CAROLINE
Basil tugsmy hand to speed up our walk down the resort hallway toward the workshop. Apparently, she’s quite excited about Queer Finances 101.
When we pass the open double doors for the event, I yank around and point to redirect us. “We missed the entrance.”
“I know,” she says with that cunning smile that tells me she’s up to no good. “We’re not going inside.”
We turn the corner and pace down the hallway. The lights seem to dim the further go; this is a path I haven’t traveled before. “Where are you taking me?”
She doesn’t answer. We continue until the sounds of the chatter becomes faint, almost nonexistent. The only sounds remaining are my increasing heartbeat and the off-and-on rumbling thunder from the stormy weather. She halts and points. “Here.”
I silently assess the tiny screen on the side and red curtain and crinkle my brows together in confusion. “A photo booth?” I can’t remember the last time I was inside one.
“The Blakemans gave me a quick tour. Apparently, people rarely ever go down here since there’s nothing but this photo booth, which they plan to get rid of next month. This hallway is not included on the patron tour; I just happened to inquire about renovations.” She chuckles and slides the fabric open. “Don’t get me wrong, I love to talk about money just as much as the next person, but I’m wearing my favorite sundress, so I thought we could take pictures.”
I’m not buying it. “For an hour?” I give her a look. “That’s a lot of photos.”
She nods, a glint of seduction in her eyes. She knows I’m picking up on her. “I can think of some creative poses to pass the time. Let’s call this a continuation of our celebration.” That devilishly cute dimpled grin returns. “This is better than walking back to the villa. It’s pouring outside.” She points an index finger toward the ceiling.
We pause for a moment and listen. Pitter-patter drops of rain pound against the rooftop. It seems like the rain is coming down sideways. I hear storms don’t last long on the island but can be intense when they arrive. Maybe she has a point.
I glance around. At least there’s no one else here—they’re probably in the workshop, which, from the sounds of clapping, isn’t that far away. I don’t know if being alone with Basil is good or bad at this point, given she’s still my target and we can’t seem to keep our hands off each other. I shake my head becausethiskeeps happening. Giving into my temptation, I enter first and sit on the black cushion. There’s barely room for two. What a time to have long legs and a fierce desire to push Basil’s face between them.Pictures only, then destroy the photo-booth strip,I tell myself—the evidence of the forbidden relationship between us.
She sits down next to me and drops her tote bag by her legs onto the floor. When she leans across to close the curtain, I inhale the scents of mandarin and jasmine from her perfume, and I wonder if I’ll miss it when I’m back in Seattle. Because that’s the reality of the situation. We’re not in a real relationship. For her, I’m probably a temporary fix from being left at the altar. My jaw tightens at the thought, and I stare at the wall.
“What’s going on?” Basil gently brushes my shoulder with hers and finds my eyes “You’ve been acting strange since we left the villa.”
I hesitate, fighting the urge to say what’s on my mind. The words spill anyway. “We don’t have much time left on the island together.” I clamp my eyes shut, and the painful truth comes out. “Basil, I know what this is. I’m just a distraction from the pain. A rebound, but I can’t—” I pause, unsure how to explain. Keep falling—to the point where I’m madly, deeply in love with my target, whose mother I’m working for?
“I don’t believe that’s how I feel.” She pushes her loose curls to one side and caresses my fingers. “I know it looks that way, but for me it’s—I don’t know. Complicated? I feel things that I probably shouldn't be feeling right now. Not in the amount of time we’ve spent together.”
I expel a breath. “You know that I don’t like to start things I can’t finish. I mean that.”
Silence.
She stands and turns. Somehow, she manages to straddle me in this tiny photo booth and wrap her arms around my neck, prompting me to hold her waist. The way her eyes soften when we’re this close makes my stomach flip and flop. I love the way she looks at me.
“Yes, I admit this was all unexpected.” Her voice is full of tenderness. She readjusts her position so we’re both more comfortable. “But I’m learning to not always question synchronicities.” Her lips brush mine, and I can’t help but melt into the kiss. “I wish you could see what I see.” She huffs a breath and whispers, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
There’s raw emotion in her eyes that tells me she’s being sincere. We stare into each other’s souls for a beat. Can she see how much I care for her? How conflicted my brain gets when she touches me? Or how royally screwed I am?
“Basil. I—”
Lips on my neck cut me off. A satisfying moan escapes my mouth as she trails tiny kisses to my earlobe. All thoughts of the impossibilities between us vanish. My grip around her waist tightens. I never want to let her go.
“Let’s just enjoy the time we have and then figure out the rest later.” She kisses me gently on the lips. “Besides, I didn’t bring you here only for pictures. Close your eyes.”
I oblige and wonder what she's up to when I sense her body weight shift and hear her rustling in her bag.
“Is this okay?”
My eyelids flutter open. A black silk blindfold?
“Do you trust me?” she asks, a smirk painting her lips.
“Yes.” I lean forward so she has room to tie the fabric around my head.
Stillness stretches between us. The only sounds I hear are the taps of the rain outside and our heartbeats. Gentle strokes of her fingers up and down my cheek relax every fiber in my body. No matter what happens next, I trust Basil.
