Ivory
I vaguely recognize Preston as the man from the villa next door but had only seen his back earlier. It was enough to know he was tall and physically fit. Seeing him sitting at the bar, I notice his dark tan forearms are thick and corded peeking out from beneath his tight t-shirt. He’s sporting stubble on his jawline like he didn’t shaved today and his dirty blonde hair is cut short—not quite a buzz cut but not shaggy either. He sat at the bar noticeably lost in thought, drinking his beer while I chatted away with Juan.
When he introduced himself and said he was from Tampa, recognition triggered in the back of my brain. Then he asked me where I was from like he didn’t recognize me, so I let it go.
We relax into small talk waiting for Juan to come back with our main courses. Talking to Preston is easy. We aren’t having a deep conversation but it is still more interaction than I usually have with strangers. My life is sheltered. Partly due to the media attention. Partly because I learned at a young age to keep others at a distance. More likely than not, people only wanted to get close to me for the benefits of being my friend.
“Do you travel a lot?” Picking up a chip with the ceviche Juan recommended, I glance at Preston.
“A few places. South Africa, Europe, the Caribbean, Dominican. I try to take a big trip every year when I can. What about you?” He sips his beer.
“I travel for work a lot but not so much for fun.” The series I was on filmed a lot in Toronto. Very rarely were we home in L.A. shooting at the studio.
“Is that why you’re here? Work?” My eyebrows draw in scrutinizing his facial expression. There are no tells. Either he is a great actor himself or he really doesn’t recognize me.
“No, my friend actually talked me into a short vacation between work commitments.” On the off-chance Preston truly doesn’t realize who I am, I want to stay anonymous. For the first time in a long time, I feel like Ives. Just a woman sitting at a bar in foreign country talking to an attractive man without the conversation surrounding my looks, who I am, or what I do.
“Same.”
“Hmm?” My eyebrows raise in question as I wrap my lips around my straw for another sip of my drink. Preston’s eyes follow my movement and his throat bobs before he responds.
“My friend talked me into this vacation too.”
Caught off guard by the coincidence, a disbelieving laugh escapes. What are the odds that there’s a male version of Taylor out there convincing Preston to go on vacation too?
“To meddling friends!” Shaking my head, I raise my glass to him with a smile. We’ve already done this once tonight but Preston doesn’t seem to mind the repetition. His eyes bounce between my raised glass, my eyes, and my mouth. My tongue peeks out to wet my lips and I swear his nostrils flare at the action.
“To good food and good conversation.” Something sparks behind his eyes as a sexy smirk overtakes his face when his beer glass taps against mine. My cheeks feel hot. Did I just blush? I hope not. That would be weird. I just met this man. I know nothing about him.
Diverting my eyes to the plates before us, I address Juan. “This food looks really good.”
Juan sticks around, and the three of us settle into an easy conversation. I had every intention of taking dinner back to my villa to watch the sunset. But now, I’ve closed the bar down with a gorgeous stranger over a delicious meal while our bartender regaled us with stories of life in Belize. I haven’t felt this comfortable in a long time. If one conversation at a bar on the second night of vacation is the most comfortable I’ve been this year, maybe Taylor was onto something and I do need this time.
“Thank you, Juan, that was amazing.” Signing the check, I add a big tip for Juan’s hospitality.
“Ah, you’re welcome, my lady. See you later.” He offers a bright smile.
“Can I walk back with you?” Preston pushes his barstool in. “I mean, we are neighbors after all.” His lips tip up as he helps me down from the high chair.
“Sure.” Smiling, I let him guide me to the doors. He doesn’t touch but his hand hovers around my lower back.
“It’s so peaceful here.” Preston breaks the silence as we walk. The night air is warm but the breeze feels cool. When his arm brushes against mine, a chill wracks my spine. I wrap my arms around my body to keep it at bay.
“I’m not used to all the quiet. It’s nice.” The water crashing into the shore is our soundtrack as we walk the pebbled path back towards our villas in silence. There is no first date awkwardness. We are simply two people enjoying a stroll to their separate rooms, together.
Preston stops at the short cutoff to his villa on the opposite side of the cul-de-sac at the end of the pier. “Thank you for sharing your dinner with me.”
“Thank you for joining me.” A slight smile plays on my lips. “Have a good night and enjoy your getaway.” It would be nice to see him again, but I don’t want to set that expectation. I’m hereto reset on my own. Spending all my time with a hunky stranger will only distract me from my goal.
“You too, I’ll wait here to make sure you get in okay.” With just the glow of the moon, I can’t make out his facial expressions but he faces my directly, resting his hands in his pockets. I can only assume he’s taking this task seriously and watching me intently to make certain I get safely inside. The chivalry is nice. I’m reminded again that it has been a while since I’ve experienced something like this in real life. Putting the key in the lock, I open the door and turn to give him a short wave. Preston tips his head as I slide inside and close the door. What an unexpected night. It was fun too. More fun than I’ve had in way too long. I really hate when my friends know me better than I know myself.
March 17
Sunlight streaming through the open doors wakes me up from another restful night of sleep. I’ve slept better each night on this cloud of a bed with the screen closed but the doors and curtains open. Snuggling deeper into the covers, I watch the sun rise above the water. The day starting before my eyes. Is there a better way to wake up? I’m glad Taylor talked me into this vacation.
It’s hard being on set all the time. It’s a pressure cooker of activity with hair and makeup, set design, running lines, battling other creative personalities, and the crew getting everything ready for the scenes we shoot. We film long days, weeks, months, and sometimes years, but only the best parts end up in the forty-five-minute episode for network television.
Had my project ended on time, I planned to take a mini vacation but nothing like this. The past few days have been filled with silent reflection, reading, and lazy swims. I’m starting tounderstand why the studio was not willing to pursue new projects. Finally, I can hear myself think. The time away to clear my head has been really good for me to get centered again. I’m ready to hit the ground running when I get back to L.A. in a couple days.
