Sometimes this storytelling parallels catastrophic thinking.
Maybe that’s what I’m doing now, lying here on this bed waiting for Paisley to finish changing.
Catastrophizing.
Was Paisley only pretending to enjoy that kiss? What if that’s all it was, and she did it so she didn’t hurt my feelings because I have to be here with her for the rest of the week, and maybe if I realized she hated our second kiss more than our first I would run (swim? somersault onto a boat?) off the island and leave her here to face the week on her own.
Catastrophic thinking, or storytelling? Depends on the reader, I guess.
For me, that kiss was earth-shattering. It was an answer to a long held question.Are Paisley and I physicallyincompatible?The answer, for me, is a resounding no. Paisley’s soft skin, the smell of orange blossoms, the little noises in the back of her throat, andhelp me Godthe feel of her lips. Soft and supple, perfect, melting against mine.
Paisley steps from the bathroom wearing denim cut-offs and a thin white tank top. Her eyes find mine, a peachy-pink flush stealing over her cheeks. From me? Our kiss?
She smiles shyly at me. Does this mean I won’t need to catapult myself onto the next vessel off this island?
“Paisley—”
She holds out a hand. “You look worried, Wordsmith. Don’t be.”
“It wasn’t our second worst kiss?”
She shakes her head slowly, her smile small but genuine, her eyes alight. “Not by a long shot.”
Is my smug feeling showing on my face? Probably. Years spent self-flagellating over that terrible performance, and now I’ve shown her I’m better than that.
Righted a wrong.
She comes to a stop beside the bed, pushing her hip against the side of the mattress and looking down at me. “You ready for some beach volleyball and a bonfire?”
“Only if I can pop my collar. This feels like an ultra-preppy event. Let me grab the keys to my sailboat. Will there be photographers present? Ralph Lauren has been incessant about putting me in their summer issue.”
Paisley beats back a laugh. “Don’t make me kiss you again just to stop your mouth from running a mile a minute, Madigan.”
Won’t you, please?
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Royce.” I swing my legs off the bed. “Besides, you can’t kiss me now. We’re supposed to be saving our lip locks for the audience.”
She gives my clothing a once-over. “Correct. Bring a sweatshirt with you. It can be chilly on the beach at night.”
She pulls a forest green zip-up hoodie from the closet where her dress hangs. I do the same, grabbing the only sweatshirt I brought from my dresser drawer.
Sweatshirts in hand, we head out of our room. We pause to say goodbye to Lausanne, who tells us Paisley’s mom and Ben have gone to the place they’re renting. Paisley invites Lausanne, but she declines, claiming she’d rather cook dinner.
“Don’t worry,” Lausanne reassures, “she took the soup with her.”
We leave for the private walkway, the roar of the ocean filling my ears with every step we take closer. For the twentieth time since I arrived, I marvel at the fact I’m here.
It’s late enough in the afternoon that most families are gone from the sand. Individuals, and some couples, walk at the water’s edge. It’s earlier today than it was yesterday when we came out here, the sky still a lemony yellow but darkening into dandelion at the edges.
We pause at the bottom stair on the other side of the dune. A handful of people—fifteen?—gather around. I recognize Paisley’s brother, Shane, and Sienna, but everyone else playing volleyball is a mystery to me.
The game is men versus women. The men wear chinos in muted pinks, blues, and greens, and matching whitepolos. The women wear dresses in linens and eyelets, and oversized sunglasses.
I glance at Paisley. “What in the Vineyard Vines is going on here?”
A laugh bursts from her. “Did I forget to tell you? Ralph Lauren canceled your shoot. Vineyard Vines replaced them.”
“Hardy har har.” We schlep over warm sand and deposit our things on one corner of the enormous light blue and white gingham beach blanket. On the opposite corner sits a cooler, propped open to reveal water bottles, cans of soda water, wine, and beer.
