We turn back to the view and take it in.
“I’m looking forward to that massage,” she says after a few minutes.
“Massage?”
She nods. “Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve had one.”
Over the years, I’ve learned that Iris loves a good spa day. She loves getting massages, facials, and doing all that girlie shit. She also prefers not going alone.
“Was it with the girls?” I ask, referring to our friend group and her best friend from childhood.
“Yeah. I think it was right after the gala,” she says, referencing the hockey gala we went to for Brantley.
“It’s been a while then,” I mutter, more to myself.
How did I not notice it had been so long?
“Yeah…” She trails off, pulling out her phone to take a photo of the scenery.
“Do you want me to come with you?” I ask without thinking about it.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. The only thing I hate as much as being forced to people is being touched by strangers.
She turns toward me, eyes wide as her phone lowers. “Are you serious? You would get a massage with me?”
“If you wanted me to.” I shrug. “I know you don’t like doing it alone, but if you want to…”
“No, I would love for you to come,” she says quickly.
“Okay then. Let’s get back and get our massage on.”
Iris laughs as I cringe. “Get our massage on? Really?”
“Whatever. Let’s go,” I say as I start back down the path.
She pulls me back by my arm. I turn, looking at her, thinking about how she is so beautiful that the scenery around us pales in comparison. I would miss everything because my eyes are always on her.
“Take a picture with me?” she asks.
I nod, turning so she can take a selfie. She makes a cute face at the camera, but I turn my face toward hers, pushing my lips to her cheek. She laughs as she pulls away, wiping her cheek.
“Ew, you are so sweaty.”
I turn away from her. “You wanted the picture. Now keep up, or I’ll get a massage without you.”
It’s an empty threat, but it gets her legs moving as we head back down the trail.
Regrets. I have massive fucking regrets.
When I agreed to a massage, I didn’t know what I was getting into. I didn’t know about the little noises she would make. Or the way her breathing would make me hard as a rock.
“I swear, Matilda, you are a goddess with your hands,” she sighs.
Matilda chuckles. “Thank you.”
My masseuse taps my shoulder. “If you roll over, I can do your front.”
Do my front? Absolutely not.
