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“Oh. Sorry. This thing really traps the body heat—” I scoot farther away to give her space, but her arm darts across my stomach, her fingers finding bare skin where my hoodie and shorts have separated in the movement.
“No, I mean…” She sighs. “Earlier. I’m surprised, I guess, that you aren’t playing the field a little. ‘Cause you could, if you wanted to.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay.”
For the rest of the movie, her fingers linger on my waist. They absently draw circles and lines, her skin against mine, and it’s like a compulsion for her to touch me. Which, of course, means I don’t watch the movie at all, because my eyes are torn between staring at the top of her head while I wonder what it would be like if I took her back to my room and really felt her skin against mine, and staring at the insides of my eyelids while I try to force myself to think of very unsexy things.
The movie ends, but we stay there through the credits, then the blackness that follows. Gwen stretches like she’d been sleeping, like she’s trying to create an excuse for us lying there together so long. When we finally stand, I wrap the blanket around her shoulders and tug my sweatshirt down.
“Walk me back?” she asks. I nod and grab her journal for her, then stay a step behind her the whole way down the staircase and the narrow hall to her suite. She swipes her card at her door and steps inside. When she turns and looks at me, I can practically hear her internal dialogue.
I make the decision I know she’s struggling with easier on her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She looks conflicted and reaches out as I turn away, wrapping her fingers around my wrist. If I thought my body was hot earlier, I feel absolutely molten now. It would be so easy to go in, lay her down, show her how hot I think she is, too. But I don’t do hook-ups, and I don’t think she does, either, though I don’t know for sure. And the not knowing tells me exactly what I need to know, which is that Gwen and I cannot happen. Not now, when we’re still strangers.
I cup a hand around her jaw, and she watches my eyes as I lean in. God, the confidence of this woman. It’s clear from the way she angles her face toward mine that she thinks I’m going for her mouth, and she wants to see the kiss unfold.
There’s an ache in my chest, knowing I’m disappointing her, but my lips never make it to hers. I kiss her temple instead, as I’d planned. “Goodnight, Gwen.”
My thumb strokes her cheek, and I have to consciously take my hand off her face and remind my body how to walk away from her door.
My sweatshirt’s off before I ever reach my room. I fling my shoes across the cabin and head straight to my balcony. I’m on fire for this woman, ignited by her charm, and I hope that the brisk breeze will help extinguish the flames and not fan them.
Day 6
Private Island
Gwendolyn
Working out is, admittedly, not my favorite thing. Working out on vacation downright sucks.
My ass is so sore from the seat of this bike, but I pedal on. I know a good cardio workout is great to clear your head and get your endorphins going, but right now I’m so freaking envious of the people doing Upward-Facing Dog on cushy yoga mats outside under the sunrise instead of bruising their tailbones on a bike in the darkest corner of the fitness center.
I give up after an hour, ready for a shower and a day on the beach. It’s boring up here anyway, and I’d feel happier if I’d just gotten the extra hour of sleep. Not sure why I thought coming up here would benefit me.
Gram’s waiting on our balcony when I come back to the room, sipping her coffee and watching our approach to the cruise line's private island. Another ship has already docked, but we’ve booked a cabana for ourselves today, so we don’t feel rushed to try to beat others to a cluster of chairs. Today is all about relaxation, and Gram is starting early.
“Skipping breakfast?” I ask, lowering myself into the far chair and propping my feet on the railing.
“Not hungry.”
“Uh-oh. That’s problematic, because I hear they bring platters to these cabanas, and I can’t afford to eat both of our shares.”
That lifts the corners of her lips, just a little, and she takes another sip of coffee. Her hand shakes under the weight of the mug. There are very few times when I consider that Gram is an old woman, but her demeanor this morning is a reminder that she’s not as young as she used to be. Even if she and Nancy forget that sometimes.
“You spending the day with Sawyer?” she asks.
I shrug in return. “I guess? I assumed all four of us would be in the cabana.”
She changes course. “I can never tell if you two actually like each other or resent us for planning this whole thing.”
“Can neither be true?” She turns her head toward me, and I explain. “I could never resent you, and I think what you did was very sweet.” A little unconventional, but sweet. “I just don’t think he and I would ever work together.”
Gram rolls her eyes and sets her coffee on the table next to her so she can turn her body my way. “Gwendolyn. He is everything you have been looking for, and then some.”
I open my mouth, ready to object, but Gram narrows her eyes at me, knowing exactly what’s coming.
