I’m more alive than I have been in a long time, like all it took was Abby’s delight and a little EDM to wake me up from a deep, dreamless slumber.
By the time the song is over, Abby’s hair is half wet from sweat and her skin is glistening. I gesture for water, and she nods. I hold out my hand to her and she takes it, clutching it as we weave through the crowd. Once we’re on the other side, she drops it. We make it past the speakers facing the dance floor so the beat of the song isn’t drowning out everything else, and the rest of the world comes back to me: the ocean waves, the chatter of scattered conversations, Abby’s heavy breathing.
I point her to an empty table and pick up two bottles of water for us at the bar. I find her leaning on the table, still a little out of breath.
“Drink,” I say, opening her water bottle and holding it out to her. She takes it from my hand, her fingertips grazing mine, andtilts her head back, chugging the water. I do the same, but watch her to make sure she’s drinking enough.
When she comes up for air, she gulps in a few breaths, and I realize she and I are standing close enough that her chest brushes against mine with every inhale. I can smell the salty night air on her, and something floral that’s familiar to me but I can’t place. Jasmine? Magnolia? Whatever it is, it’s distinctly her, and I lean in to get more of it.
She’s been holding my gaze, but now her eyes bounce to my lips and then back to my eyes.
Did she just…look at my lips? Was she thinking about kissing me?
Raw, primal desire rips through me, and I have to clench every muscle in my body to ignore the ache to do anything about it.
Her lips part, her top teeth catching her bottom lip, and I swear she sways toward me, but then she’s shuffling backwards, smoothing out her dress and clearing her throat.
“I should go. I have an early excursion and need to shower and get some sleep.”
Disappointment pinches at my stomach, but I don’t say anything. I’d keep her here all night if I could.
“Let me walk you back,” I say.
“No, no, I’m okay. I think I sweat out all the alcohol anyway.”
I would insist, but I don’t want to push my luck. That she spent the evening with me of her own free will was more than I could ask.
“Thanks for the dance,” I say, and her face breaks into the kind of smile that I’ll be thinking about for days.
“I’ll see you around, Miles.”
And I hope to god it’s true.
I thought it would be enough to just apologize and leave her alone, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to stay away from thiswoman. I want to be around her, to watch her eyes light up when I make her laugh, to watch her lips twitch and her cheeks pink when I flirt with her. To watch her take in all the joy the world has to offer and watch it transform her from the inside out.
I know what it’s like to want something I can’t have. After my injury, I wanted to go back to hockey more than I wanted anything. I made every effort to get back into that world, but in the end, I had to give it up.
I know I’ll never have her, but that fact does not seem to be stopping my desperate heart from wanting her. And if seven days is all I get just to be in her presence, then seven days is what I’ll take.
8
ABBY
Kissing does not usually scare me, but last night I thought about kissing Miles, and that scares me.
It was inevitable, really. I saw him at the beach party last night and he looked so handsome in his linen-looking top and shorts that showed off enough of his thighs to make me clench my own. I couldn’t help but go talk to him, and from there it was a slippery slope. The talking, the flirting—and then there was dancing, and even though the alcohol had worn off, the adrenaline had not.
And he was standing so close and he smelled like sweat and vanilla and those warm spices he always smells like and my body was screaming at me to for god’s sake smash my mouth against his and just get it over with.
But good sense caught me at the right time, and I used what little self-restraint I had to get my ass out of there and back to my room, straight to the shower, where I relieved all that pent-up sexual tension myself. Maybe next time I should…take care of myselfbeforeseeing Miles so I don’t have this problem.
I shift in my seat, directing my thoughts elsewhere. I’m on a bus full of people on the way to the stingray swim excursion anddon’t need to be thinking about Miles or taking care of myself right now. Even if I am sitting by myself.
I lean against the cool glass of the window, watching the world pass by. It hasn’t been so bad flying solo, not as bad as I thought it would be. While there are a ton of couples everywhere at the resort, there are also a lot of groups of friends, and I think there’s at least one group of senior citizens. I’ve enjoyed my solitude, or what I’ve had of it when Miles isn’t around, but boarding the bus this morning for the stingray excursion was the first time since my first day that I really felt out of place and wished I’d had a companion with me. This was supposed to be my honeymoon, after all, and sitting by myself on the bus where most of the seats were filled with couples was more of a punch in the chest than I expected it to be.
I’ve been trying to nap, but my mind is circling, thinking about last night. And not just how tempted I was to kiss him, but also about how easy it was to talk to him. He’s fun and he makes me laugh and blush, yet it’s more than that. I didn’t even think twice about telling him about the graphic design program.
It feels safe to want things with Miles, because it was in college. He never made me feel silly or small for dreaming. I think that’s why it felt easy to open up to him. It’s not that Hazel has made me feel small or weird about anything, of course, and if I told her, I know she’d be super supportive. But telling Hazel feels so real, and being here in Cabo, removed from my actual life, it doesn’t feel real here. And Miles isn’t part of my real life back at home. I might as well have whispered my secret into a shell and thrown it into the ocean. I’m not going to leave here with the pressure to decide from Miles, but I know Hazel would ask about it every time we talked. And I’m just…not ready for that yet. Especially if it isn’t real.
