From the Jump(19)

It leads to a small wooden hut. Deiss slides around me to unlock the door, and his shoulder brushes against mine, warm and hard. The contact sparks something inside my chest, a jolt of adrenaline reminding me that I’m not a person who shares small spaces. Even as a child, it was only me and a mother who was usually gone, working one of her two jobs. Most of the time, I had the house to myself. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll find somewhere else more appropriate to stay.

“What do you think?” Deiss asks, flipping on the light. Inside, it’s less primitive than the outside led me to believe. White tiles line the floor, and a ceiling fan whirs above. There’s a hand-painted elephant above the bed, bookmarked on either side by woven basket lids. “Nice, right?”

My eyes drop back to the bed. “Um, Lucas?”

“Yes, darling?”

“You said there were two beds.”

His lip curls. “Did I?”

I sputter in response. No. No way. Not happening. Fortunately, I’ve been practicing for this. The word no now lives on the tip of my tongue.

“Kidding, Olivia,” he says before I can get it out. He pulls the beige quilted cover off and presses into the middle of the bed, revealing a deep line beneath the sheets. “It’s two singles pushed together. Why don’t you hop in the shower, and I’ll hunt down our friends and two new sets of bedsheets. Mac will help me drag them apart when we get back.”

I blink at him, still prepared to say no. But no to what, I can’t decide. I’m so tired that I can’t even imagine insisting on going with him to find our friends. Plus, it’s definitely in everyone’s best interest if I bathe.

“Fine,” I say, pursing my lips. “Thank you.”

The moment the door closes behind him, I rip my clothes off and jump in the shower. At first, I flinch at every sound, peeking outside the curtain to make sure Deiss hasn’t returned. Within a few minutes, though, I’m too caught up in the feel of the water against my skin to care. It comes out in a trickle, and it smells different from back home. Unlike in LA, it’s not permeated with chlorine, and it has a salty tinge that seems wrong. The soap is different, too. No matter how vigorously I rub it between my palms, it won’t foam up. I end up using the shampoo on my body, spreading the suds until every part of me is slick and fragrant.

Afterward, I pull a pair of shorts and a t-shirt out of my bag. I need to go through it and figure out what I drunkenly packed, but first I should at least put on mascara and some blush. I’ll have to do something with my hair as well, before everyone arrives. I find a brush, but the act of lifting it to my head feels overwhelming. Heavily, I sink onto the bed. It’ll be easier this way, with just my arms active while my legs rest. As if my body is engaging in a revolt, my back slumps against the headboard and my legs stretch across the bed. The world blurs. My eyelids flutter once, twice, and then they close.





CHAPTER 6


Oh, Deiss.” Phoebe’s voice breaks through my sleep, ruining a very lovely dream in which I’ve been swimming with a new hybrid animal, spawned from a questionable mating of a koala bear and a turtle. “You wouldn’t!”

I squint against the light that’s streaming through the window and discover that my cheek is pressed against a t-shirt that’s covering a well-muscled back. Apparently, it’s the koala side of my swimming partner I’ve decided I relate most with, because I’m currently mimicking one, one of my arms wrapped around Deiss’s waist and my leg slung over both of his. It’s so wildly out of character for me that, rather than unhand him and scuttle backward like a normal person, I freeze in place.

“And good morning to you, Phoebe.” Deiss’s voice is gruff with sleep, but his body isn’t stiff with it. Smoothly, he turns toward me, wrapping warm fingers around my wrist and lifting my hand from the impressive ladder of abs they’re spanning.

My cheeks flush with embarrassment as he places my hand gently on my own stomach before pulling himself into a sitting position. His legs slide out from under mine, separating our bodies completely. The whole extraction is performed with the practiced hand of a dispassionate surgeon.

“You know Liv doesn’t like messes,” Phoebe says. “If you pull a dice on her, she’s going to end up running away from all of us. And who will keep us in line then? We’ll all be out of control.”

I rub the sleep out of my eyes, but it doesn’t go away. I’ve heard of jet lag, but I never dreamed it would feel so tangible. It’s like a thick wool blanket weighing down not only my body but my head, too. Even my fingers feel heavy and useless.

Phoebe, on the other hand, looks wide awake. She’s wearing a navy-and-white-striped top and a pair of white shorts with boat shoes. It would look annoyingly preppy if it weren’t for her glorious Afro and slew of accessories. As it is, it looks quirky and stylish. I’d like to re-create her image in illustrated form and attach it to a logo for a yachting company.

“We’re supposed to play dice?” I ask, trying to catch up.

“No,” Phoebe says. “He’s going to pull a Deiss. You know how he is. He can’t help himself.”

“This sounds like it’s going to be offensive.” Deiss’s mouth curls with amusement.

I force my eyes away. We’re in bed together. I have no makeup on, and my hair probably looks ridiculous. Worse, Deiss has had to peel me off of him like I’m some stray cat that snuck in during the night. This is more embarrassing than him seeing me yesterday, unshowered and covered in plane filth. It’s more embarrassing even than the time we stayed up partying all night at Phoebe’s and I awoke on her floor to find a green Jolly Rancher stuck to my cheek. No wonder Deiss was so sure he wouldn’t be tempted to cop a feel. I pull the sheet up to my neck and subtly begin to scoot toward the opposite side of the bed.