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I’m about to take her deafening silence as a no when the corner of her mouth ticks up into something that’s not-quite a smile and she pulls another bottle from the six pack by her side.
She watches me walk around the pool, pulls one leg from the water, and perches the heel of her foot on the curved edge. The closer I get the more difficult it gets not to stare at the expanse of smooth golden skin from her knee to where the frayed denim of her shorts sits so high, she might as well be wearing the silky pajama shorts she wears to sleep most nights. Which I now know she has in many, many different colors.
The tips of her thin fingers brush mine as she hands me the bottle, watching me out of the corners of her eyes. I take it and angle it, waiting for her to clink hers against it. A weird automatic action that seems to amuse a tiny non-miserable smile from her when her stare finally makes contact with mine and the bottom of our bottles clink. Cheersing should always come with eye contact—for luck. A useless fact I shared with her the very first night we met. A useless fact I’m pretty sure she’s remembering right now.
“So,” I mutter after taking a drink of my not-quite-as-cold-as-it-should-be beer. “What’s up?”
“What makes you think something’s up?” She goes back to staring at the water, her elbow resting on her bent knee.
“Your face.” I shrug, watching her, that tightness in my chest pulsing at her proximity. We may be sleeping together, but outside of that, our paths have rarely crossed all week. Her floral scent swirls with the chemical tang of chlorine. Roses, maybe, no lighter, lavender, fuck knows, it’s just her. It does something to the nerve endings in the back of my neck—sets them on edge in the most addictive way.
“Seems everybody is an expert in my looks today.” Her cheeks puff out before she releases her breath but doesn’t look up from the water.
Something tugs in my chest at the sight of her usually bright eyes downcast. “Talk to me.”
She presses her lips together and shakes her head, finally meeting my stare. “Fine… I had plans, okay? Big plans. Plans that would have changed my life.”
“But?”
“Money.” She chews her lip.
“Find another way.”
Her brows knit, a V forming between them. “It’s not that easy.”
“Every good plan has a backup.”
“A plan B?” She shakes her head again, that miserable smirk back. “Kinda tricky when the people I need to believe in me don’t.”
“Fuck them. Who says you need anybody to believe in you? I’ve seen a recruit nobody thought would amount to anything give his life to save his team. I’ve seen a young girl talk her mom down from detonating a suicide bomb that would have taken out her whole block. Shit doesn’t get done riding on the beliefs of other people. It gets done riding onyourbeliefs andyourintegrity.”
She drags her hair back from her face with a sweep of her hand, then lets it fall back around her shoulders. “When you put it like that, my plan’s really not that big.”
The snort that leaves me has her shaking her head with her own puff of laughter. I finish my beer. Watch the brightness flicker in her face again, and her smile start to spread.
I smile too. I can’t help it. “For what it’s worth—I believe in you.”
Her laugh is short, her face sobering. “I find that hard to believe.” Her almost smile drops slowly with another of those defeated little sighs I’m really beginning to dislike. “If you did, you wouldn’t have…” She licks her lips, her gaze dropping for a millisecond to my mouth before she blinks it back up again. “You know what? This is stupid. Maybe she’s right. I’m not exactly known for my stellar decision-making skills.”
“Don’t do that.” My forehead’s tight with the intensity of my stare on her face as if by staring harder, she’ll take what I have to say as truth. “You can do anything you put your mind to, Kenzi. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
Seconds tick by. I don’t look away. Neither does she. And with each one that passes, my heart thumps louder, my pulse keeping time in my throat. It would be so easy to tuck her hair behind her ear—to clasp the back of her neck and pull her to me—to kiss her until there was no doubt over the truth of my words.
Her gaze moves over my face. My heart thumps even harder. A week of sleeping beside her—of having her wrapped around me and failing to convince myself I don’t want to take it further—it steals all of my reasons and pushes me closer to her.
“Don’t,” she whispers like she can read my mind. “Not if you’re gonna disappear on me again.”
I pull back. Drag my hand over my mouth. “Kenzi, I—”
“Can I ask you a question?” She returns her attention to the label on her bottle. “What happened?”
My heart thumps again. I scratch my chest. “Dad had a heart attack. He needed me at home.”
I feel the weight of her stare but don’t look up. We both know that’s not what she meant.
She shifts beside me, and I can sense her pulling away again, pulling back—protecting herself—from me.
I grind my teeth against doing the same. Shutting down—self-preservation. “I’m 5th generation military.” I clear my throat. Take another drink. “My future was a given the second I was born. Expectations. Fucking pressure from the second I could talk.” I jut my chin and look up into the clear night sky, probably as surprised as she is by my admission. It’s not what she was asking but it’s not a lie either.
