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I never imagined it would actually be like this: a vacation rental we’re only staying in because we got stranded on an island together. This situation is the only reason we’re even talking to one another again. Perhaps it’s the only reason he’s even trying to get me to forgive him.
But what about the kiss? How does that fit into whatever plan he has? Does he think I’ll forgive him if he—if he seduces me?
Seduce—Christ. My thoughts make me sound like an eighty-five-year-old grandma.
“Angel?” he asks.
I turn to look at him and see that the water has already boiled while I’ve been lost in thought.
“I didn’t sleep at all,” I say, hating the tone of my own voice. Scared. Unsure.
“Why do you think that is?” His voice is gentle. Kind.
It makes me want to cry.
“Sometimes there’s no reason,” I say. “I just can’t sleep. But normally it happens because I’m processing everything that happened during the day. And I guess we’ve had, um, a lot going on. What with being stranded.”
I don’t mention that the real reason my thoughts have been occupied is him. I can’t sleep because I keep replaying the moment earlier today when he kissed me. When he tipped my chin upwards with his hands, and laid his lips on mine. When he made it clear to me that he’s not dating anyone else.
I’m not too stupid to understand what that, at least, means. He wants me. Again. I just can’t figure out why—to what end.
“We’ve had a rough time,” he says. “But I hope you manage to sleep tonight.”
“I’ll try doing some meditation or something,” I say, giving him a smile that I hope seems reassuring.
He sets the tea down next to me on the nightstand and as he does it, the cotton of his t-shirt brushes against my arm and Icatch a whiff of his comforting scent. Desire pools in my stomach and I can’t help but think of one of the main ways I get myself to fall asleep: getting myself off.
“Should we watch a movie?” he asks.
And then he settles himself on the bed next to me. He’s not that close because it’s enormous, but he has his legs spread slightly, and his foot knocks into mine.
“Sure,” I say. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Something lighthearted?”
I notice that his brows are pressing inwards slightly, as if something is upsetting him. And his mouth, normally curved into an easy half smile, is a flat line across his face.
“Are you upset?” I venture, needing to know if I’ve done something to hurt him.
“No, not upset,” he says.
“You can tell me. Whatever it is. I won’t judge.” I stare at the TV, where the reality program I’ve muted plays on. Maybe if I don’t look at him he’ll feel more comfortable talking about it. I never like talking to people about my feelings when I have to make eye contact with them—maybe he’s the same.
After a beat or two of silence, he says, “It’s my parents. I called my mom earlier.”
I try to picture Carter’s mom in my head and come up with nothing. Despite living in our tiny town for years, I don’t think I’ve ever met her. I don’t say anything, and just let him fill in the silence if he wants to.
“There’s nothing wrong with my parents. With the way they treat me,” he says. “I really mean that.”
“Okay.” I can tell he’s serious—he doesn’t want me to judge them, or him, for whatever he’s about to say.
“They’ve supported me so well throughout my PhD and in the years before. I had all these opportunities because they made sure I went to science camp and had SAT tutors. They neverdiscouraged my love for science and nature and always let me explore it.” He doesn’t say anything else for a long moment. “But they also don’t really know me, at all.”
“Why is that?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath. “It’s like this,” he says. “By the time I was eight, and they had my sister, it was pretty clear I could take care of myself. Every day I got myself up on time for school and did well in all my classes. When I got home, I did my homework immediately, and I always made honor roll. On the weekends, I played with friends or spent time outside, and I never really asked them for anything. We didn’t have many fights. I didn’t throw temper tantrums. I was an easy kid to raise.”
“So what? Being easy means they never got to know you?”
