The sun was setting when Isabel reached the unpaved back road that led to Mike’s house. Her stomach growled. Hopefully Mike had some food. And hopefully, he still lived there. She hadn’t asked the guy at the surf shop if Mike had moved, since she didn’t want to look like too much of a stalker. But she had a strange feeling that he hadn’t. She slowed down as she came upon his driveway, then turned in, shading her eyes from the fading sun.
When she saw the house, she wondered if she’d guessed wrong. Mike couldn’t still live here, she thought. It looked too good. Someone had given it a fresh coat of white paint and fixed the screen door. The sloppy pile of mail and circulars had been replaced by a bright, colorful mat. The Christmas lights were gone. Even the lawn looked greener and less overgrown with weeds. But one look at the Xterra in the driveway let her know that she’d been right. Mike still lived here, and he was home.
She stuck her feet in her flip-flops, then bravely got out of the car. The anger she’d felt earlier had faded, but the adrenaline was still there, pushing her forward. She had no planned speech. No opening line. Just simple, bare need.
She walked up the steps, pulled open the screen door, and knocked on the wooden door. Nothing. No sound. She knocked again, louder this time. Finally she heard someone turn the knob from inside the house. The door creaked open, and Mike stood on the steps, looking sleepy and relaxed, as if she’d just woken him up.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” she said.
He rubbed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to say sorry about that text,” she said. “And storming out of the shop. I know that was rude. And lame. I was just angry.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “Is that why you came all this way? Just to say that?”
She shook her head and took a step toward him. He pulled her into his arms. The kiss was explosive, unleashing something long pent-up in both of them. He pulled her inside the house, pushing the door shut behind her with his free hand. She yanked his T-shirt up and over his head, feeling his warm skin, his six-pack, the hard, smooth surface of his chest that she’d thought about so many times. He held her tightly, his back against the wall, and kissed her all over her face and her neck, then pulled the tunic up over her head to continue kissing her all the way down her chest. His hand cradled the back of her head as he returned to her lips, kissing her hungrily, so hard that she felt his teeth bite into her lips, and then it traveled down her back, to the knot of her bikini top that he slowly untied.
Together they moved, still kissing, down the hall, just as they had so many times last summer, back to the same room that she remembered so well.
“I missed you,” he whispered in her ear, and all she could do was smile, close her eyes, and know that she was exactly where she belonged.
Hours, or maybe days, later—she didn’t know—she opened her eyes. The only light in the room was from a lone votive candle on the bedside. It flickered in the breeze coming through the open window. Mike lay beside her, sleeping deeply, turned toward her on his side so that his face rested on her shoulder and his arm hooked around hers. There wasn’t a sound, except for the pulse of crickets in the dark outside.
There was no clock in the room, and she’d taken off her watch back at home. For a moment she wondered if Rory had left the house already and where she’d gone, but this wasn’t the time to think about that. She could think about it later. For now, she wanted to enjoy this moment.
Mike stirred next to her, moaning softly, and she turned to him, pressing her lips into his hair. God, he’s beautiful, she thought, looking at his tan arms and chest. How much she’d missed him. How overdue this had all been. How good it felt to be back in his arms, in his bed, in this house.
She turned even more onto her side, and Mike opened his eyes. Delicately, she stroked his arm with her fingers. He smiled, looking into her eyes. “What time is it?” he asked.
“No clue. And I don’t really care.” She kissed his forehead and then the tip of his nose.
“You’ve gotten even more beautiful,” he said, touching her cheek. “I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Enough with the flattery,” she said. “I might start to believe it.”
Mike propped his head up and looked around the room. Then he grabbed his watch from the windowsill. “It’s almost nine,” he said. “I’m supposed to meet some people right now.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah,” he said, putting the watch down. He buried his face in her neck and sighed. “I’d love to blow it off, but it’s Gordy’s birthday party.”
She remembered Gordy from that night at the Ripcurl last summer. She hadn’t liked him much then, and she was pretty sure she wouldn’t like him much now. “Then I guess you should go,” she said.
“Want to come with me?” he asked, looking up at her.
“Now?”
“Yeah.” His smile was almost goofy. “They’ll all remember you. You should come.”
“Is that girl with the Farrah Fawcett hair going to be there?”
“Which girl?”
“Forget it,” she said. She sat up, holding the covers against her. “Actually, you should go. That’s cool. I can go home.”
“But why not come?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow. “I mean, you have to eat, right?”
“Because look at me,” she said. “I need to take a shower. I need to change.”
“It’s at his house. No need to dress up,” he said. He pulled her down. “And I don’t want to let go of you yet. How does that sound?”
They kissed, but instead of feeling blissed-out and excited, she felt pinned down and trapped. Suddenly she needed to get out of his bed.
“I really should get going,” she said, pulling herself up. “Where’s my suit?” She got out of bed and knelt down on the floor to get dressed. Out of his eye line, she pulled on her bikini bottoms and tied her top. “Okay, where’s my cover-up?”
“So you’re leaving,” Mike said, with a bereft look on his face.
“Just temporarily. You have a party to go to.”
“A party I just invited you to.”
“I know. I just don’t feel like it yet,” Isabel said.
“What’s wrong?” Mike asked. “What are you running away from?”
“Nothing,” she said, starting to get annoyed. “Why do we have to go out as a couple right this second? Can’t we take some time to see where this goes?”
“See where what goes?” he said, sitting up. “What do we have to wait and see about?”
“Maybe I have to wait and see how I feel,” she said. “Maybe it’s not all about what you want.”
“You’re the one who came over here and jumped my bones,” he said. “Sorry if I’m a little confused right now.”
“Ugh. I didn’t jump your bones.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I feel like you’re bolting.”
“I’m not bolting. I don’t want to go to Gordy’s party.”
“Right,” Mike said.
She looked at him and shook her head. “Okay. You’re being annoying right now.” She walked out of the room and stomped down the hall. Her tunic lay in a ball in front of the door, and she grabbed it.
He followed her down the hall in his boxers. “Hey, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling a little insecure, okay? I mean, you show up here, we have this amazing time, and now you’re out the door.”
She knew that she was supposed to tell him that he had no reason to be insecure, but for some reason it felt like too much to ask of her right now. Was she his girlfriend? Did she even want to be? In any event, this wasn’t the Mike she knew. He’d never been ready before. She tugged her tunic over her head and slipped her feet back into her shoes. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” he said. He mustered a small smile. “Thanks for coming over.”
“Bye. Have fun at the party.” She couldn’t get outside into the warm, buzzing night fast enough. Who would have thought that Mike Castelloni would be clingy, she thought. And that I wouldn’t want him to be.
She got to her car and opened the door. She was embarrassed at her hasty departure but also determined to leave. It was only after she’d gotten back on the highway that something occurred to her: Maybe this was the new and improved Mike, the Mike who’d changed, the Mike who could actually be someone’s boyfriend. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted him.