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I swallow the lump in my throat, desperate to escape this conversation. The food—appetizing moments ago—has lost its appeal, and I’m suddenly not hungry at all.
He lights up another smoke, taking a drag before throwing the packet down.
“I hate that you smoke,” I say out loud, angrily.
His eyes go wide with curiosity. He removes the cigarette from his mouth and puts in out on the ground. The packet of smokes in his pocket, he takes out and throws into the pool. I watch it float on top of the water, soaking until it begins to sink, slightly.
“There, happy?”
“Don’t do it for me. Do it for your health,” I argue back.
“I can never make you happy,” he raises his voice in frustration. “Honestly, Milana. What do I need to do for you to stop being so unhappy when you’re with me?”
“I just don’t know you!” I shout, in my defense. “You’re nothing like Liam—”
“No, I’m not,” he states, slamming his fist on the table which makes the cutlery jump. “I proposed to Em because the producers told me I had to do it, for the ratings. Yes, I did love her, but I hurt her. We both fell into that reality world and have that connection. I do still love her, always will, but not in the way I feel about—” He cuts himself off with a blazing stare before continuing, “I did cheat on her, and that’s my fault. I’ve done bad things. I don’t know why. And I’ll probably continue to do bad things. Maybe there’s no hope for me… I don’t know. Or maybe my savior is the person sitting right in front of me.”
It’s a powerful thing to be called a savior, a title that holds so much meaning yet something that frightens me. I have my own problems, my own worries. I’m not here to fix Wesley Rich. I’m here to forget I have my own issues to deal with.
“We should do something fun,” I blurt out, smiling as I look directly at him.
“This is not fun?” He appears slightly offended and thrown off by my change of tone.
“It’s fun… but I’m thinking something wild.”
“Wild?”
I remove my dress with a cheeky grin, watching as Wesley gazes with curiosity. Dressed in only my white bra and panties, I’m quick to remove those pieces, baring my body for him.
“I could think of many things that involve you being naked and the word wild,” he teases, leaning back into his chair, running his eyes up and down my body.
“Try and catch me.” I giggle, running from the table and diving into the pool.
The cold water graces my skin, a quick shock to the system as I hold my breath under the water before coming back up. I’ve always wanted to swim naked, secretly, in my fantasies. I’d never done it. And this rush—the one throwing all caution to the wind and living for just this moment—is everything I need right now.
As I take a few breaths, the water rocks with such force as Wesley dives in straight after me causing the waves to build. The shadow of his body is underwater until he comes up right in front of me. Unable to stop the squeal that comes out of me, I struggle to release myself from the ticklish behavior of his hands under the water.
“Stop.” I laugh uncontrollably, squirming around beneath his touch. “I’m ticklish.”
Wesley stops, standing calmly. “You never tell a tickler you’re ticklish.”
My laughter dwindles to a smile.
“I forfeit.” I raise my hands in the air. “You’ve got me. You’ve won.”
“Have I?”
“Yes, I just told you that you won.”
“Do I have you… all of you?” he questions, almost a plea.
The hazel of his eyes is staring back at me, deep and meaningful waiting for me to answer this question. We’re dating—that’s it. I don’t want to confess to him that in only the short time I have been with him, he has made me feel more alive than I have ever felt in my entire life. Every moment we spend together makes me fall harder, and that part, I want to keep to myself.
“Wesley…” I lower my tone, resting my hand on his chest. “You’re something.”
“Something? Like something awful? Bad?”
“Terrifying,” I slip, my guard falling to pieces. “I don’t know how to stop—”
