The Trade(63)

“In that case, enjoy your night with your friends. It was great meeting you, Natalie. If you’re ever in California, you have my number.”

“Thank you. Have a safe trip home.” I give him a short wave and then quickly make my way to Cory, who’s using a short stick to dig a hole in the sand.

Both towels are laid out and I take the one next to him, bumping into his shoulder when I sit down.

He glances at me, but his smile is gone. Shit, did I mess this up again? He was so warm, now I’m unsure what he’s feeling. If only I could read the thoughts running through his head that make his face look so pensive.

“Thanks for the water,” I say, trying to break the silence.

“Yeah, of course.”

He clears his throat and looks back at Nicholas. If he thinks I slept with Nicholas last night, does he think I took Nicholas up on his invitation? I need to make things quite clear. “I . . . uh . . . turned him down.”

“Yeah?” Cory asks, still looking at the sand.

“Yeah, I want to spend my last night on the island with someone else.”

He twists his head ever so slightly so I catch half his face. “Who’s that?”

I bump his shoulder again. “I think you know.”

He gives me a short smirk and turns back to the sand. After a few brief pauses of silence, he says, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I answer, trying not to get worked up over what he might ask me, but with this man, I never know.

“Last night, were you coming back to the room for the night, or did you have plans to meet Nicholas again?”

I should have known it wasn’t going to be an easy question.

Deciding to be truthful, I say, “I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do. I went back to the room to change. I was supposed to meet Nicholas at the beach for more drinks, but when I got back to the room . . . I didn’t want to leave.”

He turns his full attention to me again and asks, “Why?”

“Because.” I bite my bottom lip. His eyes fall to my mouth and then back up to meet my gaze. “I . . . I took one look at you and knew where I wanted to be.” There, I said it, in a roundabout way, but I put it out there.

But he doesn’t respond. He nods his head and then leans back on his hands, looking toward the ocean.

Oh-kay.

He’s not going to respond to that?

From his silence, I’m guessing not.

Don’t get frustrated. It won’t do you any good. He seems like a slow mover and that’s fine. I can move slow, at least that’s what I try to convince myself.





Chapter Fifteen





CORY





The door beeps and unlocks, and on a shaky hand, I push it open and hold the door for Natalie as she gently pushes past me, her arm grazing mine. It’s subtle, but when you tally up the different ways she’s brushed against me, touched me, or even briefly clung to my arm, it feels like the smallest of touches is going to make me explode.

Today was . . . fuck, it was awesome.

There was no plan. We were allowed to be lazy, do whatever we wanted, and because it was our last day on vacation, and everyone else coupled up and did their own thing after our brunch, I didn’t mind pulling Natalie to the beach. We didn’t see everyone else until dinner.

I spent my day watching her laugh and smile under the sun, enjoying her silent company as we lay in a cabana and got massages. It felt like we had known each other for more than just a few months, as if we’ve been lifelong friends simply spending a day together.

I had a lot of fucking fun and now that we’re calling it a night, way after the sun has gone down, way after our friends retreated, I’m fucking nervous again. Our entire day has been so easy, but it almost feels like the minute we step into these four confining walls, something is supposed to happen, as if we owe it to the room. As if we owe it to each other.

Despite the fucking phenomenal day, I still don’t think I can give her what she wants, and I don’t think she can give me what I want.

And that’s what it comes down to: we’re both compatible, but in different phases of our life. The timing couldn’t have been any worse.

Well, that’s not true: she could still be married. At least I don’t have the guilt of talking to another man’s wife this time. I just have to deal with the fact that the other man ruined my chance.

“Are we watching The Office? One more time?” she asks, twirling around to address me while walking backward.

She’s wearing the cutest fucking sundress that plays against her beautiful tan and clings to her breasts like a lifeline. I’ve been staring at them all night it feels, memorizing the shape and wondering how heavy they’d feel in my palms. She also kept her makeup simple with some mascara, showing me the real her. Which, fuck . . . she’s captured me, big time. I’m a sucker for her face, for her smile, for her laugh.

“Can’t imagine doing anything else on our last night,” I reply. That’s a lie. I could imagine a whole lot of things we could do tonight.

“Awesome. Let me get changed and brush my teeth.”

“Cool, yeah. I’ll grab my toothbrush and get ready out here.”

We spend the next few minutes getting ready for bed. I slip on a pair of athletic shorts and leave it at that—no boxer briefs, because what’s the point—and then I brush my teeth in the kitchenette sink. Once I’m done, I push down the covers of the sofa bed and turn on the TV while slipping under the sheets as I think back over our day.