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“You don’t have to say anything,” Oliver says.
“Jonas should apologize for invading your privacy,” Tom adds.
Jonas holds his hands up, palms facing Allie, his eyebrows skyward. “I’m sorry, Allie. If that’s how you feel. I was genuinely looking for you, and then…well…my curiosity got the better of me.”
“It’s okay,” Allie says softly. “You know…it is kind of like I invaded your privacy, too.”
Jonas steps a little closer, rubbing his hand over his blond straight hair as though he’s tidying himself up before turning on the charm. “Did it feel good?” he asks, smooth and seductive. My eyes drift to Theron who’s folded his arms again, watching his thunder being stolen, but with a half-smile playing at his lips.
Allie raises her chin, ever defiant despite the circumstances. “It did,” she says. “Not that I have anything to compare it to.”
“But you could,” Theron says. “That’s what I was going to propose. We’re all here at your disposal, Allie. Forget the cold hard rubber of those things upstairs. You could find out the truth behind the question you’re trying to answer. Really put some depth into the article you're trying to write.”
Stefan snorts, ducking lower into the water so it laps over his shoulders. “Of course, it’s all about the pursuit of journalism,” he says. “Nothing to do with you wanting to get your rocks off.”
“Of course it’s about that, too. For all of us. I’m not made of stone and neither is Allie. I’m just painting a full picture.”
“So kind of you to be so thoughtful of my career,” Allie says dryly.
“You can’t tell me that after last night, you’re not intrigued to go further.” Everyone in the group is following the back and forth between Theron and Allie like an Olympic ping-pong final.
“Intrigued. That’s a word.”
“I get the feeling you feel bad for wanting to experience normal human sensations,” he says. “I mean, I get that there’s a lot of guilt-tripping out there about women and sex, but you write about this stuff all the time. Surely you don’t hold those feelings about your own life and experiences?”
“Check out Theron, the feminist.” Russell adjusts his cap on his head, something I’ve noticed him do whenever he speaks. “I think Allie’s had enough of our attention.”
Allie holds out a hand and rests it on Russell’s forearm, and a bolt of jealousy runs through me. It’s not like me to feel so furious about something like this. I don’t own Allie and she certainly doesn’t owe me a thing. But the touch of her palm is something I want for myself. “It’s okay, Russell. I don’t need anyone in this group to defend me. I’m perfectly capable of handling all of you.”
“I’m sure you are,” Jonas says with a wink.
“You think I couldn’t?” Allie asks, bristling with challenge. Her hair has begun to curl in the sun and breeze, and across her nose, a dusting of freckles is starting to form. With her jaw gripped with determination, she’s such a contrast of sweet and soft and hard and fierce. My ideal woman.
“It doesn’t matter what we think or want,” I say, finally finding my voice. “What matters is what you think and want. What my cousin is trying to say is that the ball is in your court, Allie. We can spend this week talking a lot about whatever you need to write your article. We’ll have a great time, and you can walk away with some new knowledge. Or, we can show you instead of tell you, and you can write the article from experience. The choice is yours.”
14
ALLIE
The choice is mine. Gabe managed to summarize the situation in a way that didn’t sound completely terrible, and I’m grateful.
The ball is in my court, but I feel like a rookie playing with ten champions. A ball girl tidying the court for ten legends. I’m so out of my league it’s laughable. But beneath my uncertainty is the memory of last night. It’s the partial knowledge I have that rests beneath my skin like the worst kind of temptation. It’s Natalie’s words and Dawn’s stories and every other hungry part of me that wishes I could just pick up my silverware and stuff my face like everyone else seems to be able to.
Dawn and I are not so different. We’re the same age, and roughly the same attractiveness level. We have the same level of education and similar family backgrounds in terms of money. And yet she’s open to every experience that comes her way, and all I can feel when faced with the same opportunity is fear.
There’s a level of risk that comes with every experience.
But what’s really the level of risk here? I’m not going to fall for any of these men in the remaining six days we have here. They’re all intending to go home and live their lives a little richer for the experience of spending time at this luxury beach house, answering my questions.
They could tell people what we did, but I don’t get that vibe about them, and I’m not famous enough for anyone to truly care. It would be my word against theirs, anyway.
I just feel so childish for having a problem with having sex, almost like it’s mentally held me in a place I was when I was in high school, nervous about prom and seeing the boy I liked in the hallway. The woman I want to be shouldn’t feel any of this.
“You don’t need to answer right away,” Gabe says, seeing my hesitation and wanting to smooth it away. He has such kind eyes, the type that suggests that he’s a good person through and through. I appreciate his care and consideration of my feelings as much as I find it infuriating that he can see through me so easily.
“How would it work?” I say, shocked that the question has found its way from a thought to something out there for the consideration of others.
“However you want it to,” Gabe answers, before anyone else has a chance. Theron, with his bulging muscles and clenched jaw, seems like he’d like to dictate the rules for everyone, but his cousin isn’t giving him the chance. Good for Gabe. The power dynamics in this place are crazy.
