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Heat gathers in my chest, and I take a deep, steadying breath. I know the look Leandra is talking about because the way Ben looks at me has practically been my undoing.
I don’t know how he does it, but somehow, Ben makes me feelseen.Which is quite the accomplishment because I am very good at hiding.
“Are you honestly going to sit here and let those women think they might have a chance with him?” Leandra asks, tilting her head toward where it looks like Ben is trying—andfailing—to extricate himself from the clutches of the two women and their gel-tipped nails.
“Are you telling me to stake my claim?” I shake my head. “Because you already know we’re not really dating.”
Leandra hums. Which only makes me want to protest more. Of course, if I do, then I’ll be the lady who protests too much, and anyone who’s ever studied Shakespeare knows what a mistakethatis.
I don’t admit to Leandra that when I was downstairs changing into my swimsuit, I had every intention of marching back up here and leaning into the girlfriend role—HARD. If anyone on this boat needs to believe Ben and I are together, these women definitely do.
But then I came up here and saw the women up close, my willpower immediately evaporated, and I detoured over to Leandra. Sweet, safe Leandra.
Who, right now, is still being sweet but feels a lot lesssafe. Not when she’s challenging me to stake a claim over a man I definitely don’t have the right to.
But it isn’t that easy. I’ve never been in competition with a supermodel—a woman who has walked on runways in Milanand New York and Paris, whose breasts defy gravity, whose genetic code probably rejected cellulite in utero. I’m all about body positivity, and on any normal Tuesday, I will feel nothing but positive about all the bodies. But the longer I sit here watching these women, the less positive I feel aboutmine.
I don’t like this reality, but itisreality.
“If not for you, consider Benedict. He sure looks like he could use a rescue,” Leandra says, tipping her chin toward Ben. “Is that the look of a man who’s happy being pawed at by supermodels?”
Bendoeslook uncomfortable. In fact, his eyes meet mine, and I swear he tries to blink out some kind of message. Too bad I don’t know Morse code. Good effort, though!
“Sadie, they’ve got nothing on you,” Leandra says, her voice low. “Go get him.”
“Fine,” I say. “But it’s for Ben. Not because I need to or because I feel … or because I’m—whatever. It’s forhim.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Leandra murmurs.
Buoyed by her encouragement, I stand up, adjusting the cut-offs I put on over my suit, and walk toward Ben, channeling Merritt’s confidence and Eloise’s charm.
As soon as I reach him, I stop thinking and let momentum carry me forward.
Ben wanted to kiss me last night—I’m almost sure of it—so I have to believe he won’t be mad about this.
“Hey,” I say in my softest, sultriest voice.
Ben startles a little as I slip my arm around his waist, my free hand pressing against his bare chest—a definiteclaiming. I might as well have tattooed my name on his neck.
Ben is just starting to smile as I push onto my tiptoes and kiss him right on the mouth. After all, Leandra saidgo get him,and I have never been a woman who does things by halves.
It isn’t much as far as first kisses go, but that’s completely intentional. I want it to look like a hello kiss. The kind of kiss you give someone when you’ve already kissed them a million times.
Ben’s lips are warm and soft and yielding, and he kisses me back with an easy comfort that belies the fact that we’ve never actually done this before. There is a brief moment when it almost tips the scales past hello and more intoHEL-loterritory, but I break away, forcing a smile I hope looks natural. On the outside, I think I pull it off.
On the inside, I am a riot of emotions. Because something sparked when our lips touched. A fuse lit. Desire ignited. And now all I can think about is kissing him again.
Not here, obviously, with three women watching us, their perfectly arched eyebrows lifted in surprise. Not for show. Not to make a point.
But just because I want to. Somewhere private though. Where we can be unhurried, where we can explore whatever it is we felt when we kissed. Because the look in Ben’s eyes says he absolutely felt it too.
The voice in my head starts to protest, ringing all kinds of annoying alarm bells and shouting loud, royal-we warnings.No! That isnotwhat we want. We do not want to be alone with Ben, exploring and unhurrying anything at all.But I’ve been pretty good at ignoring warnings lately, so I silence the voice and lean into Ben’s embrace, smiling wide.
“Sorry it took me so long to change,” I say. “I couldn’t find my swimsuit top. Somehow it wound up under your bed.”
I giggle, hating myself a little as I do, because I’m pretty sure I sound like I could be part of the gaggle.
Ben must be an incredible actor because he doesn’t even flinch. His grin, however, stretches to match mine. I’m going to hate myself later for this lie.
