Page 16 of The Secret
Two days on from the outrageous flirting, the idea of Liss’s graceful hands all over me keeps invading my head. Watching her easy laughter, her good cheer in front of anything she’s presented with, and how damn hard she works, has slipped into my bloodstream. I’m certain she wasn’t wearing a bra yesterday, and I spent the whole day trying to avoid looking at her chest under the thin fabric of her shirt. Too obvious in shorts. No doubt every other guy was thinking the same thing. But my impression isn’t that she did it intentionally; she doesn’t come across as manipulative at all. In all the heat and the sweat, a bra must feel like the devil’s work.
I’m sitting in a chair at the table outside when Brian steps out through the doorway carrying two bottles of beer. My notes about the build and the village grind to a halt, and I take a bottle from his outstretched hand as he peers over my shoulder at the information about local politics and fighting that one of the elders told me this morning.
“You said you wanted to go to some other villages,” Brian says, swallowing his beer. “Kiwale talked to me about a guy from one of the health charities that you could travel with. It would take a few days and could be a bit rough accommodation-wise, but the elder you chatted with today could accompany you, and show you some of the areas he mentioned.”
I squint up at him. “More oral history would be amazing. Could you arrange that?”
He inclines his head. “Easy enough to do.”
“That’s very kind of you. Thanks.”
“Perhaps Liss could go with you?” His eyes twinkle at me, and I look at him sharply.
“Liss?”
“Another volunteer is arriving in the next week or so to help, so after that might work. Liss is good with the local people.” He smiles. “She understands all the nuances and pays the important people the respect they expect.”
He’s right. She’s the one who always talks to the locals with Kiwale.
The call “Shower’s free!” comes drifting from the back of the building, and he gives me an easy smile before ducking back through the beaded curtain.
Has he noticed this attraction between Liss and me and is he encouraging it? I’m not sure I should be encouraging it myself, but every time I’m near her, common sense seems to fly out of the window. I sigh. I need to draw a map to understand the land and the migration of people with all the fighting. Google Maps gives just the big picture; none of the local tracks are on it. Extraordinarily little is recorded anywhere. A trip around the nearby area will give me so much more: alliances, rivalries, and politics.
Cicadas are providing a background chorus in the evening heat when Liss pushes through the beaded curtain and slumps into the seat next to me, a smile curling her pink lips. How is she still smiling after the brutal lifting we did today on site? As she leans into me and peers at my notes, I inhale a whiff of warm woman and sweat, and a bolt of pure lust shoots down my body and settles between my legs.
I examine her sideways. Liss is oddly flirty, like it’s something she does by default as a fun distraction and it’s not really a reflection of who she really is. I’m not sure what to make of it. It reminds me of the women back home that hang around my dad. Maybe she flirts all the time and it doesn’t really mean anything. If that’s true, I really overstepped a line with my display in the shower a couple of days ago.
“Which college do you go to?” she says, eyes scanning over my notes, oblivious as I examine the smooth skin on her arm. My brain crawls, hot and slow, and caution slips into my bloodstream. My life outside of here isn’t something I can really share.
“Zimbabwe. I live in Harare,” I say. I chose to go to college in Harare for one reason: to be out of my father’s reach … The fact that the professor and the programs were renowned was an added bonus.
“What’s that like?” If she’s picking up any hesitation in my voice, she isn’t showing it.
“Awesome actually—it’s a fascinating place.”Being careful with strangers.It’s always been part of my life and I’ve always hated it.
“You don’t have much of an accent.”
Now we’re really on thin ice. I don’t have much of an accent because I went to an international school. “I think I lost it over the years. Where are you from?” I counter.
“A good question,” she murmurs. “When I go home, I go to New York, because that’s where my two best friends are.” No mention of her parents.Interesting. But I can’t probe further, because then she’ll ask me about my family and I can’t give her that.
“What do you do when you’re in New York?”
“I work at one of the universities.”
Safe ground. “Really? I’d like to do something like that.”
She eyes me. “Delivering classes was part of my master’s program, and I’ve carried on working for them on an ad-hoc basis doing admin. I’m not experienced enough to teach.”
I nudge her shoulder with mine. “But you’d like to do that eventually? Teach?”
She shrugs. “I’m not sure I’ll ever fit into a full-time job.”
I’m curious. “Why’s that?”
She leans away from me, and cold washes down my left side. Damn. Part of me wishes I’d looked at her lips when they were close to me. When I glance at her again, she’s staring off into the distance.
“I like being out here. I studied Environmental Sciences, and got to come out here in my first year of college on a summer voluntary program and loved it so much I kept coming back every chance I had.” She smiles at me. “I haven’t worked out how to make all the parts of my life fit together.” Spreading her hands, she laughs. “Clearly I need to start earning some money at some point.”
