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“Of course there’s a swing. There’s also a big stone fireplace, so if you go in the winter you can cozy up and watch a movie after a long day of writing, and your boyfriend could bring you hot chocolate, or something.”
Where a smile had started to form, now there’s a scowl. “Despite what our grandmothers seem to think, I don’t need a man involved to enjoy a vacation.”
Talking to her is like playing a game of Battleship, and that was a direct hit. “Right. You were well on your way to handling the stranger-and-the-sunscreen problem solo.”
Right on cue, we’re summoned to collect our things and board the water taxis back to the main port. She wraps her towel around her waist and wrestles her tote bag onto her shoulder, then trudges along the sandy path to the boat.
It’s clear she doesn’t want to talk, but I promised her a drink, and I extend it to her as a peace offering shortly after we board.
“I was going to ask him to make it extra strong for you, but he nearly filled it to the brim with rum anyway. Must be the standard recipe?”
She doesn’t want to laugh. It’s so obvious, which is why it’s so rewarding when she rolls her eyes, smiles, and takes the drink. She slides her tote bag onto the floor, clearing the seat next to her for me.
Five minutes later, I catch Denny’s eyes on her again.
“Damn. This guy just won’t quit.”
She whips around to face me. “What do you mean?”
I bring my cup to my lips so he doesn’t see me mouth his name, then I throw back the last half of my drink. “Don’t freak out, Gwendolyn, okay? Just play along.” I stretch an arm around her shoulders and pull our bodies closer together. The outside of her thigh is pressed against mine, and her eyes dart to my still-shirtless chest, which has really encroached on her personal space.
She shifts and clasps her hands tighter around her cup. I’m saving her from this dude, but she seems so damn nervous for some reason, the closer that I get.
This could be fun.
The condensation on the outside of my cup is still cold, and when I trace it along Gwendolyn’s arm I’m rewarded with an outbreak of goosebumps from her sunburnt shoulder to her wrist.
I lean in to whisper in her ear, to tell her that it’s working and that Denny looks like a kid who just got an F on a project he worked really hard on. Maybe she thinks I’m going to kiss her again, just like I did on the beach. Whatever it is, she turns inward in defense, raising her shoulder and pinching it to her chin, and her lips just miss mine.
I can’t help but laugh. She does that to me. Has done it, a few times. She brings the sound out of me in the most carefree way, and for a second I forget. I forget that I’m miserable, that my life is falling apart, why I have the time off to be on this trip anyway.
“Relax,” I tell her through the laughter. The breeze sends her hair across her face, and she looks for a moment like the girl from The Ring. It makes me want to laugh even harder, but I keep it in my chest this time. My fingers tuck the strands back behind her ears. “I wasn’t trying to do anything.”
The boat hits a wave and everyone lurches in their seats, and she and I are now closer together, with my hand in her hair at the base of her neck.
There’s a cracking sound from the plastic cup in her hands, and her leg goes rigid, and she holds my gaze before her eyes move to my lips.
And then her mouth crashes into mine.
Day 4
At Sea (Formal Night)
Gwendolyn
Fuck.
I’m an author, for crying out loud, and yet I can think of no other word to better describe how I’m feeling right now. Possible contenders include:
embarrassed
regretful
