Pretty Instinct (16 page)

He hasn’t tried anything and our interactions, even if alone, are merely friendly, effortless, and fun. He does flirt, but I think it’s just his personality, not specifically because of me. And as attractive as I find him,
my fingers sore and the bus forever out of hot water because I’ve become a habitual showerer (the only time I get to take all the “Cannon” that day and release it, finding nirvana and some serenity),
I honestly look forward to simply “hanging” with him. Okaaay, there’s a “sizzle” no matter what we’re doing, but not uncontrollably so.

When I hear the song change to the old Aretha Franklin attempt at a comeback, “I Knew You Were Waiting,” I can’t stifle my giggle and pull myself up and out of the tub with a sigh. How does
that
song even come to his mind? It wasn’t worth listening to even
in
its decade.

But I can take a hint, however painful to the ears…patience of Job that man hath not.

I peek around the door of the bathroom; I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to find he’d broken in and was waiting in the room. But it’s empty, so I scamper over to my pajama choices, picking a luxurious but comfortable looking pink tank and shorts set. Drying off and dressing in double time, I walk over and rap out a few hard, loud knocks on the adjoining door.

And the music stops.

“Ghost of Christmas Past, is that you?” he calls through the wooden barrier.

See—quirky and hilarious. Who thinks of stuff like that?

“Get your ass over here if you wanna watch a movie, DJ Not Kool,” I simper back, taming my girly laugh.

“Then open the door.”

Oh, so it seems I’m on the gate
keeper
side.

I open it and gulp, suddenly slightly lightheaded. Cannon’s leisurely stretched out before me, his arms braced over his head on the door frame in only mesh shorts, the kind that tease you, all “will I hold on to these sweet hips or fall right off?” Come to think of it, all his bottoms say that to me.

“Glad to see someone’s okay with me slacking at the gym lately.” He winks, brushing past me into my room.

There, that—is that just his flirty personality or for me?

Embarrassed at being caught gawking, and called right out on it, I take my time shutting the door before I have to turn around. I know, as every woman knows, that my nipples are gonna be poking like sharpened pencils through this silky top when I face him. So I do the only thing that comes to mind, cross my arms over my chest, then turn and fly across the room all in one movement, babbling in hopes of distraction.

“Thanks for the treats; the bath was heavenly and long overdue. What movie did you want to watch?”

He chuckles from behind me. “Did you snort a line off the side of the bathtub?”

“What?” I spin around in indignation. “Of course not. Why would you ask that?”

He’s made himself at home, leaning back against the headboard, long, muscular legs covered in a light smattering of brown hair stretched out the length of my bed. “You seem jumpy and you’re talking fast.” He tucks both hands behind his head and crosses his ankles. “What are you nervous about?”

“I’m not nervous.” My brow creases. “Still amped up from the show, I guess.”

“Lizzie.” My name falls off his tongue in a smooth, husky tone, patting the bed beside him. “Come ‘ere.”

I hesitate, but when he holds out his hand to me, I glide across the room and place mine in it.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yesss?”

“Have I ever done anything to make you feel uncomfortable?”

Cha
,
yeah
! There’s a permanent tingling throb between my legs that’s pretty damn
uncomfortable
, Mr. Pretty. Not to mention my nipples’ constant state of tight strain.

“No.” I shake my head, answering according to what he actually meant.

“Do you trust me?” He peers up at me, him lying back on the bed, me standing over him, our hands still joined.

“I do,” I whisper automatically, absolutely without doubt.

My easy answer makes his already devastating smile positively electric. “Okay, then hop your cute little ass in this bed and pick a movie to watch,
friend
.”

***

“Question,” he interrupts the movie yet again and I roll my eyes as I hit pause.

“What?” Could he really have this many questions or is trying to get me to turn it? Or he is actually this adorable?

“Aren’t chicks always squawking about ‘he can’t possibly love me yet’ or ‘it’s too soon to tell him’?”

“I believe you’re referring to insta-love. And yes, according to the occasional magazine I stumble upon, it’s a controversial point of bitching for lots of people, although, Rhett seems to be pro-insta. Why?” I ask, dipping into the bowl for another handful of popcorn, courtesy of the snack basket.

“So riddle me this, Bat Lizzie. This dude starts falling for her
inside a week
because she played with some opera glasses and slung a shrimp across the room?”

“It was a snail.”

“What?” he asks, face adorably confused.

“She flung a
snail
across the room, not a shrimp. And it’s those little things he falls for. She’s charming and refreshing because he’s so stuffy.”

Could that explanation have sounded more familiar, albeit backwards?

“She’s. A. Hooker,” he deadpans, obviously thinking that speaks for itself, which it doesn’t.

“Very good!” I praise. “You understood the first ten minutes of the movie. Now what’s all the rest of your rambling mean?” I cock a brow, mocking him but anxious for a debate.

“Hear me out.” He sits up, setting the bowl aside and shifting to face me. “So women don’t buy the instant love stuff, and criticize it, but they’ll watch this movie every time it’s on. It’s a movie that sells you in a ‘Yes, I take dick professionally from random strangers but I fist pump at polo matches so forget that and truly love me in a week’ sort of way. That about sum it up?”

Holy shit—he’s right.

“Ah ha!” He points at my dumbfounded face. “I nailed it. Horseshit, right?”

“I believe you just won your case, Mr. Blackwell. Congratulations.” I give him a golf clap. “I probably shouldn’t mention
Cosmo’s
other coveted theory; ‘don’t sleep with him too soon if you want to keep him,’ huh?”

“Women.” He shakes his head. “You watch this show but gripe ‘it’s too soon, don’t trust him, girl.’ Conventionally hypocritical. Oh, and review—She. Is. A. Hooker. So stuff the whole ‘hold out’ theory for sure.”

“May I ask why this is such a sore subject for you?” My mouth twists in a threatening snicker, amused at how heated and animated he’s gotten over
Pretty Woman
.

He shrugs, picking the popcorn bowl back up and popping a few pieces in his mouth. “It’s not. I just like to know I’m right and prepared to successfully argue any crazy, hypocritical, you-don’t-know-what-the-fuck-you’re-talking-about topic. You never know when someone might hit me with an insta-love debate.”

Could he mean? No, don’t be a dumbass, Liz…you’re thinking with your vagina.

“Okay, well this movie’s shot. Wanna pick another one?” I ask.

“Actually, I better head back through the wardrobe before that spooky half-goat guy comes looking for me. And you need to rest.” He climbs off the bed, stretching his arms over his head mesmerizingly, then flashes me a wink. “See you in the morning, Lizzie. Sweet dreams.”

And with that, he slips out, leaving me lying silently in bed, without words, even more mystified and hormonally unbalanced than before.

The next morning, I wake as thoroughly rested as I’ve been in months. If I could fit this heavenly bed on the bus, I’d steal it, no questions asked.

My phone dings from across the room and I scramble out of bed to grab it. I’m not sure what time it is, but it’s never too early for Conner to be up.

Hot Hitchhiker: Come down and have breakfast with us sleepyhead.

Me: Who is this? IDK any hot hitchhikers. I do know a HACKER.

HH: Funny, now get up. We have a few hours to enjoy outside if u hurry. Btw…..HOT Hacker works for me too.

Me: Con w/ u?

HH: Yep, itching to explore the city before he’s trapped on a bus again.

Me: Gimme 15.

I rush through a shower, bumbling my way through hair, teeth, and getting dressed. Side note—the more you rush, the more you actually impede speedy prep by tripping over pant legs and losing stuff in the scramble. I throw on some jeans, a t-shirt, and Vans, gather up all my stuff in a neat pile, and hurry downstairs. Last to arrive at the smorgasbord, I find the other six putting a hug dent in the complimentary breakfast buffet. My stomach gurgles angrily when the aroma hits me.

“Morning, Sunshine, glad you could join us.” My uncle leans down and kisses my head when I fall beside him in the feeding line. “Sleep well?”

I’m loading up my plate vigorously, not realizing how hungry I was. “Like a log. You?”

“Maybe not that well.” He laughs. “Our room had one bed and Conner isn’t the stillest sleeper. But all in all, pretty good.”

When our plates are overflowing, we head over to the booth where the others are sitting. It looks pretty crowded and I’m definitely ravenous enough to throw elbows, so I take the booth directly behind them.

“Morning, Liz. I could have moved,” Vanessa offers, eyes flicking down.

“No worries. I’m hungry enough to hurt someone in the attack.” I smile at her and dig in, unashamed.

“Cannon said we have time to go to the zoo!”

Um, ouch. I jab myself in the gums with my fork, Conner bouncing me three inches off the seat with his greeting. Swallowing, I swipe my mouth and inspect the napkin; only a little blood. “He did, huh?” I cut narrowed eyes over the top of the booth to Cannon, already watching me with a knowing smirk. “Everyone wanna go?” I ask louder.

“Nessy and I are gonna take a pass,” Jarrett declines into her neck as she giggles and swats him away.

“Rhett? Bruce?”

“I’d just as soon use the time to rest my back,” my uncle says with an apologetic frown.

I nod. “Of course. Do we need to get you in to see somebody about that?”

“Pshhh.” He waves me off. “Nobody’s gotta cure for old. That’s all it is.”

“There’s a spa here, Gramps. You oughta see if it has a masseuse,” Jarrett suggests, earning him a swat from Vanessa for the sarcasm.

“Hmmm, worth a ty.” Bruce stands, eyes gleaming at the possibility of a female-given massage, I’m guessing—and gagging. “I’ll see you kids later.”

“Maybe she’ll help him
really
throw his back out.”

This time
I
lean up and slap Jarrett on the head.

“Rhett, how ‘bout you?” I look to him, my expression full of hope. The two of us seem to be growing apart and I’m not okay with that.

“Sure, I’ll go,” he answers instantly and I about fall over with happiness.

“Okay then. Let’s go!” Conner jumps up and shouts.

“Con, let’s go load the bus while your sister finishes eating,” Cannon suggests, my stomach thanking him.

While the rest of them disperse, I shovel down a few more bites and throw some money on the table.

Bring on the zoo!

***

Is it possible to get kicked out of a zoo—a place specifically for wild animals, you ask?

Why yes. Yes it is.

See, when they post instructional signs such as “don’t feed the animals” or “don’t tap on the glass,” they actually mean it. In all fairness, there wasn’t technically a “don’t climb the fence to join the monkeys” sign, but it was a deal breaker for them—the final straw—and out we were shown.

Despite the walk of shame out of the park, sequestered on all sides by zoo employees, we had a great time. Conner thinks he needs his own chimpanzee now, and as we approach the bus, Rhett and Cannon are still
acting
like chimpanzees, but it’s been one of the best days I’ve ever had, uncontested.

“Lizzie, love, stop.”

And I sure the fuck do, stopping cold when his deep voice demands it.
Love?

“You have peanut shells in the back of your hair. Lemme get ‘em,” he murmurs lowly from right behind me, running one hand up through my hair. “Guess we missed the elephants a few times,” he teases, long fingers gently separating and picking through the strands.

“Ya’ll coming?” Rhett leans out the bus door and screams. “Bruce said we need to get moving. He already loaded everything over from the rooms, including clean clothes! Bonus!”

I hadn’t realized they’d gone ahead, leaving Cannon and I standing alone under a shade tree. But now that I’m cognizant, my body goes taut, back ramrod straight and breathing staggered.

“I feel like one of those National Geographic specials where the monkeys sit around and pick at each other,” he says, laughing softly.

My own forced chuckle sounds fake. “Are you done?”

“All done.” His hands move to my bare shoulders, fingers grazing lightly over them. “You got a little sunburn today. Hurt?”

“No,” I wisp out, trembling with each feathering pass his fingers continue to make on my skin.

“Good. If it starts to, we need to put some aloe on there, but I think you’ll be fine. You ready?” He steps around in front of me, offering back his hand to lead me to the bus.

I pull up short on his hand, digging my feet into the gravel. “Cannon?”

He pivots, asking “what” with only his face.

“Thanks for getting the shells out of my hair and…noticing. And, uh, being so good with Conner, even Rhett. You’re a great addition and I’m glad you’re here.”

He steps into me and lifts my chin with his fingers. For seconds that feel much longer, he remains silent, searching the depths of my eyes with his own. I almost think he might kiss me until he speaks in a whisper so soft and low, I have to tilt toward him to hear. “I’m really glad I’m here too. More and more every day.”

I try to look away, needing reprieve from his permeating, consuming stare, but he now adds his thumb to hold my head in place. “Lizzie, if I kissed you right now, would even the slightest thoughts about it being too soon or rebounds run through your mind?”