Page 40 of Left of Forever

Oh, he’s diabolical. Stripping himself right down to the truth and laying it on the line. I’m defenseless against this brand of charm. I think of one of Sage’s wacky words she used the other week when she described Fisher doing something with homemade whipped cream.Dastardly.

“But,” he continues. “My favorite one that I thought was interesting wasn’t really a question but said to make three ‘we’ statements that you think are true in this moment, like… ‘Weare in line for the roller coaster, andweare feeling… excited.’” He gives me a questioning look.

“Okay.” I smile encouragingly. “Go on.” His returning expression is so damned vibrant, I bite my lip to stifle what would probably be a girlish giggle.

“Weare on this trip andweknow it is early, butweare feeling… cautiously optimistic?”

The laugh escapes through my nose, and I shake my head at him. “You’re impossible.”

“To resist? Thank you. We are…” He trails off when I lift my bikini tie from where it’s digging into my neck under the weight of my chest, seeking relief.

“We are . .?” I prompt.

“We are what?”

“Uh, you were in the middle of telling me what.”

“Right,” he barks, crossing his arms and firmly tucking his hands into his sides with his thumbs out. “We are… genuinely concerned about sun protection. Hand me the sunscreen.”

The gruff edge in his tone makes me drop my tie. He makes a faint, strangled noise at the recoil. The line starts to shift forward, so we coast with it until it stops again. We both push our sunglasses back on our heads when we make it into the shade of the building. When his eyes meet mine, I feel it like a flash-zap down my limbs, that moment your brain recognizes you’re touching hot metal. He puts his palm out, and I swear it looks like it’s shaking. I spin around to cover my gulp.

“In my backpack. Front pocket,” I say.

I feel the reverberations of him rifling around, and god, I must be touch-starved because he might as well be bending me over for what this alone is doing to me. The sound it makes when he squirts it into his palm is decidedly unsexy, but it does nothing to quell the warmth purling in every single one of my erogenous zones. I think my eyes roll back when his hand finally touches a spot between my shoulder blades.

He’s indecently slow and firm rubbing it in, pressing the tips of his fingers into knots and sliding the pad of his thumb beneath the edge of my tank top, gliding against the muscle beside my spine. When his big hands cup over my shoulders, I hum. Whenone hand slides up my neck beneath my bikini tie, I go weak in the knees. He massages the base of my skull, and I don’t even care that he’s probably getting sunscreen in my hair there—it’s fucking heaven. I want to lean back into him, want him to cup my breasts and lift and ease this ache, want this same massage on my lower back, loving me while I ride him in reverse—

“’Scuse me,” a voice says. Ellis and I jolt apart. “The line is moving,” the man behind us adds. He’s got his daughter held against his leg protectively and is giving us a horrified look. Ellis and I dart forward to make up ground, avoiding eye contact.

My heart is still racing by the time we’re called for our turn, which is also when we finally break. He snorts and I cackle, and if I closed my eyes, it would sound like us as kids, laughing and lust-dazed in the tiny back seat of a Jeep, neon lights from a Ferris wheel glowing in the distance.

When the lap bar comes down, I look at him and say, “Weare about to go on this roller coaster, andweare going to be okay.Weare happy we’re doing it together.”

His smile splits wider when he says, “We’re okay.”

We spend another four hours at the park, riding rides, playing games, and sampling a cornucopia of fried foods. After the erotic sunscreen application debacle, things between us stay PG-rated for the most part. When we grab sandwiches from the same café we got breakfast from, he leads me outside with his hand at my back, and I feel the echo of all the earlier heat. We eat our early dinner on the outdoor patio area, nod and smile at the same couple from this morning when they pass by.

“What do you want to do with the rest of the evening?” I ask Ellis when I slurp up the final dregs of my iced tea.

A thought insinuates itself suddenly, and I feel myself tense. I hope he doesn’t say, “Whatever you want to do,” and put the onus back on me like he once would have. We’re good and comfortable and making headway, and I hope we don’t fall back on old habits this soon.

He stretches his arms out wide and leans back in his seat, a strip of his stomach revealing itself, dusted in a dark trail of hair. His eyes are brighter against his suntanned skin. They’re the same shade as the darkening, dusky blue sky around us, backlit by a lemony sun.

He scratches at his five-o’clock shadow. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Byrd. I’d really love an early night.”

I make a joyous noise before it tumbles into a laugh. “God, nothing sounds better.”

Well,almostnothing sounds better.

Right now, we’re sun-cooked and pleasantly full. Sticky with sweat and sunscreen, mildly sore from being shaken around by rides, and tired from riding down memory lane. Optimal sleep conditions.

“And tomorrow’s flexible. We can sleep in or hit the pool in the morning before we leave. Whatever sounds good. Aquarium opens at eleven, and it’s an hour-and-a-half drive. We do have dinner reservations, but they’re not until seven,” he says. That leaves us all day.

We FaceTime Sam on the walk back, and my chest pinches at the easy delight on his face, like seeing us side by side excites him. It should absolutely make me wary, but that lonely, hopeful piece of my heart burns brighter at it instead.

God, I’m such a sucker for good feelings, aren’t I? Sweet, deep feelings that I lose myself in. I make a living out of doling them out in food form.

And I know our rooms are right next to each other, but when he walks me to my door, it feels like he’s just walked me home from our first date. I’m a little mortified by how badly I hope he might try to kiss me. I’m also worried that if he does, I’ll lose any remaining vestige of restraint. Self-regulating bargains fulfilled or not, I think moving too quickly in a physical direction might not be wise.