A Long List of Nevers - 6. Chapter 6

Keith woke up to warmth, snuggled against a broad expanse of naked male skin. He curled up tighter within Carl’s embrace, his head cushioned against a huge bicep. Carl was snoring quite loudly, but rather than being annoying, it was actually strangely comforting. Hearing it made Keith want to burrow even deeper under the covers with this mountain of a man.

He wedged his nose against the hollow of Carl’s neck. The smell of pure masculinity mixing with slightly dank sweat wafted up to his senses, awakening other parts of him.

At the movement, Carl grunted softly and readjusted Keith against him.

Keith gradually became aware of something a bit warmer and hard against his thigh. He sleepily moved his leg against it and was answered by a low moan from Carl.

Sleep immediately deserted him. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at the deliciously sensuous curve of Carl’s lips framed by light masculine stubble.

Oh shit.

His eyes flicked around his surroundings rapidly, trying to get a grip on the situation. He was on a bed and he distinctly couldn’t remember falling asleep in one.

He carefully pulled his head away from the intimate almost-kiss with Carl and looked around more. From what he could see of the furnishings and the wallpaper, it was a room in the Cronek resort hotel.

How the hell did he get here? More importantly why was he lying here curled up against Carl… naked?!

Ok, not exactly naked, he admitted. He was fairly sure he still had his grundies on. But he was only reasonably certain of that because he couldn’t feel the heat of Carl’s impressive morning wood directly on his skin. Speaking of which…

His eyes drifted down to where their lower bodies were pressed together and gulped. In spite of himself he could feel his answering arousal. Carl was even more gorgeous naked.

Almost naked, he corrected himself, though the thin material of Carl’s underwear didn’t really leave much to the imagination. He could see blond hair peeking out the waistband, past that bulge. The cotton fabric clearly outlined the head of Carl’s dick. He suddenly got the urge to bury his nose there… just… right… there. And wrap his lips around –

What the bloody hell was he thinking? He mentally slapped himself, disconcerted at the direction his thoughts had taken.

Forcing his gaze away he focused his attention on trying to extricate himself from Carl’s bear hug. He started by gently lifting Carl’s – godawfully heavy – arm from where it was wrapped around his waist. Little by little he managed to free himself. The hardest part was where Carl had pinned his left thigh between his, but he slowly slid it out as well, albeit accompanied by the undeniably erotic ticklish rasping of Carl’s leg hairs against his. He squelched more of those thoughts, gritting his teeth until finally no part of him was touching Carl.

Keith laid still on his side for a moment, making sure that Carl was still asleep, then he stepped out of the bed carefully. He kept his gaze warily trained on Carl. Not looking behind him, he accidentally hit his leg against the bedside table. He turned around in panic just in time to see the lamp perched on top teeter and come crashing noisily down to the carpeted floor.

“Shit.” He cursed. He jumped back from the bed, expecting Carl to wake up.

He didn’t. Carl just muttered something in his sleep as his arms sleepily groped around the bed for Keith. Finding nothing, Carl started to frown.

Hastily, Keith plucked one of the pillows from where it had fallen to the floor and inserted it within Carl’s arms. Carl muttered something incoherent again before hugging the pillow tightly, a small smile reappearing on his handsome face.

For a moment, Keith wanted to rip the pillow away and jump right back in. Standing over Carl and seeing his gloriously perfect body was almost too much for Keith. Smooth, tanned, and powerful muscles, but without the bulk usually associated with men of his stature. Broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist. Light sprinklings of blond hair on his arms and legs were picked out by the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. It outlined him with the illusion of a golden halo, making him look even more like a greek god.

The man was incredibly, impossibly sexy.

And to think that all he had to do was swallow his pride and throw common sense out the window. To think that all he had to do was lie to himself and he’d be back in that bed in that man’s arms. And then… and then what?

Nothing, that’s what! Keith told himself angrily. He’s nothing to this man and will always be nothing.

What happened last night anyway? Keith wondered. He remembered everything. From the handcuffing thing to the kiss to the long walk back to town. What he couldn’t remember was how he got here with Carl when all he could clearly recall was falling asleep under that mango tree. He couldn’t remember when the cuffs were taken off either.

Beer amnesia?

Eyes wide, he lightly patted his ass, feeling for signs of tenderness. Nothing, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then realizing the ridiculousness of what he had just done, he chuckled.

Keith also knew that just because his ass wasn’t sore, it didn’t mean nothing really happened last night. But for now, it was most likely that nothing did. It’s not like he’ll ever be thrust into the same situation with Carl ever again anyway, so the point was moot.

He walked across the room and found two sets of fresh clothing lying on a chair near the door. His dirty clothes were in a bag on the floor beside it. He hastily dressed himself, slid his feet into his still dusty sandals, picked up the bag, and opened the door.

Keith took one last glance at Carl’s sleeping form, a look of regret and desire briefly flashing on his face, then he quietly closed the door and left.

Two days later…

Saturday afternoon was scorching hot as usual. Keith had worn a dress shirt and he was starting to regret it. He consoled himself with the fact that it would only be for a day. First impressions are important after all.

“Oi Keith!” A small voice piped up as he closed the front gates of the house.

He turned around and saw a pretty dark-haired girl bouncing a ball against a tree.

“G’day Caz.” Keith smiled at her.

“Why are you all dressed up?” She asked curiously, tucking the ball under one arm.

“First day of work.” Keith shrugged self-consciously. “What are you up to?”

“Oh nothing.” She wrinkled her button nose. “Mrs. Jones is cooking lunch.” She added, referring to the lady next door. Mrs. Jones usually took care of her nowadays when Caz’s dad was working. Her own kids were in their late teens. They were living with their Aunt in Exmouth to attend High School, so she didn’t mind.

Before Keith’s mum died suddenly from that stroke at the age of sixty, she was the one who helped Lee take care of Caz. Caz even called her Mum as well. Keith also babysat Caz during his times home from university. Nowadays when he wasn’t working, he’d take Caz on trips into the town just to keep her company.

Caz’s own mother had died from a car accident when Caz was still a baby so she didn’t remember her. Her dad moved to the bungalow next door soon afterwards, taking a job overseeing the boat rentals in the docks. The taciturn middle-aged half-Yamadji man and the bubbly ankle-biter had become an extended family for Keith and his mum through the seven years they had been neighbors.

It’s been two years since his mum died, but Caz still cries when she’s reminded of her. She was the only mother that Caz had ever known after all, and Keith was the closest thing to a big brother to Caz.

“Can I go with you to the bus station?”

“Sure.” Keith took her hand as they walked through the tree-lined shared driveway to the street corner. He listened patiently as Caz prattled on about what she did and what she’s planning to do today. In return, he told her about his encounter with the echidnas.

It still broke his heart to know that she too was lonely. There weren’t enough children in Cronek of her age. She usually had no one to play with during weekends because most of her classmates in the island’s correspondence school lived farther up north.

“Keith, why don’t you draw anymore?” Caz asked as they sat on the bench in the station, breaking away from her earlier topic of conversation.

“Whoa. Where’d that question come from?” Keith looked down at Caz, amused.

“Well, you don’t draw anymore.”

“I…” In truth, Keith didn’t know either. “I’m just busy, I guess.”

“You should draw again.”

“Maybe someday, Caz.” Keith said, sighing.

“I have a secret.” She whispered, motioning for him to come closer.

Keith leaned over.

“I want to draw like you when I grow up.” Caz whispered proudly, smiling her adorable gap-toothed smile. “I’ve been drawing snails.” She shyly added.

Keith laughed and ruffled her hair, looking away to hide the sudden sadness in his eyes. “That’s great, Caz. Show me later, okay?”

The ‘drawing’ Caz was referring to was pastel painting. He used to paint a lot, trying to capture beauty when he saw it, as cheesy as that may sound. Back then he saw it everywhere.

That was years ago.

He still saw beauty everywhere. He just didn’t feel like he had a right to ‘capture’ it anymore.

He was surprised that Caz even remembered his past hobby though. Caz was only five when he painted his last work – a study of Caz and his mum peeling potatoes out on the verandah. Keith’s throat constricted at the memory of his mother, and how he was back then.

Naïve.

The bus arrived and Keith quickly hugged Caz, promising to come over for dinner later that night.

The bus pulled up at the town center fifteen minutes to one. He was back to his old work schedule it seems. The town was crawling with tourists. Twice a year the population of Cronek doubled and sometimes even tripled because of the tourist industry. The original fishing economy of the Cornish settlers on Cronek had long been supplanted by the more lucrative tourist industry. Not that Keith was complaining, tourism was definitely far kinder to the fragile reefs surrounding Cronek than fishing was.

Rounding the block he confronted his old workplace. He was actually disappointed to find out that nothing much had changed to it despite switching ownership. The only thing changed in the facade was the sign. Instead of the faded ‘Souvenirs’ sign painted circa 1950’s, it was now sporting ‘Cronek Bookstore’ in cheerful letters.

The sign hanging on the doorknob read ‘closed’ and the storefront shutters were down. He pulled the string connected to the door chimes a few times before realizing that the door was unlocked. He entered the shop hesitantly and called out hello.

No response.

Curiosity made him enter anyway. He wanted to explore the place. Besides, the air-conditioned interior was heaven after the stifling heat from outside.

The interior of the store also hadn’t changed all that much. The shelves had been emptied of the trinkets and other bric-a-bracs they used to sell here. But aside from that, everything still looked like the way it had when he still worked here.

He reached the last row of shelves and was rewarded with the sight of books. The owner, it seems, had just begun stocking the shelves by genre. The History section was already half-filled. On the floor was an open ledger beside neatly labeled boxes of more books.

There was still no sign of his employer.

Keith shrugged and went to see what books were already up. In a few seconds he had lost himself within the world of the Conquistadores.

The chimes rang half an hour later. Keith figured it was the owner. He hastily closed the book and slid it back into the shelves. He ran his hands down his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. Fixing a nervous smile on his face, he went back out front to greet him.

Keith turned at the corner counter and stopped, his mouth slowly falling open.

Carl stood inside the door with a box of pizza and a six pack cradled under one arm. He grinned when he saw Keith. “What the fuck are you wearing, mate?”