“And?” I pressed.
“Well, that’s when he went all silent and his cheeks flushed and he started blushing and saying stuff like, maybe he’s met someone, but it was complicated, and he wasn’t sure, and . . .”
“Wait. He said he wasn’t sure?”
“Yes,” they replied.
“Really?” I thought for a while. What exactly did that mean, though? That he wasn’t sure about me? Wasn’t sure about kissing me? And why was it complicated? And did he even mean me? I mean . . .
I felt a lot like Sheik Khalifa when Amanda Stone accidentally walked into his bedroom in the middle of the night, looking for the kitchen. How tormented he was with thoughts that he couldn’t make sense of.
“Well, thanks.”
They nodded. “Cool. We got your back, girl.”
I smiled. Wow, no one had ever said that to me before, and I wanted to hug these two girls in front of me who I didn’t even know, but suddenly felt close to. Felt some sisterly bond with. Some “girls must stick together” feeling that, until this moment, had never existed in my life. And then a loud shout cut through the air.
“SWIM!” someone yelled.
“Oh my God, yes!” The twins clapped their hands excitedly and started rushing towards the sea.
“Aren’t you coming?” they shouted at me as they sprinted forward.
“Uh . . . now? In the dark? The sea?” I stared at the mass of black water in front of me.
“Yes,” they shrieked. “Come!”
“Okay!” I shouted, and then looked for Noah. I scanned the crowd of people and, finally, a pair of blue eyes caught my attention.
“Meet you there,” he shouted across the beach as we ran towards the water. I looked in front of me. The twins had started peeling their clothes off, exposing bikinis underneath. I certainly wasn’t going to peel any of my clothes off. Never. And I was sure Noah felt the same way. I looked back at him to have this confirmed, only it wasn’t. And that’s when it happened . . .
CHAPTER 55
In slow motion, the whole world went silent, everyone else disappeared and a light broke through the dark sky above and illuminated Noah from the heavens. I stood dead still, digging my toes into the sand, gripping at it, in case I was going to fall over as Noah peeled—and I mean, that was the only way to describe it—a long, slow, deliberate peeeeeel of his shirt from his muscled torso. I watched, fairly bloody gobsmacked, as he shook his head, his hair flopping from side to side, and then he turned, scrunched the T-shirt up into a ball, which made all the muscles in his arms and torso ripple, and then tossed it across the sand. My jaw sort of dangled open and I realized precisely what I was doing: drooling over a man. I hope Noah didn’t turn around and see me . . .
“Shit!” I slapped my hands over my eyes and started running back towards the sea as Noah turned and his eyes zoned in on mine, as if he knew exactly what I’d been doing. Mortified, I kept on running towards the sea, swept up in the flurry of feet and excitement, but all I really wanted to do was turn around and look at him again, and so I did. I think I caught a one-second glimpse of a shirtless, running Noah before I was no longer running. I was flying. Or maybe it was falling. It was definitely falling, as my foot caught on some driftwood, and I started to tumble. If I hadn’t been craning my neck backwards to perv at Noah, I would have been looking at the ground in front of me and would not now be lying face down in the sand.
“Crap!” I said, regretting it instantly as little bits of sand went into my mouth and crunched between my teeth.
“You okay?” I looked up to find Noah standing over me.
“Yes. Cool. Just, you know, slipped.” I turned around to face him. He held his hand out for mine and, as if I was nothing but a wisp of air, he pulled me to my feet.
“Sure you’re okay?” he asked again and then did something that rendered it impossible to answer him. He brushed some sand from my cheek.
“Aahhm mmmm . . . nnnn.” Ridiculous sounds came out of my mouth. They were an attempt to answer his question, but it no longer felt like my lips worked enough to form words, not since his fingertips had brushed them.
He smiled. It was that one where that tiny gap showed and made him look so warm and approachable. The smile caused me to smile, although I don’t think mine was as cool as his; I think mine was more of a starstruck, awe-inspired smile, which I felt a little embarrassed about. Me, an almost-thirty-year-old woman, acting like a teenage girl with a crush . . .
Mind you, this was something I’d missed growing up. So, I guess my maturity level for such things was probably on par with a teenage girl crushing over the hot guy with the big muscles and no shirt.
And then I think my whole body forgot how to work as he pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, which was totally unnecessary, as my hair was so short it didn’t even stay behind my ear.
“So, shall we go?” He took a step back and held his hand out once more. I looked down at it. I’d held it a few times already, a few seconds ago, but why did it feel different this time? Like there was an underlying question implied in the holding out of his hand that made it different. And when I slipped my fingers through his, itdidfeel different. The way he looked down at my hand before slowly closing his fingers around it, and then giving them a squeeze that felt different to the squeezes of before. It wasn’t a reassuring squeeze like it had been with the stitches, or the ambulance. This squeeze was different.But what makes a squeeze feel so different?I didn’t quite know, but I knew it had nothing to do with the physical squeeze itself, and everything to do with the intention behind it. I shivered. Yes, it was slightly chilly. A slight autumn chill in the air and the breeze coming off the sea added to this. But that’s not why I shivered.
“Come,” he said, his voice a whisper now.
I nodded. I couldn’t speak. It was as if his words had stolen my tongue right out of my mouth.
