Chapter Text
"Hi Hazel, long day?"
"You could say that."
Pablo looked around, his brow furrowed. "Did you come here to shop or just seek shelter from the storm?"
Hazel blinked, realizing too late that all of the coffers she found cleaning up the ocean floor were still at the diving dock.
Shit.
"I actually did come here for a reason, I promise," she said. "I just…forgot that reason at the dock. Rain got me by surprise, clearly." She motioned to her t-shirt and shorts, soaked by the storm. She had developed a habit of going to the ocean first thing in the morning after watering her small plots of crops, both because it was so hot in the summer and she may have been procrastinating a little on clearing the back half of her plot. It had been a sunny, warm morning when she jumped into the ocean, but dark and stormy when she exited.
"I'd say so," Pablo laughed, looking her up and down. Water from the soaked clothing dripped down her tanned legs in rivulets, and Hazel found herself watching his eyes follow the path of one particular drop from her thigh to her ankle. She couldn't help the slight heat she felt prickling her cheeks, both from the embarrassment of coming in empty handed and from the way he looked at her now.
She had come to Coral Island after life in Pokyo left her one email away from burnout, the hectic pace and rigid routine day in and day out eating at her soul one droning hour at a time. Getting passed over for a promotion was the final straw. She saved up for two years, working odd jobs on the weekends to supplement her corporate salary in order to buy an abandoned plot of land that had once been owned by her grandparents decades ago near Starlet Town, the site of her last vacation and the last time she truly felt at peace. She arrived with a single suitcase and high hopes—she expected her days to be filled with hard work, fresh air, and the satisfaction of seeing her little piece of land turn into a functioning farm again. She hoped that along the way she would be able to find the community she was so sorely missing in the city, to find connection and new friends that would welcome her into this new pace of life.
What she did not expect was Pablo.
Sure, she had heard gossip from some of the other young women on the island—"Pablo has a bit of a reputation", "he's a flirt," "fun for a night or two"—but when she actually met him for the first time that spring, she couldn't deny there was something there, the very beginning of a spark. She tried to shake it off, not wanting to go down that road when she had so much more important things to do, but now that it was summer that spark had grown to an ember, fanned by the heat and humidity of the island. At least, when it wasn't raining. A shiver ran through her, causing her teeth to chatter despite the warmth of the furnace.
"You okay, Hazel?"
"Oh! Yeah, totally fine!" She said with a fake smile. "I should probably get home, I don't want to waste your time any more than I already have," she said, looking out the window and biting her lower lip—a bad habit that she did when she was nervous, and one she had never been able to break. The rain continued its deluge, and she was not looking forward to walking back to the farm in sandals. If she didn't end up sick now, she most definitely would be if she left. That worried her—losing just one day of work on the farm or in the ocean or in the caverns would set her back for the rest of the season.
"We were just getting ready to close up early today since it's dead," he said, as if sensing her dilemma.
Rafael stopped his hammering and shot Pablo a quizzical look. "We are?"
"Well I hadn't had a chance to discuss it with you yet, but we've only had Hazel here as a customer all day, we're caught up on upgrades, and our other projects are all ahead of schedule. Might as well." Hazel thought she saw him shoot a look at Rafael, motioning with his head to get him to leave. She wondered to herself how often Pablo closed the shop early in the past, before she arrived on the island.
"Oh, okay, sure, that…makes sense," Rafael said, a blush creeping across his cheeks. "I did have a show to catch up on anyways."
Pablo watched Rafael go up the stairs before turning his attention back to Hazel, his eyes softer now that they were alone. "Stay for a bit and dry off, please. If there's one thing about island weather, it's that these summer storms don't last terribly long. An hour, two tops, and it'll be sunny and humid again. You can get back to your farm then," he said, his gaze lingering where her shirt clung to her skin. "Besides, if anyone heard the blacksmith let everyone's favorite farmer walk home in the pouring rain, we'd never hear the end of it," he smiled his easy smile, leaning casually across the sales counter.
"I'm this town's only farmer, Pablo," she smiled.
"Fair enough, but the point stands. Follow me, I'll get you something to change into. You can put your wet clothes in the furnace room and they'll be dry in no time."
She nodded, following him up the stairs. She felt warm all of a sudden, her heart starting to race. She'd been so careful to not get into any entanglements, to keep her focus solely on learning how to farm and learning how to fit in to a small town where everyone knew everyone. Yes, she had spent time with people one on one as she got to know them over the spring, but it was strictly platonic, no matter how beautiful or flirtatious they were—and Pablo was definitely one of the most beautiful and most flirtatious. She'd left Pokyo with string of heartbreaks in her wake, she didn't want that to happen here in Starlet Town. Romance was definitely off the table.
Still, she had gone months without so much as a kiss or even holding hands. It had been almost impossible to resist him and his smiles every time he leaned across that damned counter when she came in with a bag full of geodes or a cart heavily laden with coffers, and she didn't know if she would be able to resist much longer. Especially with the way his back looked as she followed him up to the second floor. She pictured him working in front of the furnace, using his hammer to craft tools for the other people in town, a bead of sweat traveling down the side of his face to his—
"Here we are," Pablo said, disrupting her fantasy as he showed her to the bathroom.
He handed her his robe—clean, he promised, though it smelled faintly of whatever cologne he wore—and a towel, shutting the door and leaving her alone with her thoughts, which were now picturing Pablo in this short waffled robe, fresh out of a shower. Get it together, Hazel, she thought, grabbing the towel and starting to blot her hair. She didn't have time to think about Pablo's back, or the way his tattoo moved when the muscles in his forearm flexed, or the way hot water would look running down the center of his chest, leaving it red and flushed. The farm was in shambles, she had barely even been to the cavern, and the ocean was still a mess, no matter how much time she spent down there blocking out the noise of the world.
She peeled off each article of clothing, grateful to finally have the wet fabric off her body. She debated at first on removing her undergarments in the interest of preserving her modesty, but the thought of sitting in wet underwear and a bra made her skin crawl, so they were soon added to the pile. If anything, they would be dried first and she could put them back on quickly. She ran the towel over her naked body, drying off before looking in the mirror, catching a glimpse of herself for the first time since leaving for the dock at six in the morning.
Goddess, she looked like she had been caught in a storm—her hair was a mess, the two braids she used to keep it pulled back were loose and falling out. Her cheeks and nose were bright pink from the cold rain, but her lips had a blue tint to them. It was no wonder Pablo had asked if she'd had a long day. If you ignored all of that, though, she thought she looked pretty good. All the hours doing physical labor instead of sitting in her apartment doomscrolling and eating takeout had paid off—she was more toned than she had ever been, and didn't feel as self conscious about wearing Pablo's short robe as she would have just six months ago. Or even not wearing it, she thought as she looked at herself in the mirror, the triangle of skin on her chest between the lapels flushing slightly.
"No, I definitely should not be thinking about him seeing me naked, he's just being friendly," she said to herself in the mirror. She raked her fingers through her tangled hair as best she could before tightening the belt of the robe and grabbing her wet clothes, making her way back down to the now-closed shop.
"Thanks for letting me…" she paused at the bottom of the stairs. Pablo was nowhere to be found. "Pablo?"
"In the kitchen making you some coffee!" He called out. "I thought you might want something warm. Make yourself at home, I set out a couple chairs to put your things on to dry."
Minutes passed and Hazel was sitting on the center counter in front of the furnace, looking around the room at the anvil and various tools hanging on the far wall when Pablo came in holding a mug of steaming hot coffee for her. She watched his eyes travel up the length of her legs, lingering on her thighs before they stopped again at the small amount of cleavage the robe revealed.
If she hadn't been so cold, she may have overheated once his eyes met hers. He looked at her differently—not the usual warm, easygoing looks he gave her. All the months of holding herself back from what she wanted the most, undone in an instant with that one look. She couldn't deny herself any longer, no matter how much her responsibilities piled up. She was hungry for him, even if he had never outwardly been anything but friendly with her. That glance changed everything, but she didn't quite know where she stood. Schooling her face quickly, she took the mug from him and drank, the coffee warming her from the inside while the furnace worked to warm her skin. The two talked and laughed side by side on the counter, minutes passing easily before her hand accidentally grazed his. She pulled it away quickly to her lap, apologizing.
"You don't feel quite as cold anymore," he said, taking his hand and placing it on hers, his thumb rubbing her wrist gently. All of Hazel's focus was centered directly on the one inch of skin his thumb circled. It was the first time their hands had touched on purpose since the Cherry Blossom Festival, and she still felt the electricity between them that she had felt on that day months ago. She had to stop herself from giggling like a teenager.
She smiled and bumped his shoulder with hers. "I'm sitting in a room with a blacksmithing furnace. One that has been turned off, but still…I think I made a good choice coming here of all places."
"I'm glad you did," he said, his voice soft and his eyes flitting down to her lips. The energy in the room shifted and she was done for. She found herself leaning forward, a moth to his flame, and before she even realized what she was doing, her lips had parted for his and his hands were on her waist. He kissed exactly like she had hoped he would—slowly, deeply, and with an intensity she hadn't experienced in any of her failed relationships in the city.
Moving here was such a good choice, she thought as he kissed his way down her neck, hitting that one spot she forgot she liked.
"Should…we be doing this?" she asked, almost afraid of how he might respond, knowing she'd keep going if it was a good idea or a bad one. In that moment, all she wanted to do was keep kissing him.
"Probably not," he whispered into her ear, his hands on the tie of the robe she wore. "May I?"
Nerves flooded her system, a thousand butterflies let loose all at once fluttering through every inch of her. Caution begged her to have some sense. Her desire for him was stronger.
"Please," she whispered back. It was barely loud enough for him to hear, but that was all he needed. She felt a warm draft he slid the robe open, keeping it on her shoulders but baring her to him nonetheless. She breathed heavily, suddenly shy as he saw her more exposed than ever—she knew his reputation, would she measure up to those he had been with in the past?
She felt one hand on her waist, the other barely grazing the skin up to her breast, goosebumps prickling her skin. She gasped softly, looking at his face for some kind of approval or anything, really. His eyes were soft again, focused on her as he gave her that half smile she wouldn't tell anyone she thought about sometimes when she worked. His hand kneaded and massaged her, the nipple hardening under his palm.
"Beautiful," he whispered.
They were both quiet as he mapped her body with his eyes and his hands, Hazel's soft gasps the only thing breaking the silence as he touched her like she hadn't been touched in so long, if ever. Lost in the moment, she didn't know when he moved, but he was in front of her now, between her legs and tracing both her thighs with just the very tips of his fingers. His touch was featherlight as he worked his way from her knees up, up, up—so close to where she wished he would touch her the most. Each time those fingers circled nearer and nearer to her core before moving frustratingly back down the side of her thighs, she felt herself growing hotter and hotter with anticipation.
"Pablo," she whispered. Patience never was her strong suit, she had been told. She had hoped to prove the past wrong, but failed at the first test.
He looked up at the sound of his name, eyes blazing before kissing her so thoroughly she knew she'd never forget it. The robe was long gone by this point and one arm wrapped around her back, pressing her body tightly to his while her legs hooked around his waist. His free hand landed on her hip, warm fingertips pressing in to the soft skin. The low hum of the constant pressure she put on herself—thoughts of her farm, the ocean, monsters, of how much she needed to do if only this stupid rain would just stop—quieted. She just wanted a moment for herself. She would focus again when she walked out of the blacksmith's shop, though she was quite sure she would never be able to look at this room again without remembering the way Pablo was now laying her back and tracing the planes of her stomach down, down, down…
His fingers found her center and she was already so slick with want for him and burning with desire that as soon as he touched her she thought she might combust. She stared at the ceiling, anticipation killing her until she heard a chair scraping gently across the concrete floor. It wasn't until she felt his lips on her inner thigh that she remembered they were not alone and were very much exposed.
"Should we—"
"—be doing this? Here? Definitely not," he said, flattening his tongue and dragging it slowly from her entrance to her clit, making her breath catch and her hips tilt to meet his mouth. "Do you want me to stop?"
"Goddess, no," she gasped as he lapped at her, flicking the tip of his tongue lightly against her. "It's just…what if…Raf—"
"He won't. It's fine. But we should probably be quiet."
She wondered again how often this arrangement happened before she arrived on the island. Was closing the shop early some kind of code between them, so Rafael knew to make himself scarce? How many other women had he had in this same position, rocking their hips against his face and raking their hands through his hair? Two fingers entered her easily, stretching and filling her in a way she hadn't been filled in over a year, well before she left Pokyo. He moved them in time with his tongue, and she found she no longer cared about Rafael being in the house. She was molten ore for him, arching against the table and whispering please, please, as they both chased her pleasure. He found a rhythm she responded to, and she was left panting as she tensed up and pulsed around his fingers, her legs trembling and his name falling quietly from her lips as she came.
She caught her breath, laughing softly at herself for not giving in to what she thought were just flirty jokes, for denying herself that level of pleasure this entire time. Pablo stood quickly from his chair and she reached forward in her post-orgasm haze, pulling him down to kiss her and tasting herself on his lips. She felt him freeze when she reached down to the waistband of his jeans to try to unbutton them and see where things would go next.
"We shouldn't be doing this," he said.
"Yeah, yeah…I know," she smiled, moving to kiss him again. He stepped backward, clearing his throat and putting distance between them. She couldn't miss the slight panic on his face.
"No, Hazel, I mean it. We shouldn't have—I just—I wanted…" he took a deep breath. "I can't."
"What do you mean you can't? We just—you just…" she froze, suddenly feeling small and exposed for the first time in so long, brittle as if she were overheated and cooled too quickly. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she looked away, blinking desperately to will them not to fall.
"I know. I'm sorry," he said, pacing and running his hand through his messed up hair, putting it back into place. "I didn't—It was a mista—" he stopped himself quickly, but the damage was done.
A mistake.
"Oh. Okay," Hazel said quietly, her confidence shattered, reminded of the ending of so many relationships she'd attempted prior to moving to Starlet Town. She slid off the table and walked to where she had set her clothes to dry and quickly put them back on. They were still damp, but she would rather walk home in the still-pouring rain in wet clothes than let Pablo see her cry. She didn't say anything else before walking out the door.
The walk through the town was a blur but thankfully the usual congregation of folks in the town square and by the tavern were nowhere to be found, unable to witness her embarassment. Her thoughts raced through her head—surely she couldn't have misread the chemistry, the heat, the desire between them so poorly. She replayed every moment in her head. There was something there, she could have sworn it. But perhaps this was yet another bad decision of hers. She was, after all, excellent at messing things up in relationships. Perhaps she had been wrong about Pablo—had he initially felt drawn to her only to realize the error of his ways after giving her, admittedly, the best oral sex of her life? Was there something wrong with her body, the way she came, the way she sounded? Questions without answers circled like a typhoon around her as she trudged the seemingly endless walk to her farm, each step heavier than the last. Sadness and shame were heavy companions compared to the happiness and lightness she felt just moments ago. She managed to make it to the bridge in front of her farm before losing it, leaning against the railing for support as she sobbed, her tears mingling with the rain to fall into the stream below.
A mistake.
A regret. She felt like everyone viewed her as a novelty, a one-time thing to be used and discarded. She had thought the men were the problem in Pokyo, but…was it her? Was there something about her so unlikeable, so unloveable that she was never enough?
She didn't know how long she spent outside in the driving rain, only that it had started to let up before she pulled herself together. She had run to Coral Island to reinvent herself, and, until today she had been doing so well. With tear-stained clarity, she now saw that letting her guard down and focusing on anything other than the farm was the real mistake here. She vowed to herself to get back to work with renewed vigor tomorrow. Tonight, she would let herself feel the pain she vowed to leave behind across the sea, dampened only by the bottle of wine she kept in the house for emergencies like this.
After the first glass, she felt good about her plan: no relationships, only work.
After the second glass, she started thinking about how good it felt to be with him.
After the third glass, she started thinking about how being with her was a mistake.
After the fourth glass, she cried herself to sleep on the couch.