The Couple My Parents Trusted

I keep thinking I imagined the whole thing. Like maybe the heat and the mezcal and all the time of wanting him, finally boiled my brain. But the fact that my thighs are still sore and there's a faint bruise on the inside of my left knee where Uncle Ryan's thumb was, tells me no... it definitely happened. All of it.

I'm getting ahead of myself though.

Let me start again, and clarify that he's notactuallymy uncle, it's just what I used to call him growing up. He's our dad's oldest friend, and I need to remember how careful everything felt at first. How no one else noticed. I swear it crept up on me like the tide in Tulum - warm, entrancing, and impossible to fight once it had you.

First of all, I'm eighteen, as of three weeks ago. I'm the baby of the family, and the maid of honor during this particular time. I'm also the perpetually the "sweet little thing" based on what everyone always called me. My sister was the bride, and she was always glowing and perfect. I on the other hand, was supposed to be background noise in pink silk chiffon.

Then Ryan walked into the welcome reception. He hadn't aged so much as grown more mature, like someone took the guy who used to throw me in the pool when I was younger and matured him to this distinguished man with just the faintest traces of gray starting to show through, along with the laugh lines in the corners of his eyes. He was wearing a white linen shirt that had the top three buttons open. I could see the inner lines of his chest muscles, but also how his forearms rippled every time he moved his fingers. I'm sure it was because he was paddling out every dawn in Singapore to catch the morning waves, just like he had back home before he moved.

He looked... expensive. And before you call me names for thinking I'm a gold digger, I don't mean like he looked rich. I mean it like when you go shopping and you can just look at something and you can tell what was thrown out there, made of cheap parts, compared to the similar thing that was put together with care and precision. That was him. He looked like he still cared and made an effort with his looks.

And there was me, holding a stupid virgin piña colada and it was like I forgot how to swallow when he saw me.

"Is that who I think it is?" His voice hadn't changed at all. It was this deep, soothing pitch that, in my brain, used to mean I was safe. "Holy hell! Look at you," he said as soon as I blushed and smiled.

He opened his arms the way he always did when he'd come around. I walked straight into them without even giving it a second thought. The hug was the same as every childhood hug I could remember, except I wasn't a child anymore. And he'd always had this smell about him I still can't explain. I just know I loved his natural smell that would come through his cologne or deodorant.

When I felt my chest pressed against his, I think I also felt the exact moment he realized I wasn't the girl he used to know. One hand settled on the small of my back and the other between my shoulder blades, but it also caused the decent chest I'd developed to press right into him. The hug was almost familial, and a bit too fast for my taste.

"You're all grown now, aren't you?" he asked quietly, like he was telling himself more than asking me.

Vanessa was half a step behind him. She was tall, maybe five-ten in bare feet, and everything about her looked stretched and elegant, with a long neck, even longer legs, and slender arms that looked like they were made for carrying champagne flutes. She wasn't thin like a model who starves herself, but sleek. I know it's not true, but I always pictured her doing Pilates on yacht decks and eating one perfect scallop, then calling it dinner. She didn't have the sex-goddess body, it simply existed in flawless proportion, with collarbones that were prominent enough to cast shadows around it, and a waist Ryan could probably almost span with one spread hand. Her hips flared just enough to prove she was still a woman without being overly proportioned.

Even her skin was this impossibly warm olive that I don't know if it was even possible of burning. In all of my years knowing her, I don't think she ever got red out in the sun, just deepened. And her hair fell in straight, inky sheets to the middle of her back, that were so glossy they looked wet even when it was dry. No highlights, no beach waves, nothing to signal she tried too hard. Just black. Expensive black.

And her face. God. High, razor-sharp cheekbones that made her cheeks look permanently, elegantly hollow, like she was always on the verge of a smile. Dark almond eyes that tilted up at the corners, framed by lashes so thick they looked fake but weren't. And her mouth had full, soft-looking lips. The lower lip was a little bigger, always resting in this gentle, almost pursed shape, as if she were perpetually deciding whether or not to kiss you. When she did smile, and I mean really smile, it started in her eyes and ended with the tiniest flash of white teeth, like she was letting you in on something exclusive.

She wore almost no makeup here. My guess was just tinted moisturizer, a brush of bronzer, and something on her lips that made them look more stained from red wine than brushed on with lipstick. Simple gold hoops hung from her perfect earlobes, with a thin diamond on a chain that rested exactly in the hollow of her throat. Her light dress matched him while she stood at his side.

Everyone said the same thing - "Vanessa is so lovely." "Vanessa is so sweet." "God, Ryan's lucky, she's stunning and she actually has a personality." But it's not like they were wrong. She listened and leaned in like she cared and you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. When she laughed, you believed it was one hundred percent sincere, and she even remembered your dog's name and asked about your mom's surgery.

Clearly, I had a girl crush. She was perfect. But that week, I learned that was the trick.

No one ever saw the way those green eyes spent a little too long when I bent over to pick up a napkin. Or noticed how her voice dropped half an octave when she talked to me when no one else was around. No one except me, and it took me so long even I told myself I was imagining it.

Because why would Vanessa, sweet, elegant, untouchable Vanessa, ever look at me like she was already picturing me on my knees? And I always thought so too, but as beautiful as I always thought she was, Ryan was the one I'd secretly fallen in love with.

She took my hands in hers, leaned down to reach me at only five-two, with my three-inch heels on, and kissed my cheeks continental-style. Then she lifted my hands to raise my arms and took a step back to look me over.

"Oh my god, you look lovely," she said, appreciatively. "It's been forever, darling. We've missed you terribly."

I believed her. And that was the scary part. But I mean why wouldn't I? She'd always been exactly like everyone had described her. She was one of the nicest women I'd ever met, while probably being the most beautiful too.

The first two days were nothing anyone could have pointed to and said anything was out of place.

Ryan politely carried my sister's veil when the wind kept blowing it out of her hand while taking it to another bungalow for something she needed done. He danced with my mom, then with the flower girls, and even with me once. It was perfectly respectable, keeping one hand on my waist, the other holding mine like a couple of figurines on a wedding cake topper. Every time he spun me out and back in, though, I felt his thumb graze the bare strip of skin between my crop top and skirt. It happened once. Then twice. Followed by several more. As much as I'd like to think it was intentional, I don't know that it actually was.

Vanessa watched from the bar, sipping something clear with a lime wedge submerged in it, and her head tilted. She never looked jealous. She looked... I don't know, curious maybe.

Friday morning I ran into them on the yoga deck. It ended up being just the three of us and the instructor because I'm pretty sure everyone else was sleeping off the night before. Ryan was already in Downward Dog, and his linen pants were pulled tight across his thighs. Vanessa waved me over to the mat beside hers.

"Morning, sweetheart," she murmured. "Are you feeling okay? You look flushed already."

"I'm fine," I said. "It's probably just because I was jogging over here so I wasn't late," I lied.

I spent the entire class trying not to stare at Ryan's back muscles moving under his tank top, while trying to avoid Vanessa catching me. I'm pretty sure I caught her checking on me, almost as much as I was them.

Stop looking at him,I told myself, not wanting to cause a scene at my sister's wedding.

Afterward, when she noticed I didn't have a water with me, she handed me hers without me even having to ask. I tried to be careful to not accidentally brush her fingers, but somehow it still happened. Like maybe she moved hers intentionally.

"You should come swim with us later," she said, as casually as anything else she'd ever said to me. "The reef right off our villa is gorgeous. And I'm sure Ryan would be happy to show you the turtle spot he found."

Ryan glanced up from rolling his mat, with his eyebrows raised. "You don't have to babysit us, kiddo. I'm sure you've got other stuff you'd much rather be doing."

But his mouth said one thing and his eyes said another, and I heard myself answer, "No, I'd love that," before I could think.

We never made it to the turtles. That night was the rehearsal dinner and I wore a backless white dress that tied behind my neck and I loved it because it felt like it floated when I walked. I thought it would look really pretty in the photos if there was any wind at all.

I found Ryan alone by the palapa bar, rolling up his sleeves.

"Ryan?" I touched his elbow. "Could you... the bow in the back came undone. I can't see it to make sure it looks even."

He looked down at me for a long second, and I think I saw something flicker across his face. Then he smiled as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

"Of course. Turn around, sweetheart."

His fingers were quick. He retied the halter without wasting any time, and I felt his knuckles brushing the nape of my neck. When he finished, his hand rested between my shoulder blades, for only a second before I could lean into it.

"There you go," he said, politely.

Vanessa appeared beside us out of nowhere, like she'd been summoned by my rising tension.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked, sounding amused.

"Just helping Lila with her dress," he said, and smiled over at me.

"Of course you were," Vanessa said, and took a sip of her drink. Her eyes met mine over the rim of the glass. "She looks simply perfect now, doesn't she?"

I felt the blush start at my chest and crawl all the way up to my ears.

Later, when the dinner plates were cleared and people were dancing barefoot in the sand, Vanessa found me again. She was barefoot too, and she had this red polish on her toes that stood out against the sand, drawing your attention to how elegant even her feet were.

I knew my feelings about Ryan were only fantasies, but every perfect thing I noticed about her was like a little box checked for why Ryan would never even look at anyone else. Not when he already had her.

When she came over to me a short bit later, she just handed me a shot of mezcal and clinked her glass against mine.

"To old friends," she said. And then with a wink, she added, "And don't tell your parents I snuck you that. I know they still don't want you drinking even though you're legal here."

I smiled at the idea of my first taste. We drank. And I shuddered. The taste and the smell were not my favorite things.

She leaned in and laughed when she saw my reaction, close enough that her hair brushed my shoulder.

"It's cute he still calls you kiddo," she said when her laugh faded, and became a sweet smile. "But I don't think he's looked at anyone else since we landed. Not even me."

I started to stammer something. I'm not even sure what I was trying to say. A denial, maybe? Perhaps an apology, but I'm not sure what for exactly. I don't know, but she just smiled, taking my hand in hers and giving it a little squeeze.

"You don't have to apologize, darling. I don't mind sharing my toys." And when my eyes almost popped out, and I went beet red in the dim lighting, she just chuckled. "In fact, it's pretty fun to share sometimes."

Then she kissed my cheek, pressing her lips softly against me while the top of her dress gapped open a little from how much she had to lean down to kiss me. I saw the inner swells of her smaller breasts hung loose for those two seconds, and then she walked away.

I stood there with my first taste of mezcal on my tongue, and the faint trace of whatever she used to stain her lips clinging to my cheek.

I had to get it together. Tomorrow was the wedding. I had a whole checklist of things to do. Make sure my sister's veil didn't have any wrinkles, find the flower girl who kept hiding her shoes...

I had responsibilities. Important, maid-of-honor things. Instead, my brain offered Vanessa's voice saying,You've got a different kind of maid to honor tomorrow, darling.

I choked on air. Because yeah, okay, brain, real subtle. I had a bride to zip, not a marriage to unzip. I had vows to witness, not ones to break. I had to be up at eight to do my sister's makeup, not up all night doing... whatever the hell the throbbing between my legs was currently campaigning for.

I pressed the cold mezcal glass against my neck and whispered to myself like a lunatic.Get it together. You're here to support your sister in her happiest moment, not fantasize about your dad's best friend... And his wife?

...My traitor libido immediately answered. I hate her - I want her. I'm so screwed - and not even in the fun way.

I didn't stay out much longer after she walked away. I barely slept that night.

Every time I drifted off, I'd jerk awake like when your whole body suddenly twitches. My skin felt too sensitive, my insides felt unbearably hot, and my brain kept wandering to thoughts it shouldn't. I watched the ceiling fan spin above me, but it did absolutely nothing for the warmth that seemed to be coming from deep in my tummy.

By seven-thirty, I was already in my sister's suite, an hour earlier than I was expected, armed with coffee and a garment steamer, trying to pretend I was a functioning human. I fluffed her veil, and I hunted down the flower-girl's rogue shoes. Then I had to smile until my cheeks hurt while the photographer snapped a hundred pictures of us laughing like this was just any other wedding.

I lasted until eleven a.m. before I cracked.

I told everyone I needed "five minutes of ocean air" and wanted to touch up my mascara. Total lie, it was waterproof, and slipped out the side door of the bridal bungalow. The path to the over-water villas was quiet, just cicadas and the hush of waves coming up from the beach where chairs were set up.

Their villa was the last one, tucked farthest out over the reef. As I approached, I could see the curtains were open. I was already asking myself what exactly I planned to say by the time I was getting close. I thought about just walking past to get my head straight, then march right back to doing my bridal duty.

But as I started to approach their villa, I heard Vanessa's sweet voice drifting toward me.

"Come here, baby. You're brooding again."

I should have kept walking. I didn't. I mean, yeah, my footsteps got slower, unsure if I should interrupt them or if maybe they'd see me if I decided to continue walking by.

Once I could see around the corner of their villa, I saw Ryan on the outdoor daybed with his elbows on his knees, staring out at the ocean. He was shirtless, wearing just a pair of loose, light shorts. The morning sun caught the silver in his hair, showing that there was a little more than I originally noticed. Vanessa stood behind him with her back kind of turned toward me in a light, nearly sheer robe that hinted she was only wearing her bra and panties underneath it. She was holding a bottle of lotion in one hand, while rubbing it into her arms with the other with long strokes.

He said something I couldn't catch, but Vanessa climbed up onto the daybed behind him and knelt down with her knees on either side of his hips, and put her head on his shoulder from behind. "She's eighteen, Ryan. She's legal in every country that matters. And who knows just how long she's been wet for you. Tsk, don't pretend you haven't noticed."

My lungs stopped working.

He exhaled, hard, and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Jesus, V."

"What?" she asked, sounding full of innocence. "I'm not suggesting we kidnap her. I'm suggesting we stop pretending about what Iknowyou both want."

I watched from off to the side of them as her arms reached around him and she slid her hands down his chest, dragging her nails lightly over his skin.

"You've been half-hard since she asked you to tie that bow last night. I felt it when I climbed into bed."

He groaned, and clearly her words were getting to him. "She's... she's... Fuck, V, it's not okay to think about my best friend's daughter that way."

Vanessa tutted at him for a second. "She's a grown woman who blushes every time you call her kiddo. And I'm tired of watching her try to not hump your leg in front of her parents." Vanessa nipped his earlobe. "I like her. She's sweet. And I think she'd let us do terribly unsweet things to her if we asked nicely."

Ryan's head dropped forward. His voice came out wrecked. "You're evil."

"What are you talking about, evil? I'm generous," she corrected, laughing. Then she kissed the top of his spine. "There's a difference. She wants it, and you want it. And I want to watch. Maybe play a little myself, if she seems open to it. How does that not make me the sweetest, most generous wife you could ask for?"

I stayed where I was, half-behind the potted-palm, watching Vanessa's left arm stay looped around Ryan's chest, holding him loosely against her. Hearing her say the things she was, I think was even more shocking than what I was seeing. Then her right hand slid down his stomach and paused at the waistband of his shorts for a second, so her fingernails could creep under the edge of his shorts before her whole hand slipped underneath the fabric.

I could see Ryan take a deep, shaky breath, and his head fell back a little, resting on her shoulder. I couldn't see much through his shorts, but I could tell she started moving her hand. The shorts were loose, so the motion was hidden except for the small movements of the fabric over his lap and the motions of her forearm. Up... down... up... down. It looked like she was setting a pretty slow rhythm.

"You've been thinking about her since that hug yesterday," she said, right against his ear in the sultriest tone I'd ever heard. "It's okay, baby. I would've been hard as a rock if I were you and she pressed those big, firm tits against me like that for five whole seconds."

Ryan's jaw tightened. He didn't answer, but his hips looked like they twitched slightly, as if he were pressing into her grip.

"Then, when she asked you to tie that bow last night, I watched you stand there staring at the back of her neck like you wanted to bite it, like a dog mounting a bitch," Vanessa went on. Her hand kept the same unhurried pace. "I could see your face from where I was sitting. Your pupils were blown wide open. Don't tell me you weren't thinking about bending her over the bar."

A sound that was more like a grunt than anything else came out of him, and I could see Vanessa's smile get bigger when he did. "It's okay, baby. If I had a nice big dick like this, I'd have been thinking about it too. Thinking about holding her wrists together while I pulled that dress up and found out what kind of panties the little maid of honor wears."