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“No, no. That’s great. It’s great.”
A smirk plays across his lips, probably because he just struck me incoherent. He double-checks the windows, and I gather a bundle of pajamas and toiletries and slip behind the safety of the bathroom door.
In the bathroom, I brush my teeth and apply lotion all over. I shaved in the shower earlier this evening, and my skin is smooth and silky.
Girlfriend, I’m not one to harp, but as your friend, you gotta deal with that. Seventies bush is fine if that’s your thing, but the bush can’t extend past the fence line. Trim that shit. Jimmy said that to me two years ago when we’d arrived on the river. I was in a one-piece, the kind lap swimmers use, so I already stood out in the field of bikinis and low cut one-pieces. I’d gone back to our stuff and slipped on my jean cut-offs to tube down the French Broad.
I glance down at my crotch. There are no hairs past the panty line. I’m not full bush anymore either. After Jimmy mortified me, I went online and bought a bikini trimmer and watched a YouTube video on trimming. But my dark curls are still pretty abundant. I didn’t really expect anyone would see them other than me. I mean, other than doctors. But they see everyone.
I want you. And if you were any other girl, I would’ve had you by now. That’s what Knox said. Again, treating me differently. I slip my long sleeve Carolina T-shirt over my head and look in the mirror.
My cheeks are flushed. My eyes are bright.
Knox being interested in me has been a fantasy. But if our kisses mean he’s interested, then why wouldn’t I take advantage of this?
Whether or not we find Sloane, I need to be back in Asheville. My job is in Asheville. My life is in Asheville.
I swish mouthwash and spit it out.
I’m always beating myself up, feeling like I’m not living enough for the person who gave me her organs. She died in a car wreck. Twenty-six years old. I am now older than she was.
Part of living is experiencing things, right? She’d want me to have sex, right?
Unlike Knox, I packed my pajamas. A long sleeve T-shirt with a crew neck and loose, light cotton pants. It’s probably the opposite of sexy. The clothes I packed are clothes I rarely wore so wouldn’t miss them when they were stowed away in the emergency duffel.
His declarations are going to my head. My nerves riot. My brain short circuits around him. I should go to sleep.
Knox is lying back on the bed, beneath the covers. He’s holding out his phone, reading something. His gaze cuts to me and I flick off the bathroom light.
“I left you the same side as before. Is that okay? I didn’t ask back at my place.” The moon is full and a pale light casts a glow across the room, intruding through the cracked shutters.
“Why would you?” I grin. “It was your place. I’m sure you don’t get many visitors who expect to share your bed.”
“I don’t get many visitors I would allow in my bed.” His hand slaps against the empty side of the duvet cover. He leans forward and tugs it and the sheet down, creating an opening for me.
I come around and slide in. The cool sheets chill my skin through the cotton PJs. In the bed, I roll onto my side, only to find he’s put the phone down and is on his side, facing me.
I could get lost in Knox. His sheer perfection. Topaz brown eyes, wavy dark hair that falls over his brow, lips that alternate between breathtakingly stern to relaxed in a nanosecond. Kick-ass Navy fighter to goofball. Or maybe he doesn’t transform into a goofball anymore. I just remember him that way, back before the stern kick-ass man infiltrated his psyche. He was the guy who’d follow Sam into my room on a mission to make me laugh.
Only, as he inches closer, he’s not stern. And there’s no trace of the jokester either.
I want you.
His stare is both covetous and hot. This moment is dreamlike. Tingles zap through me. I don’t want to blink. Swallow. Or do anything that might alter this mirage. When we find Sloane, I might have to thank her for getting herself into a mess.
His lips brush against mine and I close my eyes. Breathe. He nips. Licks. I open and our tongues meet in a slow and sweet reunion. He tastes like minty toothpaste, and I smell a whiff of freshness, like he reapplied deodorant. His leg brushes mine, and I wish I didn’t have these long pants on so I could feel the coarse hair along his legs. He’s so much bigger than me. Taller and broader. But lying down like this, beside him, it feels like we fit perfectly.
His thumb caresses my cheek. He lies his head down on the pillow. I’d like to keep kissing, but he smooths a finger over my lips.
“We’re going to take it slowly.”
“Why?” The question sounds a little whiny, and he chuckles.
“Because that’s what you deserve, golden girl.”
I’m not as perfect as everyone assumes.
“But, why?” I repeat, looking straight into his eyes. “We live on different coasts. I appreciate you wanting to treat me right, but…” Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, clarity lights. “You know, we aren’t guaranteed tomorrow. Only today. And of all days for that little saying to be true, I think a day when a bullet whizzed by it bears repeating.”
