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Seriously, who the hell am I?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Victoria
“Don’t forget your leftovers,” Ben calls as I follow him out of the little restaurant on the beach.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, hurrying back to the table to snag the snack bundle Katy, the proprietor, made for me out of all the little tidbits we had left and, if history has taught me anything, a bit extra.
“Thanks, Katy,” I call over my shoulder as I reach the doorway.
The woman smiles and waves.
Ben’s waiting for me just outside the building and slides his hand across my bare midriff as I approach him, pulling me in close to his side as we make our way back to the golf cart.
It’s madness that I’m allowing this sort of behavior in public on this tiny island, where anyone walking by could be holding the bomb that blows my entire life apart, but it’s a hard train to stop.
The closer we get, the more the man seems to need to touch me all the time. The more he touches me, the more I crave his warm hands on my skin. And even though I know every public display of affection is another round of deadly roulette, it’s stopped feeling that way all the time. I guess I’ve just gotten used to it.
Gotten used to the feeling of impending dread that follows you around at all times? That’s pretty fucked up.
Somehow, it just happened. The more time we spend together and nothing terrible happens, the more I’m able to convince myself that it’ll never happen.
And we spend nearly all of our time together now. Hanging out on Merit, bumming around Saubry, cruising the sunset in chartered yachts.
He leans down to kiss me as he tucks me into the passenger seat. His lips are warm and salty, his essence rendering me immobile for a moment, even as I try to fight off this power he seems to have over me. The power to turn me from the smart, sensible woman I used to be into the flushed, needy woman I always seem to become in his presence.
Madness.
Ben looks over from the driver’s seat of the golf cart. “What time is your class tomorrow?”
I look back at him with raised eyebrows. “Seven. And you should know that. It’s your class, too.”
We’re not even apart when I go to work, as Ben has taken to attending all my classes. I get a bit of alone time when I’m setting up and breaking down the room. Ben waits up at Reef or talks with Sam or whatever he does.
I know I should feel more concerned about the way our relationship seems to be developing.
The last few weeks have been fun but also pretty nerve wracking. I’m living in a straw hut, praying that there isn't a hurricane.
I should get myself out before the inevitable storm, but I can’t.
I mean, I won’t.
I’m going down with this ship, for better or worse.
Ben hasn’t said a word about his feelings since that night in the tub, but I know he’s catching some. I sure am.
I can’t bring myself to broach the topic, even as the questions burn their way through my thoughts day and night. This thing between us is starting to feel real.
Even if it can’t go anywhere.
It’s so fucked up. You’re leading yourself straight into heartbreak.
But it’s more complicated than that. At least, I think it is. I mean, I know I’m a lying piece of shit who doesn’t deserve the guy next to me. Somehow, though, my brain has managed to talk me into believing that maybe he’ll see it differently. Maybe we can get through this after all.
Either way, the sand is ticking through the hourglass, and I can feel the pressure.
The time will come when someone tells Ben the truth, and I want that person to be me. I owe him that much after what an absolute gentleman he’s been.
