze sweeps my bare chest. I shrug out of my shirt, crumple it, and throw it on the lounge chair sitting next to me.

  It’s four A.M. What can I tell her? Why the fuck had she called me anyway? So I could beg her to change her mind? Give her arguments so she could shoot them down? It’s fucking useless. A growl rolls off my lips, my fist crashing into a nearby table.

  I curl my fingers around the bottle, leap up to my feet, walk across the terrace and back to the room.

  “Hey, there you are...”

  Shirtless, wearing only a pair of ripped jeans, his hair tousled, his eyes glistening as if he runs a fever, Braxton fills the doorway. I stop in front of him, and averting my eyes, I nudge him to move out of my way.

  He doesn’t move an inch.

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  “Out,” I mumble, staring at his chest.

  “There are two women in my bed. Why the hell would you want to go out?”

  “I don’t want women,” I growl, pushing him aside.

  “Hey!!”

  He clutches my arm and pulls me back on the terrace, his hand curling around my neck. In one motion, he throws my back against the wall.

  “What the hell happened?”

  He looks down at the bottle.

  “Nothing happened.”

  “You’ve been drinking.”

  “So have you,” I snap.

  “I’m not the one who’s working.”

  “What the fuck do you care?”I shout, yanking my arm out of his lock and giving him a push.

  “I fucking do... just tell me what happened,” he says, regaining his balance and shoving me against the wall, his hand gripping my shoulder, his eyes boring into mine.

  His skin is hot and smells like the ocean. A sweet scent of mint and scotch rolls off his lips. My chest heats up from his.

  I look away.

  “It’s Violet...” I say, my voice sounding hoarse and broken.

  “What is it, Jagger?” he asks with a calmer, gentler voice, his eyes softening.

  I scoop my phone out of my pocket and toss it in his hand.

  “She left me a message... Like a fucking coward... She left me a fucking message.”

  He lets go of me and listens to her words, his eyes darkening.

  “Shit,” he mumbles, and then listens to it again.

  “She heard Amber’s voice at the beach...”

  “Fuck.”

  “And she wasn’t alone when I called. She was with her boss.”

  “So what? It’s her fucking boss.”

  I swipe my fingers through my hair, puffing.

  “He’s also a multimillionaire who looks like an Italian model... and wants to fuck her... Actually, probably more than that.”

  “You can’t stop shit like that, Jagger.”

  “I know... but... she’s not like that. She’s different when she’s with me...”

  I stop and clench my teeth. That’s the most moronic statement I have ever heard. But I can’t help it.

  I look down, my hands curling into fists. I feel like punching the fucking air and growling at the moon. It’s all a room of mirrors. One moment you see everything, crisp and clear, and then you don’t, and everything you thought is real, turns out to be an illusion.

  “A week ago she felt like fucking heaven,” I say, my voice almost breaking, with anger and frustration.

  “I’m sorry, man,” he says, snaking his arm around my shoulders and giving me a hug.

  His arms flex around me, his hand tangling in my hair.

  “Don’t lose fucking hope, Jagger. If she’s meant to be yours, she’ll be yours. You’ll figure shit out. You always do.”

  His breath fans over my face, his fingers sliding down my neck, his bare chest pressed against mine, his body so fucking hot, my skin catches on fire. He pulls back a little, his hand still cuffed on the back of my neck.

  We lock eyes and my heart jolts in my chest.

  “She’ll be yours. I know it… I feel it. I knew it the first time I saw her... the way she looked at you... You have to fight for her too...” he says softly, and sadly, so sadly that his emotion messes with my heart.

  A weight presses on my chest, and then it dawns on me.

  “You don’t want that...” I say, my voice quiet, filled with revelation.

  His eyes stay on me, heavy with sorrow, giving me the real answer, and then his lips move.

  “I do... Yes, I do,” he says with more conviction, my eyes distracted by his lips.

  He curves them into a smile, and I flick my gaze up.

  “Don’t lie to me, Braxton.”

  “I’m not, man... I really want you to be happy,” he says, and I know he speaks the truth, but that’s not the whole truth.

  His hand slides in the back of my hair while the other hand goes down my body, and my skin begins to tingle, a wave of heat surging through me. His eyes drift down as well, following his hand, but he looks lower, right below my waist.

  More heat falls through me. The breeze blows just in time to cool me off. I think. My chest expands with a deep breath, and he drags his eyes up, stalling on my pecs, his fingers splaying on my abs, and then slipping lower...

  He raises his eyes, an ocean of emotions churning in his gaze, his fingers almost touching my fly.

  He’s so close, I feel his breath on my lips. He tilts his head, and I part my lips, my blood pumping in my jeans.

  “Are you coming back?” a woman’s voice tears into the air.

  We pull back.

  The two women, Amber and Elsa, the busty brunette, stick their heads out, looking at Braxton first, and then they spot me. They take us in, their eyes darting back and forth.

  “Or... do you want to stay with him?” Elsa asks Braxton, giving me a suggestive look as Amber stares at me, over her shoulder.

  “He’s so fucking hot,” she says, looking at me while talking to Braxton. “I bet he made you hard,” she says to Braxton again, her eyes roaming down my body.

  She cups his groin, and I can see how full he is, against her hand. She gives me a languorous look.

  “I bet, you’re hard too,” she says to me and reaches for my cock. I cuff her wrist and motion to Braxton.

  “Okay, ladies. Time’s up,” he says, nudging Elsa away from me, and both inside the room.

  A half hour later the front door opens and closes as they walk out of my place. I go inside and crash on the bed.

  Braxton

  I walk back to the villa, swipe the key card, and open the door quietly. The lights are turned off, moonlight flowing through the open windows. The curtains flutter in the breeze.

  “Jagger?” I call him softly.

  My eyes fall to his bed. His jeans are thrown to the side. The bed is empty. I jog upstairs and push the door to my room open.

  It's empty.

  “Jagger?” I call him louder, my voice greeted by silence.

  Frantic, I look around, searching for his phone, wallet, and the bottle he was drinking from. They’re all here. The bottle is empty, lying on the floor.

  What the fuck, Jagger?

  I dash to the closet, slip out of my jeans, pull on a pair of swim trunks, and walk out through the terrace door.

  It takes minutes before I feel the hot sand under my feet. The morning is barely whispering at the horizon, the ocean dark, the beach empty.

  I jog to the water, my eyes scanning the restless surface. Waves break around my feet. I curl my hands around my mouth and shout at the top of my lungs.

  “Jagger??”

  The ocean gets back at me with a sound of churning water, throwing shells and algae at my legs. I can’t see a fucking thing.

  Crests unfurl not far from me, smashing into me. A piece of fabric wraps around my knees. I snatch it out of the water, my blood draining out of me as I recognize his swim shorts.

  Cold shivers shake my body, my heart halting, dead in my chest. I call him, again and again, until I realize that my voice is breaking, and I feel the taste of my tears on my lips.

  Fucking Jagger!

  Desperation rams through my blood.

  I crush a curse, toss his shorts on the beach and run back to the water. Shortly, I dive under the surface and swim far from the shoreline, looking for him, calling his name, growling madly. I can’t fucking believe this. Guilt claws at my chest.

  I was out only thirty minutes. Not more than that.

  How far can he be?

  How could he fucking do that?

  Cramp sets in my muscles. I register the pain abstractly, and then I realize I have to get back and ask for help, and... I can’t even face that possibility. My chest hurts. He didn’t do that. He fucking didn’t do that. I’ll never forgive him...

  I swim back to the shore, the first glimmer of morning flashing over my shoulders, and as I feel scraps of broken shells under my feet, I see his body...

  My heart splits with pain, my lungs completely shut. Face down, he looks as if he’s been washed up on the shore. The waves run smoothly over his feet. He is completely naked, his arms bent on either side of his head. He also looks as if he’s asleep.

  How many times, have I watched him sleep...? How many times?

  The only thing is... Now, he’s not.

  “Jagger??”

  I pick up his shorts and sprint to him, hoping for a miracle. I fall to my knees.

  “Jagger?” I call him softly.

  His hair is full of sand. Tangled bits of algae are stuck to his skin. I run my hand down his back. His skin is cold, but no colder than mine.

  I flip him over and lower my lips to his mouth.

  A soft, warm breath rolls off his lips.

  He’s breathing... He’s fucking breathing. His eyes are shut. His lips are parted. The gray light of morning falls on his face. Sparkling grains of sand litter his lips and lashes.