Roatan Plunge | Love Travels #2

Eight - Óscar

Why on earth is she running? No entiendo.

This is not the reaction I usually get from women I've saved from near-death. It's happened a surprising two times in my life. And last time it went very differently than it's going today. Admittedly, I was kind of hoping this one would go better rather than worse. I cannot get her smile out of my head.

When I finally got to the resort and explained the whole mess of today to Enrique, I asked for something to do to keep me busy. I might have left out the part about wanting to get a certain woman out of my head.

And that was my first mistake. Because the task my brother gave me was to help Lorena plan activities for the week. Even her name is beautiful. And I'm not a very religious man these days, but it seemed like the hand of God reaching down to tell me I'm not meant to forget her, I'm meant to help.

Which is why I'm watching her run down the dimly lit halls of a beachside resort that smells of guava and coconut.

She rounds the corner at the end of the hall and my body finally springs to life, chasing her down and letting the sound of her heels clicking against the tiles guide my path. After several minutes and more corners than I could count, I think we end up back where we were, but I'm honestly a little lost.

When I finally catch up to her she rounds one more corner and the noise stops. A breeze blows in through the white curtain hanging on a nearby window and brings the scent of flowers and something spicy.

I stop when I turn the corner and just stare at her, moonlight streaming in behind her sharp, angular form as she sits against the wall holding her ankle. The way her dress falls over her shoulder with such ease draws my eye to the way her effortless curls continue their journey down her nearly naked back.

But it isn't any of that holding my feet to the floor. It's the look in her eyes that stops me in my tracks. I've seen it far too often in the mirror. Aimlessness. Loneliness. Pain.

My own chest tightens as the memories I've worked so hard to keep at bay come flooding back in. I'm trying all my tricks just to stay calm, but nothing works as well as her eyes lifting ever so slightly to meet mine. A whole epic series flashes across her eyes, mouth contorting into something I've never seen before. Her singular gaze digs into me and analyzes every last thought I've ever had.

"Come to gloat about ruining my life?" Pointy words prick my skin while my feet carry me toward her frail form.

"No. Not that." A vision of my sister flashes through my head.

"Come to tell me you're not going to take over my job, then?"

The hurt and anger behind her words grounds me enough to let go of my own shit for a minute and focus on her. She pulls her arm away before I can reach out to comfort her, so I tuck my hands behind my back. "I was never going to take over your job. I just wanted to help."

"I don't need your help," she spits. "Or your money or your connections or anything else you might throw at your problems to get them to go away."

"You aren't a problem I'm trying to make go away." I thought this much was obvious. And I'm not sure if I should be mad she'd assume that about me or relieved she's not like the people who seem to want me only for those connections and money. It could be worse.

I move to sit down on the floor beside her and she shimmies away a little at my nearness, so I slide away from her a couple feet and turn to face her.

She seems to be holding up well after her fall from the Corona Cabana this afternoon, so I start with something simple. "How are you feeling after today?"