Page 14 of The Cruise Back to You

He doesn’t argue. He just watches me dress. When I’m fully clothed, I lean down and give him one last kiss, slow and sweet and full of all the words I can’t say.

“Goodnight, Colter.”

“Goodnight, Robin.”

Jules is already in the cabin when I get back, lounging on his bed with his phone.

“There you are,” he says, sitting up. “How was your day?”

“Good.” I kick off my shoes and collapse onto my bed, hoping I don’t look as thoroughly kissed as I feel.

“Just good?” Jules raises an eyebrow. “You were out all day. Snorkeling, then dinner. That’s gotta be more than good.”

I think about our plan. The one Colter and I hatched this morning, about pretending to be back together to mess with Jules and Marc. I could do it right now. I could tell Jules that we’ve rekindled things, watch his face light up with triumph, let him think his scheme worked.

But I can’t.

I can’t pretend I have the one thing I really want. Colter. Because we agreed to keep things casual. If I give in to my holiday brain, ocean air, and close proximity, then my heart is going to break all over again.

And this time, it’ll be unmendable.

“It was just a nice day,” I say, rolling over to face the wall. “I’m tired. Goodnight, Jules.”

There’s a pause. “Goodnight, Robin.”

I close my eyes and try not to think about Colter’s hands on my skin, his mouth on mine, the way he looked at me like I was everything.

I fail completely.

Eight

Colter

The door clicks shut behind Robin, and I’m left staring at the ceiling, still catching my breath.

What just happened?

I know what happened. I can still taste him on my lips, still feel the ghost of his mouth on my skin. My body is loose and satisfied in a way it hasn’t been in months. Maybe I’m cum drunk, but I can’t shake the feeling that this was more than just physical release.

And I can’t be the only one feeling this way.

I can’t.

Robin kissed me like he meant it. He touched me like he’d been starving for it. And when he left, there was yearning in his eyes. I’ve known him long enough to know it.

Is vacation brain real? Or were we always meant to come back together like this and the cruise is just the catalyst that finally made it happen?

I think about Pine Ridge. The thought of going back to watching him from across the road, close enough to see but too far to touch, makes my chest ache. And the alternative is somehow worse. What if we go back as friends? What if I get to talk to him, see him, be near him, but nothing more?

I don’t think I can survive that.

The door beeps, and Marc walks in.

“Hey,” he says, tossing his keycard on the dresser. “You’re still awake.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” I sit up, pulling the sheet over my lap. “Where have you been?”

“Around.” Marc shrugs, but there’s something evasive in his tone. “Checked out the casino. Had a drink at the bar. You know.”