We stand in silence for a moment until she nods her head. “I’m tired. I think I’m going to go back to my room.”
“Can I walk you?”
“Kind of have no choice when your room is right next to mine.” Before she turns back toward the resort, I grab her wrist once more. “What?”
“I want to apologize again. I don’t like seeing you upset or making you upset. You know this. I just don’t like seeing you being treated that way.”
“I know. I’m a big girl and can handle it. I promise.”
I force a smile and nod, moving on from the conversation. Instead, I try to lighten the mood. “So how can I convince you to check out my room?”
She laughs and pushes me. “Not gonna happen.”
ELEVEN
RILEY
Deep thoughts at twelve in the afternoon: Do pineapples really make cum taste sweet?
While picking at the pineapple on my plate, I have no choice but to search for the answer to my question. When I bite the yellow cube off my fork, the sour taste bursts in my mouth.
‘There is no scientific evidence to support this claim. However, your diet can influence taste due to high-sugar fruits and their fructose content.’
Hm. Interesting.
Today is a perfect day for tanning. Not a cloud in the sky. This is my plan: eat and tan. And no one can tell me what to do. I’m going to sit here and enjoy my fruit, wondering if I’ll taste sweet for a man.
The couple sitting at a table in front of me is all over each other. Anyone could tell they’re newlyweds. They have that newlywed glow. They’re laughing and flirting as if they’re on their first date.
The woman’s wedding ring shines in the sunlight, and she giggles as the man buries his face in the crook of herneck. They look young. Maybe mid to late twenties. I can just tell they feel unstoppable and on top of the world. Freshly married with many more milestones to come.
Is that what it felt like for my parents? Sparks flying, laughter booming, smiles wide, and affection toward each other every single day. Maybe it fizzled out during their first year. I’ve heard that the first year of marriage is considered difficult.
You’re blending two lives.
I pick up a strawberry and shove it in my mouth. I’ll drown my sorrows in fruit.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” A man with a guttural, deep accent pulls my attention. “Here is your drink you’ve requested.”
This man's bulge—in his very white, short shorts—is staring at me like it wants to ask me out on a date.
Are his thighs covered in oil? They’re huge. He’s huge.
Forcing myself to look away from his dick and at his eyes, I watch his lips curve with a dimple in his chin. He has the most striking green eyes I’ve seen on a man. His jet-black hair gleams under the afternoon sun.
He must get laid. Like a lot. There’s no way he doesn’t. I’ve never come across a man who’s made me at a loss for words, but this one…
“You must get laid a lot.” I word-vomit. My eyes grow comically large, and I slap my lips together.
I couldn’t help it. It just came out of me. I thought men like this only existed in romance books.
The tips of my fingers cover my lips. “I’msosorry. That was incredibly inappropriate. Please don’t kick me out.”
His husky laugh makes my shoulders relax. A good sign that I didn’t just offend him. He shifts the tray he’s holding behind his back with both arms. The white polo that’stucked into his shirt shows off every curve and muscle he carries.
“Don’t worry, I won’t say a thing. If I had a dollar for every time a woman asked me that same thing, I’d be a millionaire.”
Relief washes over me knowing that I’m not the only woman with dirty thoughts that slip out.
