“What about you?” Sav asks me.
I nod.
Marina turns to Dayton. “For you?”
“Can I get a Cuba Libre?”
“Sure can. Be right back.” Marina walks away.
He doesn’t release my thigh or give any indication of what’s happening under the table to the rest of the group. I keep thinking Sav is going to see it since she’s on our side of the table, but she’s leaning forward and chatting with the girls, oblivious to how quiet I’m being.
He adds pressure, squeezing the top of my thigh a little tighter, his fingers brushing over the sensitive skin on the inner side. I didn’t know thighs could be erogenous zones, but I must be wrong because whatever he’s doing is turning me on.
This is fucked up! What are you doing, letting him touch you like this?
I’m seconds away from brushing him off when it hits me.
He’s messing with me. This is a game to him.
I grit my teeth. It all makes sense now. Dayton knows I broke things off with Axel because he didn’t care about having sex with me, and now he’s trying to confuse me with thesesuggestivetouches that my boyfriend didn’t even care to give me.
I don’t have any idea of what he expects to gain from this stupid little game, but two can play at this. He would know he got to me if I let him see that I’m affected enough to put a stop to it, so I just have to pretend I don’t care.
Thighs are not erogenous. This is not turning me on.
I exhale, steadying myself. I put up with Dayton for two years. I let him get under my skin the entire time. We have a few months left until the house is ready. I can’t allow him the satisfaction of knowing he still affects me.
He doesn’t stop touching me until the end of the night when we all get up to leave. My bikini bottoms are shamefully soaked through.
chapter fourteen
Summer
Monday morning comes with a welcome relief. I had a fun weekend, but I’ve gotten too used to my solitude. My birthday is in two days. I’ve been trying not to think about it.
After starting a load of laundry and taking a leisurely walk on the beach with coffee to enjoy the sunrise, I do some stretching on the back porch while waiting for Jack to arrive.
He’s been to the bungalow before to take measurements of the space, so he knows to just come around to the back to meet me. When he appears on the side yard of the house, I stand up from my yoga mat and greet him with a hug.
Jack is a few inches taller than me. His curly black hair brushes his broad shoulders. His bright smile is contagious.
“How are you, Jack?”
“Can’t complain. Glad a lot of the tourists from Marg Fest left. Traffic was nuts.” He walks up to the mural space and puts a piece of painter’s tape on one end.
“How’s Lala?”
“She’s great. Getting further along, almost halfway now. She’s been working on her book a lot, trying to finish before the baby comes.”
“That’s great. I didn’t know she was a writer.”
“She’ll be a bestseller one day.” He grins proudly before turning toward the wall. “Okay, so, I have the mock-ups, and I’m going to mark where it will start and end with the tape so you can see.”
He sets his folder down on the ground and uses the tape to mark each end of the cinder-block wall. He grabs the ladder lying on the ground by the porch he left here and marks the top boundary.
“Okay, you ready to see it?”
I nod, eager to see what he came up with. We walk over to the old patio table that was left here by previous owners. He takes the folder from me and opens it up to reveal the mock-up drawings for the mural.
