Insta-Hate, Hijinks & Happy Endings
Page 61
There’s an intense knowing that she belongs with me, but I’ve been in denial.
So much fucking denial.
Of course, I knew I was attracted to her. I thought it was lust, but this is something else. It’s primal and deep. It rings in my bones and throughout my body. It tells me this woman is mine.
Mine.
“Gio?” Sophia says again.
The sound of my name on her lips breaks through my hazy thoughts. Her baby blues flash to mine. It’s only then I realize I never answered.
What do I think of the hairband?
“Try this one.” I snag a pink hibiscus from the display. With gentle touches, I sweep aside her cornsilk hair and clip the barrette into place. The flower sits behind her left ear, signaling to everyone that she’s taken.
“You’re perfect.” I place my hands on her shoulders and squeeze. Beneath my palm, goose bumps rise on her skin.
Sophia stares into the mirror, but she isn’t looking at the flower. With her lips parted, she’s focused on my hands. They’re moving over her skin, smoothing away the pebbles.
“I think . . .” She swallows and starts again. “I think I like it,” she whispers. She snags her teeth over her bottom lip.
My fingertips glide over her shoulders to trace the lines of her arms. I cup my hand over tiny shivers and worry I’m going too far. But then Sophia leans into my chest, and her heat merges with mine.
I close my eyes and inhale, savoring this moment. I drop my chin onto her head and open my eyes. This time, I see something different. We are one. Connected. There’s an acceptance growing between us.
Something is happening.
“Would you like that one?” The vendor approaches, breaking our trance.
“We’ll take every color and every headband.” My hands fall away to remove my wallet.
“You don’t have to.” Sophia rushes to dig into her tote.
“I can buy you flowers.” I hand over the cash and then watch her mannerisms as she becomes confused.
“Another peace offering?” One corner of her lip tugs.
“As many as it takes,” I say with a grin.
After exploring the festival, we sit on a bench overlooking Waimea Bay and eat shaved ice. When I’m focused on a street performer, Sophia drops a handful of ice inside the collar of my shirt. I shoot to my feet and wiggle around until the freezing goo drops out the other side.
Behind me, Sophia laughs, one hand covering her mouth.
“Now you’ve done it!” I turn to her with hungry eyes.
She squeals, jumps up, and hurries through the crowd. When I have her cornered between a balloon cart and the kids’ activity corner, she ducks inside a nearby ladies’ room.
“Chicken!” I call.
Sophia’s laughter echoes from within the concrete walls, and it takes all my willpower not to follow her, learn if she’s ticklish, and make her laugh more.
As I wait, I lean against a koa tree trunk, scheming multiple comebacks, but my smile never leaves my face. Being with her makes me happy. Playing with her makes me happy.
Seeing her happy makes me happy.
Sophia peeks around her cinderblock compound. While she was inside, I was tempted by the children’s water toys. I even picked up a bright pink water balloon and tossed it in my hand several times, but I couldn’t bring myself to harm one hair on her pretty head. I’ve gone soft for her. Fast.
“You’re safe. For now.” I dig my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching for her. All of a sudden, I don’t want to scare her off . . . I want to entice her into my lair.