Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Dad offers me his hand. “Want to dance?”
“Sure, Dad,” I say. “That sounds nice.”
We dance together, and all the while, I try to forget what happened with his best man.
I try to block it from my mind.
“This doesn’t mean I loved your mother any less,” Dad says quietly as the song slows down. “I want you to know that.”
I’m startled by his words but it’s my fault for moping. I can’t blame dad for coming to this conclusion.
“I know that,” I tell him fiercely. “I’m happy for you and Sonya, really. I think it’s the jetlag.”
And there it is, the first lie, and I didn’t even mean to tell it. It just came out.
I wish I could take it back already.
“Tomorrow will be better after a good night’s sleep,” he says. “We’re going out on the boats in the morning for a little sightseeing tour of the neighboring islands.”
“That sounds really, really great,” I say, with probably too much enthusiasm.
I hate this, not knowing how to act around him. It’s so much worse than when Banner and I almost kissed.
Even if I’ve showered, I wonder if dad can smell his best friend on me.
I’m relieved when the dance is over, and dad dances with Sonya instead.
I get another drink. Glad Mila’s on the dance floor, too, not letting me drag her mood down.
Standing at the table, I happen to look across the party.
Banner is there, standing at the edge of the lights, alone. He’s staring right at me. We’re closer than we were before, and I can make out the passion in his face, the need to stride over here, to grab me, kiss me.
I stare at him in response, and he smirks. I can’t help but smile.
But then I turn away, knowing anyone could spot us and figure out what is happening.
Approaching the buffet table, my phone buzzes from the pocket of my jeans.
I take it out.
That was rude.
I laugh, feeling more in the party spirit from this text than I have all night. It brings back the earlier memories, the kiss, and everything else.
Imagine that, Banner. I have to be the mature one.
I’d laugh, he replies a moment later. But it’s the truth. You’ve got me thinking all kinds of crazy thoughts, Brooke.
My body returns to the meeting in the grove, the sensations touching me again. I look across the party, watching as Banner talks with Uncle Clive.
The two of them talking drives deep how surreal this is and completely unacceptable.
We were hiding from Uncle Clive not that long ago.
And even so, I text Banner again. What sort of thoughts?
It takes a while for Banner to respond. In the meantime, I do my best to make small talk with one of dad’s work friends. She’s the one who originally suggested a job at the shelter. She used to work there, and normally, speaking with her is easy, but I find it difficult to focus.
Even talking about dogs, which I could usually do for hours, is hard. It becomes even more difficult when I feel the satellite phone vibrate in my pocket.
My hands twitch for it as if I need his words to survive.
It is kind of true. I need him, or it feels that way.
Finally, I excuse myself and head to the restrooms, a small wooden building near the first pier. They’re clean and smell faintly of vanilla.
In the stall, I sit on the toilet seat, taking out my phone and staring at Banner’s words.
Don’t ask me that. You know what sort of thoughts you’ve got me thinking. If I start explaining it to you, I’ll lose control. I’ll grab you in front of everybody and kiss you…kiss you like you DESERVE to be kissed.
And how’s that? I text back, heart pounding heavily, body yelling at me to make it happen, consequences be damned.
Like you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Which you are.
Come on now.
I mean it, he texts back. Fuck, I’m going crazy just thinking about you. Where did you go?
The restroom, I reply. And thank you for saying that. It means a lot.
I leave out what I want to add, that his words mean a lot coming from him specifically. I haven’t told him about the crush, and I’m not sure I will.
Here, now, it’s all that matters.
“No,” I say aloud because it’s like I have to remind myself.
Dad’s wedding is all that matters.
Don’t be surprised. You’re curvy in all the right places. Your face is cute and gorgeous and confident and shy all at once. Your hair is thick and makes me want to run my hands through it. You’re more attractive without makeup than any woman could be with it.
My cheeks hurt from smiling, but instinct hisses at me, telling me to be distrustful. Maybe it’s because I’ve fantasized about him saying these sorts of things to me before….