Chapter Text
Art, Tashi, and Pat all pulled up to the condo nearby, marvelling at its simplistic elegance. It was a combination of white wood and grey brick placed elegantly around wide windows, lantern-like lights strategically dispersed around the house’s perimeter to illuminate the darkening outdoors. Even standing outside, the house pulsed with the rhythm of house music.
“It’s been so long since we’ve been somewhere so nice,” Pat commented, arm around Tashi’s waist. Art found himself lightly glaring at the arm, inklings of regret beginning to arise as he wondered whether it was worth inviting them. He wondered whether he should admit himself into a psych ward to get a sliver of time away from these people considering he seemed to be physically incapable of pushing them away.
“Speak for yourself,” Tashi quipped as she guided them into the spacious living room.
The living room housed a homely chandelier and was already bursting to the seams with college students of all majors. Art spotted some poorly dressed guys hunched over in the corner with drinks and assumed they were those computer science majors Kehlani was attempting to save. On the other hand, business and marketing majors seemed to litter the dance floor. Unless he was being presumptuous, which he probably was considering he hardly ever interacted with anyone outside of the tennis cohort.
It was futile to actively forge any connections outside tennis; they wouldn’t be half as intimate. Art could hardly fathom trying to intimately know people outside the tennis court. Words could only encapsulate half the intimacy, the choreography, and the vulnerability of tennis.
“Hey, Art, Pat and I are going to the dance floor, wanna join?” Tashi offered, pulling Art out of his trance. Art blinked vigorously, forcing himself to ground himself. It was his night off and he needed to remember that, embed it into his memory for the night. So he rejected their offer, beelining for the drinks in the opposite direction.
He swiped a Jack Daniel’s and began nodding his head to the beat of the house music blasting from several speakers in the room. As he chugged his beer, he found his head to be empty. He hadn’t a clue what to think of if not tennis. He could think of his grandma, whom he hadn’t contacted in a while. He could think of, uh, a movie coming out in cinemas, even if he hadn’t stepped foot in a cinema hall since his initiation into the academy.
He could think about how close Tashi and Pat were to each other on that dance floor. There was no room between their bodies, the absolute lust in their eyes as if they both didn’t mutually find each other useless. What need was there to get that close to anyone? It looked claustrophobic, squished between tens of other students in a single living room. Maybe they were so close by forced proximity, the lust simply a natural reaction–
“Do you need a massage?” Kehlani questioned, staring at his taut arms and clenched jaw. Art didn’t even jump at the sudden presence of Kehlani Ackehurst, green vines curling around his ankles keeping him fixated.
Art simply glanced at Kehlani, using the menial action to avert his mind from the visual of slobbering lovers. Pat had gushed on about how much he loved her and her slim body and all the things he did to her, sure, but seeing it was far more gut-wrenching than he could have ever braced himself for. Words let him blur out what would hurt him, actions forced him to watch every agonising moment. No longer was he under the protective disillusionment of his mind, the screen that would render the obscene scenes between them rhythmic blobs.
“I need a bullet through my head, that’s for sure,” Art grumbled, taking a chug of his beer.
“Wana get out of here? Go upstairs?” Kehlani offered, swiping a drink from the table beside them. She grimaced slightly as a stick substance grazed her fingertips, shivering as her mind diverged.
“There are more subtle ways to ask me to fuck you.” Art deadpanned, forcing his eyes to stay on Kehlani. He had to ground himself and look anywhere but the salacious scene between Pat and Tashi. How much longer would it take before they became a cheap porno? How much longer would they be all over each other?
“How vulgar,” Kehlani smiled, breaking Art from his train of thought. “I would have the decorum to ask you to dinner first.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, just get me out of here.” He grumbled, gesturing dismissively to any general direction he would classify as away. He noted Kehlani’s curious, bemused expression as she noticed his hand completely avoiding Tashi and Pat. She cocked her head to prompt him to follow her up the stairs, which he instantaneously obliged with.
The hallways upstairs were fairly deserted for the most part, save for a couple making out outside one of the rooms. It was an excruciating sight they were both attacked with as they looked into the hallway before they could admire the neat paintings or notice the professional family photo hanging by the vase.
Art found himself recoiling at the sight whereas Kehlani turned to shoot him a cartoonish wink and blew a kiss at him.
“That could be me and you after dinner,” she teased, grinning with a mischievous grin akin to something Pat flashed at him. Art responded promptly with a scowl and a middle finger, causing her to throw her head back with a cackle. She opened a door at the end of the hallway and ushered him in, instructing him to close the door behind him.
The room was pristinely clean with modern LED lights lining the perimeter of the wall, a queen bed pushed against the wall, and posters of movies such as Zodiac and artists such as Amy Winehouse. What caught Art’s attention was a photo on Kehlani’s bedside table with a bejewelled frame. It was of preteen Kehlani hugging a woman who looked exactly like her grinning at the camera. Every feature of the woman was on Kehlani except for the eyes.
“Your mother is stunning,” Art commented. Kehlani merely hummed in agreement, avoiding eye contact, and slid the balcony door open. Her response prompted him to immediately return the frame to its original spot, sensing her reluctance and dismissal must’ve raised unwarranted memories.
She threw herself onto the cushioned chair on the balcony, gesturing him to take a seat on the adjacent one. Art plopped himself onto the chair, legs wide open as he threw his head back. The air outside was crisp and gentle, caressing his skin with almost motherly care. The party beneath them faded, the serenity of the outside chewing the ravenous partygoers. The ocean stretched beyond Art’s line of vision, lapping rhythmically as the moon glimmered over them.
It reminded him of when it was just him and Pat two days ago, him and Pat before Tashi. No, he couldn’t think about the dire state of their relationship, not now. His sole purpose for coming was to forget about everything with abhorrent cheap beer. Forget the expectations of tennis, of his relationships, of everything.
He lulled his head to face Kehlani, who was already gazing at him with a whirlwind in her eyes. Anticipation whirled into patience that whirled into deep concern, all hiding the deep chaotic vortex in the auburn of her eyes. Where the sun came to cast a glare over her eyes, the moon was gentler with it, unveiling something more raw behind them.
“Can I ask you something?” Kehlani requested, sipping her Coke as she awaited his answer. Art nodded limply, a strange ease running through and slicing the tension in his muscles. “Are you okay with everything? With Tashi and Roddy from Flushed Away?”
Art huffed at her question, smiling at the sarcasm even in a solemn question. It was almost endearing that Pat had been reduced to a fictional rat to Kehlani, who probably would refuse to correct herself.
Kehlani had once again another question he kept to the confines of his mind. He never stopped to ask that, refusing to slow down. If he mulled on it too long, he feared it would dismantle his very being.
“If I let myself think about it too long, I think I would fucking lose it,” he answered honestly. Kehlani’s disregard for social laws seemed to rub off on him, grate at his hyper-awareness of others until it left him at the core of his opinions.
“Then how did you meet?” She asked. Art let out a dry laugh as he reminisced their peculiar first encounter, the catalyst of the mess he was now. Kehlani’s awaiting expression forced him to recontextualise everything, recognise how truly bizarre they all were. Who would’ve thought teenage qualms would run so deep and pluck the foundations of everything?
“We all met after Tashi won the Junior Championships, Pat and I were enamoured by her,” he began recounting with a distant look in his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her as he dismantled his past, a sudden shame burning his cheeks as he became self-aware. “We chatted at a beach–one similar to this one–and we invited her to a hotel room the next day. The next day comes and…”
Art trailed off as he hid his face behind his hands with a groan. He wished he had kept his damned mouth shut, kept their experiences within silent, longing stares. After that day, no one ever spoke of it again, a secret disposed in the Bermuda Triangle they seemed to form. Toss the secret in the Bermuda Triangle, let it disappear into mysterious circumstances, and let it become a hallucinogenic, drunk fever dream.
“And?” Kehlani pressed, snapping Art out of his humiliation. There was no point retracting what he was about to say, at least it was only Kehlani.
“We had a bit of a half-threesome,” he confessed. “We somehow managed to make a three-way makeout work until I ended up kissing Pat. God, even after a decade of friendship, I still couldn’t sleep that night.” He rambled, nerves convulsing as Kehlani let a few beats of silence pass between them.
“That makes a few things make sense,” she muttered, nodding as her brain began to sharpen her theories. He watched her smile faintly as his cheeks became a brighter shade of pink, his porcelain skin betraying him with the moon as Brutus did to Julius. “Do you need to cool down?” She offered, extracting the straw from her soft drink. She tilted the drink in his direction just as she did two days earlier, the interaction fresh in his mind as if it was only an hour ago.
Art swiped the fizzy drink and took a swig of it as if it was alcohol. The drink danced and bubbled down his throat, cooling his whirring body down as he burped the remnants of gas. He almost forgot to excuse himself, but Kehlani didn’t seem to be anywhat bothered by it. Nor did she seem bothered by his story.
“Can you please not tell anyone? It’s a bit personal,” Art implored, his mind jumping between visions of shame and humiliation and Tashi leaving him for tarnishing her reputation.
The horror on his face must’ve been evident as Kehlani gently assured him, “Relax, I don’t have anyone to tell.”
Art sagged again, eyes reverting to the lapping ocean again. He reminisced about the beach where they all met, where he and Pat would sneak cigarettes and beer. He could still remember the scent of the ocean as it fused with the cancer fumes, the wooden chair beneath him, and Tashi.
Oh, Tashi, in that navy, off-the-shoulder dress, sitting atop that rock like it was her throne. Every seat was her throne, everything she touched was knighted, blessed, and dignified. He could still remember how she would turn to the ocean, yearning for the ocean. She was a siren at that moment, unattainable and elusive. She made Pat and Art her siren hunters, turning back with a look of challenge.
Fuck, if only he had won that match. The regret ate away at his heart and conscience, his nerves aberrantly reacting to the overdrive. He could’ve sworn he could feel tears in his eyes, faintly building a foundation for a breakdown. His body would explode if he didn’t mitigate it now.
“Can I be honest with you for a second?” Art inquired.
“You have been the entire night.”
“I wish I could undo all of this. I wish I could’ve won that match and had Tashi. I just wish things were different.”
His body was supposed to unravel, the burden was supposed to blow away in the breeze. Yet the regret was still palpable, still visceral. The burden exceeded mental, sending a rush through his body as it reminded him of its physical demands. Kehlani’s silence didn’t help with his bursting body, his face hidden from the awareness of her gaze.
“You’re tensing up again,” Kehlani commented, eyes fixated on his arms. “Are you sure you want to pass up on that massage opportunity?” She quipped, salivating her lips. She changed her position, upright and cross-legged as her eyes flitted back to his. Her head tilted as her eyes failed to contain anticipation or cover the dilation. Her body seemed to be reacting the way Art’s was: out of control.
Art truly soaked in Kehlani. There was a mole on the left side of her nose, collarbone, and thigh. She wore a casual pair of shorts revealing slender legs, her cropped shirt pronouncing her figure. Her skin hadn’t a single pimple, only acne scars from a time in her enigmatic past.
Her lips were bright pink and glossy, slightly parted as she intently awaited his response. She was even more breath-taking upon closer inspection, even more alluring as she stared at him with blown-out pupils. Maybe her offer had merit, maybe the universe was handing him what he needed. For the night at least.
“I just want to forget Tashi, and Pat, and tennis, and everything,” he whispered, eyes flitting back to her lips. What did that gloss taste like? What did Kehlani taste like?
Kehlani rose and placed his thighs between hers, gentle hands resting on his shoulders. Her face was mere inches from his, her hot breath fanning his face. Her perfume was an overload of citrus and summer, forcing him to hold the back of her thighs. He felt her shiver at his tender touch, pressing her glossed lips to contain her overwhelming want.
Her eyes rested on his as her hands languidly kneaded his shoulder, inching down his arm, inching back up his arm. Her hand rested on his neck, an erratic pulse alerting her of its presence. Her fingers were warm–no, not warm, they burned much more than he expected they would. Her other hand mimicked the gesture, coming to rest on his cheek.
He involuntarily leaned into her touch, his hormones sparking with curiosity. Her bottom lip disappeared beneath her teeth momentarily as she leaned closer, shuffled closer, and sat on his lap. He inhaled sharply at the sensations, and his hands brushed over her hips in response.
She smiled slothfully at his response and murmured millimetres from his lips, “Then let me help you.”
She closed the distance and Art felt his lungs burst. Kehlani’s movements began tentative and experimental, her grip on him tightening as her body surged and surged with excitement. Art couldn’t handle the caution, not when she tasted like cola and cherries. He became more and more feverish and Kehlani matched the energy, ravaging each other’s lips animalistically.
Art could feel more and more adrenaline rush downwards as his hands explored every inch of Kehlani’s body. His hands ran across the expanse of her back, under her shirt, over her clothed breasts, and at the back of her neck where he pulled her impossibly close to him. Her skin was pillow-soft, feathery under his hands slightly calloused by tennis racquets.
Her hands also explored his body, travelling down his chest, down his abdomen, into his shirt, and around his back muscle. He could feel shivers all over his body, blossoming with goosebumps as her hands traced their path. He pulled her even closer with the intent of fusing them together, enhancing the ecstasy.
She groaned as she felt his erection pressing against her, his skin against her fingers, the sound sending Art ravaging even more than he already was. He devoured the sound, returning to some primal, animalistic part of him, the dormant energy waiting to be unleashed. It was almost as if they were both high on the cola they shared. Their bodies bounced with energy, twisting and turning to accommodate their savage speeds.
Art broke the kiss and kissed all over her cheeks before moving down her neck, covering every inch of skin he could muster. He suckled on her sweet spot, producing a symphony of pleasure and purple all over her neck. He magnetically found his way back to her lips and repeated the cycle until they couldn’t.
They pulled away to catch their breath, and Kehlani’s hand found its way to his buckle. Her pupils had consumed her irises, executing their next attack on her cornea. Her half-lidded eyes met his, seeking permission to continue.
Art nodded fervently, eyes almost tearing up with pleas as his jeans became more and more constricted. Kehlani fumbled with the buckle for a second before expertly manoeuvring his belt off. Then came the pants.
Behind closed eyes, Kehlani became Tashi, and the burden finally freed him from its shackles.