Swallowing hard, I manage a weak smile. “I’m not going to tell you to fuck off.”
“Okay, good, because I was bluffing. I would very much hate for you to tell me to fuck off,” he replies, releasing my arm but not breaking eye contact. We sit in silence for a moment, feeling the heat between us, before he grins and leans back in his chair.
“Okay,” I agree quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s do it.”
“Deal,” he declares, extending his hand for a handshake. I take it, feeling the electric charge between us once more, and we seal our promise with a firm grip.
Our gazes meet, and I almost drown in the depths of his hazel eyes. The desire within me is so strong that I could cut through it with a knife. And instead of shying away from it, I allow myself to fully experience it. Even if I have no intention of acting on it, just letting this want for him wash over me feels nice.
At least, it’s nicer than anything I’ve been feeling over the last month. For the first time, I’m starting to feel like it’s possible to long to be in the arms of someone other than Jasper.
Even if it’s just to fantasize about.
CHAPTER6
The morning sun filters in through the gauzy curtains, bathing the cabin in a soft, warm glow. I blink awake slowly, stretching my arms over my head as the faint cries of seagulls drift in through the open window. The crisp ocean air kisses my skin, invigorating me for the day ahead.
For a brief moment, I’m completely calm.
Then I remember why I’m here, and the anxiety creeps back into my chest.
“Ugh.” I pull the blankets over my head. I haven’t even started on this dumb retreat website yet, which makes it even harder. Back in high school and college, when I still used to think I would someday write high fantasy novels for a living, a blank first page was my biggest enemy.
But I know all I need to do is just get started. It’s like opening a brand-new bag of chips and trying to have just one. Once you have a taste, it’s like you just can’t stop. Writing is a bit similar. And it was so easy for me back then—as effortless as scarfing down an entire bag of BBQ chips.
These days, it’s not the same. At all. I don’t know if it’s because of the anxiety getting worse or just all the head trash of being an adult with more experience that’s getting in my way.
Regardless, the last thing I feel like doing is getting out of bed and starting this website. But if I don’t want to be homeless by the end of the month, I don’t really have a choice.
I throw the fluffy blanket away from my face and sit up, blinded by the sun that’s creeping from outside. At least I can’t claim I have an uninspiring setting. Apart from attending the actual Panchakarma retreat, I don’t think I could have found a better place to write from.
My feet hit the ground and I’m relieved to feel the soft heat of the floor. It’s going to be a warm day, at least.
In a post-sleep daze, I go through the motions as I prepare my coffee and get dressed. Well, calling it ‘getting dressed’ is a bit of a stretch—I just throw on some loose satin shorts and a T-shirt that looks somewhere between real clothes and pyjamas. Fuck the bra. But that’s better than wearing my skimpy silk bathrobe outside.
It’s a cloudless sky, and the sun is rising straight in front of the cabin, right above the ocean. It’s a beautiful sight. And even though it’s not practical, I set up my workstation right on the deck. The triangle top of the cabin will probably cast a shadow once the sun is higher up at noon, but for now, I have to put on my crappy old pair of sunglasses to shield myself.
But it’s 100 percent worth it. I pick from one of the two comfy lounge chairs on the deck as my battle station, prop my coffee—black, like my soul—down next to it on the deck, and start soaking it all in. The salty air. The sun. The sound of the waves.
Aww, yes.
I immediately feel myself calming down. Yup, this was the right move after all.
The first sip of my coffee cements this feeling of serenity. These moments don’t come often, and they seem to require an almost impossible series of circumstances to trigger complete peace in myself like this. That’s why, when they come, I soak them in with every ounce of my being.
I take in one final breath before I open my laptop and set it up on my lap.All right, I think to myself.Let’s get into it.
I already did the easy part: the research phase. This involved interviewing members of the company’s team, getting to understand how the retreat works, scouring through existing reviews of the experience online, stalking their competitors to see what’s lacking in the space, and listening to an unholy number of podcasts and YouTube videos about the experience of Panchakarma itself. With this amount of research, it’s usually easier to work from my overcrowded two-screen setup I have on my desk at home, so I don’t have to switch from tab to tab as often. But the sacrifice of having a single screen on my laptop is made worth it by the setting I’ve immersed myself in.
I wonder what Logan’s up to this morning, I think before I can stop myself. A tingling sensation fills my lower belly, and I frown.No. Think about Logan and how ridiculously attracted I am to him later. Now?Focus.
I end up spending the first thirty minutes setting up the document with placeholder text instead ofactuallywriting anything—my favourite way to procrastinate. But at least I won’t start off with a blank page—never a blank page.
Every word feels like pulling teeth out. In between a quick sandwich for lunch and one short walk down the pebbly beach, I manage to crank out a draft of the home page, and when I look back out at the sun and see how much time has passed, I gasp.Damn.
And when I read back what I wrote?Damn, damn, damn.This is shit.
For my usual standards, the copy I just wrote for this website’s home page is … okay. It’s not too far off from the style some of their competitors have. But their team doesn’t want ‘okay.’ Leslie, my main point of contact, told me the website must be ‘emotive and take the reader through a transformative experience.’
