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After dinner, Maggie and Nan take off to change. “You can find us on the pool deck if you need us,” Nan tells me, nudging me with her elbow. “Hopefully, you won’t.”
Gwendolyn
“What the hell was that in there?” he asks when Gram and Nancy are out of earshot. “Are you starting to like me?”
“Oh, please. You started it.”
He laughs that infuriating laugh of his. “I started it? Are we playing that game? Because some might say that you started it—yesterday—when you kissed me. In fact maybe we should take a survey—” Sawyer takes a long stride toward our grandmothers, and I reach for his arm.
“No!” I say, far too loudly, and he turns back to me with a knowing grin. “No. We don’t need to survey anyone. They don’t need to know about my momentary insanity.”
He slows again and we walk side by side. I hate that I notice when he shoves his hands into his pockets. I hate that he does it when he feels embarrassed or unsure. I hate that I make him feel that way, but I kind of love it, too.
When I packed my dresses for the two formal nights, I must have been drunk, or thinking I was on a honeymoon cruise instead of on vacation with my grandmother. Maybe I’d secretly hoped that pictures would make their way back to Tristan and he’d be so devastated by my sex appeal that he’d come crawling back, and I could humiliate him the way he humiliated me. Instead, I’m humiliating myself, standing here in this ridiculous dress next to Sawyer, who looks equally uncomfortable.
“About yesterday.” He takes a hand from his pocket and massages the back of his neck.
“Yesterday was nothing, Sawyer. Denny was watching, and I did something to let him know I wasn’t interested.”
“Right. Yeah. But—”
“That’s it. Honestly.” Full disclosure: it might not be it, but no way am I telling Sawyer that. “Can we please stop talking about it?” He nods, and we walk in silence farther down the deck.
“So, Gwen,” he says, and I miss the rest.
Just like after I kissed him yesterday, I feel naked and embarrassed. Then he calls me Gwen again, and I feel even more exposed. My name on his lips might as well be his hand on my thigh.
“Gwen?” He touches my shoulder, and there’s heat between us. I know he feels it by how quickly he pulls away. “Where do you want to go?”
“The library.”
Sawyer arches a brow at me. “You’re all dressed up, and you want to go to the library?”
I nod. “There’s a café on the first floor. Books on the second. A great view. What could be better?” Comedy show. Yodeling competition. Falling overboard. All actually sound more appealing than going to the library right now, with its dim lights and romantic atmosphere. “Are you coming?” If I were an editor, I’d scribble a huge wc by that line. Poor word choice, Gwen.
“Do you want me to?” He winces as the words come out, like he immediately regrets accidentally continuing my accidental innuendo.
I have no idea what this man wants. Does he want me to invite him, and if I do, what is he expecting will happen? Or does he want me to let him off the hook and tell him I’d rather go solo?
“How about this,” I say. “I am going to the library. You are a grown adult who is free to go wherever he wants.”
Sawyer
There is a zero percent chance I’m letting this woman out of my sight. Especially in that dress. I could blame it on the Denny incident, say that I’m worried someone else might get too handsy with her and make her uncomfortable. But I’ve been focused the last few months on being honest with myself and managing my feelings and my truth better, so let’s say what it really is: I don’t want to let her out of my sight because she looks incredible, and I am attracted to her.
Her lips, painted a deep purple-red, part when she turns and sees me trailing three steps behind her. If she plans to say something she reconsiders, closes her mouth, and turns away from me. It’s only after we have our coffees and are climbing the stairs to the library that she engages with me again.
“This might have been a mistake,” she whispers, taking in the full room. Most chairs are surprisingly occupied, and it’s quiet; everyone actually seems to be reading. She looks up at me, biting her bottom lip, and it would be totally wrong to kiss her right here in the middle of the room, but it’s all I want to do. “Wanna get out of here?”
“Yes,” I whisper past the lump that’s formed in my throat. I would love to get lost in a real library with her, like exhibitionist undergrads sneaking to a hidden corner of the campus library where no one ever goes and the overhead light flickers, and I suspect she’d be just as sexy in an oversized college sweatshirt as she is right now, and I’d pin her against rows of books and have her there, half-dressed and hushed.
But we’re not college kids, and we’re not in private, and oh God I need to stop thinking about that scenario immediately, or I’m going to poke someone in the eye as I walk past them.
I follow her back down the stairs and match her pace as she wanders.
“Did you need to change your shoes or anything?” I ask, though I’m hoping she doesn’t change a thing, because she looks great… but also, I could do without seeing all that flesh when I’m trying to keep my flesh under control.
She shakes her head as she sips her iced coffee. “Nope. I’m good.”
