I can’t argue with that logic. “Well, thank you. I bet their heads popped off when you asked what shampoo I used. I’m surprised I didn’t find out you were shopping for me via the Bronze Bay gossip hotline. You’d be surprised how quickly news travels.”
“I may have threatened their lives,” he says.
Turning off my water, I eye him. “Liar.”
Sighing, he pulls me in for a wet, hot hug—our skin the same exact temperature. His lips are against my hair. “Plus, I love the way this shampoo smells so much I might use it on myself.”
“So you can think of me when I’m not around?” I fire back.
He grunts. “Maybe.”
Leif wraps me in a fluffy, white towel, then snatches it away when I am mostly dry so the naked sleepover can resume. I bump off the air conditioner and open the windows to let in the warm night air. The waves echo through the living room as we alternate between looking at each other’s naked body to talking about everything. We talk about his family and upbringing a lot, and I find myself wistful, yet happy. Happy he had such a happy childhood because it made him the man he is today, and wistful because it’s obvious I missed out on so much. I was forced to grow up so quickly and fully that perhaps skipping it made me who I am. When he finishes a story, I’m no longer afraid to meet his parents, nor will I ever be intimidated by his sisters again.
“There’s a game I like to play,” I say, when there’s a lull in conversation.
“Let’s play it,” he says, biting his lip.
“It’s not sexual,” I explain. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep and I’m too tired to read, I ask myself silly questions. It’s an imagination game. When I was little, I’d ask myself what I’d buy if I had twenty dollars. It was usually whatever toy my friends at school had that I didn’t. Then I got older and the questions turned into, ‘What would my perfect boyfriend look like?’ or ‘What would I do with a billion dollars?’”
“Oh, this is my favorite kind of game. Ask me anything,” Leif says, excitement lighting his eyes. “I’ll win this game every single time.”
“There aren’t winners and losers.” We’re stretched out on a cotton blanket on the floor, the television playing lowly in the background. The movie was whatever came up first on his queue, it is over now, and some random show is playing as background noise. There was never any question of if we would actually watch it. We just wanted the sound to help fill the silence while we stared. Our eyes are only for each other. “So, what would you do with a billion dollars? Would you quit your job?”
“First off, we couldn’t tell anyone. Not our family or friends. We’d live off the interest. No ostentatious purchases. That’s where people fuck up when they win the lottery. The money clouds their judgment. I wouldn’t stop working. I love my job, but my hobbies would be way cooler.” He folds his arms behind his head. “We’d gift some of the money to our family and friends. In small increments, though.”
“That’s smart,” I remark. “Also, you’re saying we, not I.”
The dreamy smile drops from his face. “Oh. Well, I thought you asked what we would do with a billion dollars.”
“I like being a ‘we’ with you,” I reply, tracing his chiseled jaw with my finger. Leaning in, I kiss his lips. He deepens the kiss, leaning into me. The news anchor on television breaks through our perfect moment. Something about a terrorist squad mobilizing. It’s just enough to remind us we don’t live in same world we did as children. Leif pauses, listening, but keeping his lips against mine. His body goes rigid.
“What does your ideal boyfriend look like?” Leif asks, distractedly, lips still pressed to mine. It’s obvious his whole demeanor changes when his work is brought up. It’s not just his work, though. It affects everyone.
I kiss his jaw. His neck. The swell of his chest, where his muscles begin. His body relaxes under my touch. Maybe this is what I offer him. Peace inside his world of war and unknowns.
“You’re fishing,” I murmur against his skin.
“Well, you’re hooking. Makes sense, right?”
“I didn’t realize what my ideal man looked like until I met you,” I say, meeting his gaze. “You.”
He peers down at me through his thick blond lashes. “I want to change my billion-dollar answer,” Leif growls.
“No changes,” I say, smirking.
His face is stoic, severe, as he whispers, “If the only thing I own is your heart, I’ll be the richest man in the world.”
I don’t know how I can tell from just a look, but that seems to be a trend with Leif, and I’m pretty sure we both broke a couple of rules. “Consider yourself a billionaire, fine sir,” I say, bringing his face to mine in a kiss, the news once again becoming background noise.
ELEVEN
Leif
“The night is clear.It’s going to be awesome. You can’t tell Aidan,” I mutter to our pilot, who just agreed to the biggest favor I’ve ever asked of anyone before. After a day of skydiving, I’m dog-ass tired. The adrenaline rush causes a crash akin to a three-day alcohol bender. I think it’s from doing something that could possibly cause death, over and over, that does it. I could be wrong, though.
“What time?” the pilot asks, looking at his watch. “I’m going to grab something to eat, refuel, and I’ll be back.”
I tell him to meet me back here at the airport in two hours and then try to sneak out of the airport without Tahoe or Caroline seeing me. I don’t even know if Malena is going to agree to this, but I want to give her the experience. I’ve fallen for her in ways I didn’t know I was capable of. Might as well fall with her, hurtling down to Earth above the town that has become my X marks the spot. The place where I found her. The one. My person.
