Page 28 of The Southern Thirst Trap
“Shower, then sleep?” I ask, tracing my fingertips through the sweat on his back.
“Yeah, we more than earned it.”
He pulls out of me and I miss the feeling of him filling me up immediately. I follow him out of bed to the bathroom and watch as he disposes of the condom. He’s been so diligent, so safe.
I feel a momentary twinge of panic, thinking of my empty birth control packet in my toiletries bag on the bathroom vanity. I thought I’d grabbed a full pack, but instead grabbed the used one and ran out a few days ago. I’ll switch back as soon as I get home and it will be fine. Missing a few pills won’t be that big of a deal. We only had that one time in the shower when he fucked me bare, when I realized I was completely in love with him, anyway. Otherwise, he’s had a condom at the ready and we’ve been protected. I’m clean, and if he’s that good about protection, I’m pretty sure he is. It won’t hurt to get checked at home, though, just to be sure.
Zander is back in his business casual on the private jet, a silver-gray shirt that does wild things to his eyes, and black slacks this time. He puts me in a spot next to him when we board, holding my hand and making sure I’m comfortable. He strokes my arm and we chat, but I can tell we both feel the strain of leaving the easy island vacation behind and what that will mean for us. There is a tension underlying everything, and it’s hard to ignore. I find myself slipping back into the playful role for him just to relieve some of it, and he seems to appreciate the gesture, but doesn’t fully commit to his side of role-playing that requires him to banter back, to say something wholly inappropriate or suggestive.
About ten hours into the twenty-hour flight, something changes. He moves to a table toward the back of the jet where he pulls out his laptop and cell and starts working, growing quiet, distant, or barking orders on calls that seem to take hours, and I feel like I would be intruding on his workday if I sit near him. I pull out a romance novel to read, turn on my own phone, and catch up on emails, texts, social media, anything to keep me distracted. He stays at it, the crease on his brow growing deeper, and I feel him slipping away from me.
But I’m probably just being paranoid. Maybe this is work mode Zander, and I should get used to him being so focused. He is the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar empire. That must come with a heavy workload and a lot of responsibility. There’s no way the company he runs got where it is without a lot of sacrifices and countless hours of work on his part. He has a business to run and I can be okay with that. I settle back into my seat with that realization, feeling a little more at peace.
The flight crew sets out dinner for us in the small dining area and retreats to their galley space without Zander looking up from his laptop. I look at my phone, which I’ve been mindlessly scrolling through out of boredom. Zander has been working for close to eight hours. I smile and get up, sauntering over to his work area, sliding into the seat next to him, and placing a hand on his chest as I smile up at him.
“It’s been a full workday. Care to join me for dinner? You haven’t taken a break at all and you have to be starving. You barely ate breakfast and skipped lunch completely.”
“It’s fine. I can eat while I work. Have them bring me dinner over here,” he says dismissively, barely looking at me.
I school my features and try not to let the cool tone hurt me. “They’ve already laid everything out in the dining area. Just take a break. You only need a few minutes to eat,” I say with a smile and more patience than I normally would give to someone who spoke to me with such shortness.
“I have too much to catch up on. This is important. I don't have time to waste, Harlowe.”
I pull back at his harsh tone, his use of my full name that smacks of strangeness after hearing him call me his preferred nicknames, and the insinuation thatIam not worth his time now.
“It’s just dinner, Zander. I’m not asking you to put your laptop away and pay attention to me for the remainder of our flight or anything. The least you could do is have dinner with me for ten minutes if this is how you want to spend the next few hours.” My own voice is hot to his cold, my temper rising at the feeling of being brushed off and ignored so completely for hours on end after having had his undivided attention for two weeks straight.
“It’s just ten minutes to you, but I’m working on a deal that could make my company millions, so I’m sorry if my priorities offend your sensibilities. I’ll take my dinner over here. I don't care what you do. Don't make more of this than it is. It’ll be easier when we get back and go our separate ways.”
I drop my hand from his arm and pull away like he’s slapped me. I feel my mouth working to form words, to make sounds, but nothing comes out, and I’m fighting like hell to keep the sharp prick of tears behind my eyes from manifesting into true waterworks.
“I see,” I finally manage. I swallow hard against the tears and force my emotions down, wanting to be sure I have read this correctly before I react. “Your work is important, I get that. I’ll communicate your wishes to the crew. But Zander,” I start, having to clench my trembling hands together to get my anger, fear, and sadness under control enough to finish. “We’re going to see each other again. When you say we go our separate ways, you mean until we figure out what to do next, right?”
I look up at him as his fingers halt over his keyboard, feeling hope surge in my chest, tentative and new, but built on the back of what we discovered over our two weeks together. This new love, because that is absolutely what it is. This belonging. This owning. This mine and yours and together and forever. That promise of forever is what I hold on to tightest of all right now, when it sounds like he is dismissing me from his life instead of welcoming me into it like I thought he would.
“There is no next for us.” Cold. Final. Heart-wrenching and so devastating, I feel like the jet just took a nosedive, and I lost my stomach somewhere in the freefall.
“What do you mean?” I ask, voice shaking. “I don't understand.” How did I read this so wrong? I know he’s pulled back today, but not to this level. We made promises. We madeforeverpromises.
He sighs in impatience and pushes the laptop away from him so he can grip the table until his knuckles whiten. His eyes close and a muscle in his jaw flexes once, twice, then stills. When his eyes open again, there is a cold light like dawn on a battlefield that blazes at me and I draw back from that intensity, so unlike the warmth and desire I have come to expect. This light is frozen and looks ready to punish and push me away, and I don't like what it could precede.
“I told you there would be nothing more after the trip when I invited you to come with me. You agreed to no attachments. It was two weeks of no cares in the world, and I more than delivered on my end of the bargain. Now you have to honor it. When we land, we go our separate ways. There won’t be any repeats. There is nothing after. There is no us once we step off this jet.”
Cold clarity cracks over my head and spreads like an icy flood down my spine, sending tingles through my veins and rushing along my skin. He is trying to go back to that? He thinks he can reach back to what he initially said and that will be it. I’ll have to admit he’s right, I did agree. I knew the score when I joined him and I’ll have to live with it when I leave. But he’s dead wrong, because we burned those bridges together, cans of gasoline and torches in hand, and we can't go back that way no matter how much he thinks he can. Anger simmers in my veins and it feels a hell of a lot better than the hurt, the betrayal and fucking heartbreak that wants to drown me in utter devastation, so I cling to it.
“You psycho motherfucker,” I seethe. “What was this? Was it all a lie? You made me yours, Zander.” My voice cracks on the admission.
I close my eyes to avoid him seeing just how painful this is for me, how much it hurts that he could be pulling back now, that he could be saying he doesn’t want me after all. I’m not important. I’m nothing more than the pretty face he chose to fuck for two weeks. Turns out that’s all I’m good for, after all, being pretty. He’s extinguishing those lights, taking back the fire and flame he gave me to light the black places in my soul, and returning me to darkness. I open my eyes and feel tears slip down my cheeks.
“You didn't just fuck me. You claimed a piece of my soul andyou gave yourself to me.” I place my hand on my chest and can nearly feel the gaping wound where my heart should be, where the piece of him should be that he has stolen back. “That’s not casual. That’s not anything like no attachments. You tied strings to us that wrapped us together in promises of forever. You made love to me and it was slow and sweet. You came inside of me and said you were ruined, that you wanted this, you wanted me, forever. You gave into this and I don’t care what you are saying now, I know you felt it, too. You can’t deny this, Zander. I won’t let you. You are mine. You want forever with me.”
My words are angry, heartfelt, full of emotion and everything he has made me feel since I realized I was falling for him and he was right there with me. Tears are streaming down my cheeks now and I don't stop them. If he wants to see what his rules and casual, no attachments will do to me, I’ll let him.
Zander’s storm cloud eyes brighten with what looks like pain and misery, briefly showing me the swirling eddies of ash and smoke of those very rules he had burned to the ground for me before he slams down a shutter of cold indifference over them and a flat gray wasteland is all that stares back at me. He fully turns toward me, his laptop and work forgotten, at least momentarily, and I secretly hope I have managed to pull him back to me, that he will admit he was wrong and he does want forever after all, that we can make this work. My hope is dashed as soon as he begins to speak and his flat eyes match his flat, hard tone.
“Listen to me carefully, Lowe, because I will only say this once. You got a very different version of me on this trip. A version that doesn’t exist in real life. That man can't leave this jet, so forget about him. Forget anything he told you and don’t expect me to be him. I’m not capable of being what you’re looking for now, outside of that very specific instance in that very specific place. I can’t be what you need or want and you deserve better, so forget about me. And know I’ll do my fucking best to forget about you. Forever is a lie.”
A quiet sob wrenches free from the tight hold I’m using to keep myself together. But my pride keeps me from utterly losing my shit in front of him. So, I use whatever grace I can muster, rise from the seat beside him, and head to the bathroom. In privacy, I give into the silent, gut-wrenching sobs that wrack my whole body, sending tears trailing down my cheeks, and snot coating my face. It takes me a long time before I’m able to pull myself together, and longer to get my puffy eyes and red face under control. When I leave the bathroom, I find a seat with my back to Zander, put earbuds in, and try my fucking best to forget that he is behind me, forgetting all about me before I’m even gone.