“What about you?” I ask. “Anything worse than overthinking, and manipulating poor unsuspecting guys?”
She reaches out and gently hits me on the arm; the playful gesture and red in her face give me the urge to grab her around the waist—this holding back shit for the sake of being a gentleman is excruciating work.
Sienna looks up at the sky, pursing her lips contemplatively, and then she says, “I’m kind of a neat freak, and I tend to overdo things because I don’t like to be caught off guard.”
“Hmm,” I hum through my closed lips, nodding. “I dunno; I don’t think that’s much of a flaw.”
“Well, neither do I!” She laughs. “It’s something Paige apparently thinks is a flaw—she reminds me on a daily basis. But I like being neat and in control and prepared.”
“And I like doing ‘risky’ things,” I say, our smiles matching.
We head out into the waves and all I can think about anymore is how short three hours really is.
EIGHT
Sienna
Rock climbing. Hang gliding. Cliff-diving. Skydiving. These are things I know I could never do—my fear of heights pretty much makes it impossible—but there’s nothing wrong with someone else doing things like that. It seems dangerous, sure, but most people probably wouldn’t do it if it was too dangerous.
I don’t think too much more about it—I’m having too much fun surfing—but it lingers quietly in the back of my mind.
After two and a half hours of failing miserably at my first time surfing, I’m already beginning to dread the last thirty minutes before I have to leave. I don’t want to go. I want to stay with Luke. I want to run back to the hotel and grab my camera and snap so many shots of this beautiful island that it makes my head spin and drains my battery. I want to see waterfalls and whales and professional surfers ride big waves and I want to lie against the sand and look up at the stars when night falls.
I don’t want to go home. Not yet.
But I have to.
I fall off my board again, sinking beneath the water and sucking more saltwater into my nose.
Luke’s strong arm hooks around my waist from beneath the water as he helps me to the surface. My eyes have been stinging for the past hour and I know they must be red-rimmed and bloodshot.
“You’re doing awesome?” he lies, but I think it’s adorable.
“Thanks!” I yell over the sound of a few crashing waves around us. “But I think I could do better.”
“You’ve done better than a lot of people their first time,” he says, steadying himself back on his board in an upright sitting position. “Caught six small waves—that’s pretty good.”
“But I still fell.” I laugh and crawl on top of my board to sit like him, straddling my legs on either side.
“Falling is inevitable for beginners,” he says, “but catching six waves isn’t—give yourself some credit.” He smiles, the sun beaming off the droplets of water lingering on his tanned face and dripping from the hair pushed back away from his forehead.
He looks incredible, I can’t stop myself from glimpsing him when he’s not looking. My stomach flip-flops every time he touches me, whether to help me get back on my board, or to pull me from underneath the water, when he places his hands on my hips, gently helping me with my form—all things that I can really do myself for the most part, but couldn’t bring myself to protest. I actually look forward to it each time.
And sometimes I find myself instigating it.
Gah! I’m like a little girl with a crush!
Once again, reality rears its ugly head and ruins the moment. “I’m not looking forward to going back to work,” I say, gazing across the water at the hotel a pretty good distance away.
Luke paddles over a little closer to where the sides of our boards touch.
“You don’t seem happy with your job,” he says.
I shake my head slightly, still looking toward the hotel. Flashes of the wedding ceremony and of Mrs. Dennings and her evil spawn of a daughter dance through my mind.