Surviving Us (9 page)

Love?! Who the hell said anything about the L-word?

The bomb Charlotte dropped before leaving my cottage ticks away in my head as I throw everything I need for the beach into my bag. I’ve known this guy one day, half of which we hardly spoke to one another, and she wants to talk about
love?
I’m not even sure I
like
him. Maybe she had too many mimosas or Bloody Mary’s at breakfast . . .

It’s a little past noon as I dawdle down the dirt road from my cottage to the main house, taking my sweet time looking at the different flowers and butterflies fluttering about. Lena greets me by name when I enter, her smile bright and merry, and I return the gleeful gesture.

My first stop is the small business center. I owe both Granny and Alyvia an email, which I should’ve done last night. The first, I type out quickly, assuring my grandma I’m alive and well and letting her know which unit I’m in. I struggle a little with the second, going back and forth whether to tell Lyv about the excitement of the trip thus far or not. I hate to make it seem like a big deal when, I’m not even sure if it
is
a deal.

For all I know, Davis found some island girl to hook up with while he’s here, or maybe he really is a cougar hunter and charmed the pants off of one of the older women. Maybe he regrets the whole ‘take this pretty little mouth’ spiel, a result of his adrenaline overload and alcohol intake from getting on a plane again. Maybe I need to stop worrying about ‘maybes’ and just let whatever happens, happen.

I choose not to mention him, keeping the wording optimistically vague, and instead, tell her about the picture-perfect place, delicious food, and the pimp-ass outdoor shower. Promising to check in again soon, I hit send, log out of my email, and bring it back to the home screen.

The beach is my next destination; after all, it
is
the main attraction of this place. Recalling Lena saying there is a restaurant and bar down there by the scuba shop, I sling my bag over my shoulder and follow the signs, ready to soak up some rays and enjoy a frozen fruity drink.

One hundred and sixty-six spiraling stairs later, I take my first ever step into the warm, soft, powdery sand. Immediately, I slip my feet out of my flip-flops, allowing my toes to sink into the golden sugar. My heart does a little dance of exhilaration, surprised at how fluid the fine granules feel as they slide across my skin, and I begin to skip over to one of the open beach chairs close to the water’s edge.

Surprised there aren’t many people down here, I wave a hello to Lynnette and another woman I recognize from last night
—Julia, I believe—who are eating over at the small restaurant. There are a few people out in the water, but none of them look like anyone I’ve met yet, so I spread my towel out on the chair, shed my cover-up, and make myself comfortable with some relaxing Jack Johnson in my earbuds and a steamy romance novel on my e-reader.

Soon after I’m settled, a guy dressed in a Ti Kaye t-shirt and board shorts approaches with a warm, welcoming smile and an outstretched hand. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Jerry, the person in charge of making sure everything you need down here at the beach is taken care of. How are you today?”

I turn down the music and shake his hand, impressed at the exceptional politeness of the staff. “Nice to meet you, Jerry. I’m Bristol, and I’m doing great, thank you.”

“Is there anything I can get for you to drink or eat? Might you be interested in exploring the reef with some snorkeling equipment?”

“I would love one of those rum-runners and a bottle of water for now. I think I’ll wait a little while before I grab a bite to eat, and I’m not so sure about snorkeling,” I laugh. “I probably need to brush up on my swimming a bit before I dive to the ocean floor.”

He chuckles and nods. “Well, that would be scuba diving not snorkeling, but I understand. I would definitely not recommend going alone, but I’m sure once you get out there, you’ll get the hang of it pretty quickly. I’ll grab those drinks for you, as well as a menu for when you’re ready to order, and be right back.”

Jerry disappears to the bar as I crank the tunes back up and dig into my book, basking in the bright rays of sunshine. Minutes later, my drinks are delivered and I immediately begin sipping from both, as the sizzling heat is already forming beads of sweat that trickle from my chest, between my breasts, and down my stomach, only to be stopped by my red bikini bottoms.

I attempt to read, but the glare makes it nearly impossible, even with my sunglasses on; plus, I keep getting distracted by people walking by and the jubilant sounds coming from the water. Wishing my friends were down here with me, I set the reading device down and lean my head back with closed eyes.

“So, I guess you made your decision,” Davis’ voice rumbles as a shadow looms in front of me, blocking the sun, “especially now that you know the kind of fucked-upness I really am?”

Slowly, I open my eyes and push the sunglasses up onto my head, staring straight into his unsettling eyes. “I think
you
made my decision for me last night,” I bite out, surprising even myself at the irritation in my voice.

“What are you talking about?” He crosses his arms, growing defensive. “After I told you my name and you figured out who I was, you haven’t even attempted to talk to me, and you sure as hell didn’t give me the kind of welcome you gave that
other
guy last night.”

“That
other
guy is like a big brother to me, someone I’ve talked to for over three years online, a
friend
I was excited about finally meeting!” My annoyance rapidly shifts into exasperated anger. I jump up out of the chair, yank my headphones out, toss them down, and get right up in his face . . . well, his chest rather, since I’m nearly a foot shorter than him. “Not that I owe you an explanation anyways, just like you don’t owe me one for whoever you had in your room last night! You,” I poke my finger into his sternum, emphasizing the word, “truly,” another poke, “are,” poke, “a,” poke, “dick!” The final poke is more like a jab to the gut, but I’m admittedly a little out of control right now.

Davis stands like a statue throughout my entire rant, his stoic face giving away nothing as far as emotions. “Are you finished?” he asks after my final stab.

I nod impassively, refusing to pull my eyes from his or back away, and wait for him to speak. Then, catching me completely off-guard, he swiftly grabs my face and crashes his lips onto mine.

IT TAKES EVERYTHING I
have not to smile as I watch Bristol throw her little fit. Knowing that she came by my place last night,
and
she’s jealous because she thinks I was there with another chick, makes my ego swell and my cock hard.

Once she’s finished digging her finger into my stomach and calling me a dick
—
which I usually am, but surprisingly don’t want to be one around her; I refuse to ask myself why this is
—I do exactly what I’ve yearned to do since the moment I laid eyes on her
. I claim her perfectly pouty lips with mine in demanding, caveman-esque fashion, hoping every person on this beach understands the statement I’m making.

I’m not sure if her ‘friend’ from last night is even out here, but I hope to God he is, because as a guy, I know with certainty the way he looked at her wasn’t how a
big brother
should look at his
little sister
. Ever. The way his eyes roamed up and down her body, how his hand splayed out on her bare back, holding her close to him, and the way he called her ‘baby girl’, all said plenty about his true intentions. I’m not usually one to cock-block, especially knowing the reason he’s even here is because something really fucked up has happened in his life, but I’ll be damned if he’s getting anywhere near Bristol while we’re here. She’s
mine.

Her lips part with no resistance as the tip of my tongue requests entrance, finally allowing me to savor the taste of her sugary sweetness. My hands glide around her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her silky hair as I continue to explore her mouth, our tongues curling around one another’s in an effortless, synchronized movement.

She moans into my mouth, a direct command for my cock to stand at full-attention, and suddenly, I no longer want these other people around us. They’re the
only
reason I’m not laying her flat on her back in the sand right now and devouring every inch of her body, like I’d promised her I’d do. And based on the way she’s digging her nails into my shoulders and not-so-subtly pressing her body into mine, I’m pretty sure it’s what she wants too.

Without breaking the kiss, I pull my fingers from her hair and lift her under the arms, up to my chest. Instinctively, she locks her ankles around my hips, the scorching heat from between her legs,
which is covered only by the thin material of her bikini bottoms, burns through my board shorts, engulfing my now throbbing dick.
Fuck.

I spin around and make a beeline for the ocean in desperate need to cool off, feeling like the king of the world with this smart, gorgeous girl clinging to me. Including today, I’ve got twelve days and twelve nights before I have to return to my tormented reality, and I intend to spend every moment I possibly can reveling in all that is Bristol Criswell, pretending for at least a little while that my soul didn’t die in that plane crash.

“Eeeek!” she shrieks into my ear as we barrel into the cool, refreshing water, our bodies still snugly pressed together. “It’s so cold!”

I laugh, releasing my grasp on her waist only long enough to splash water on her face. “You’re crazy; this feels amazing.”

“I’ve never been in the ocean, so I wasn’t sure what to expect,” she admits bashfully as I continue walking us out away from the shore and any other people, stopping once I’m about chest-deep. “Before yesterday, I’d never left the state of Oklahoma.”

“Wow, you
are
crazy,” I joke. “What have you been doing for the last nineteen years? Didn’t you go on family vacations when you were a kid?”

The moment the words come out of my mouth, her face falls, and I know I’ve fucked up. She’d mentioned yesterday her mom is dead, and obviously she’s here because something crazy happened to her, but even though I’m curious, I haven’t asked her about her story, mainly because I don’t want to talk about mine.

“I’m sorry, Bristol,” I apologize, feeling like an ass. “I didn’t me—”

She cuts me off, forcing a smile on her face. “It’s okay. I don’t want to talk about it now; I’m having too much fun, but before we leave, I’ll tell you about it. Okay?”