“Aha!” I picture her index finger shooting upward.
“What?”
“He wouldn’t have brought you if he’d known,” she repeats, preparing to make a point. “Proof right there that something has gone on between them and he knew the girl might be a problem. Think about it—if she was just his friend, she wouldn’t have any reason to make you question what kind of relationship they have. After he met me on the beach did he ever ask you if we’ve ever been more than friends?”
My nose crumples between my eyes. “No.” I laugh. “Why would he ask that?”
“My point exactly,” she says. “I didn’t give him any reason to think that, and that’s why he never asked. He slept with that girl. You can bet your ass on it, Sienna.”
I feel a pang in my stomach.
“Well, that doesn’t mean anything,” I say, still trying to defend Luke, but finding it harder to do. “So what if they’ve slept together. That doesn’t mean they’re still doing it, and it’s not really his fault if she still has a thing for him.”
“Maybe not,” Paige says, “but you could be setting yourself up for some drama regardless, that’s for sure.”
I cringe over that word. Drama. I hate it and fear it like the Dennings family probably hates and fears having to drive through the projects.
“Just watch yourself,” Paige adds. “See, I should be there with you. Just in case.”
I laugh and bring my legs up, propping my bare feet on the table.
“Oh please,” I say. “I can take you down, so I don’t really need your backup.”
A burst of air sounds in my ear.
“Hey!” she says with humor and pretend offense, “I’ll remember that next time you need help!”
“Yeah, too bad you’re not here in Hawaii. Soaking up the sun. Hanging out with me and Luke’s hot friends.” I have to mess with her.
“He has friends?”
“No, Paige, he’s a loner who lives in the mountains. Didn’t you see his knee-length beard?”
She laughs.
“I hope you have a good time,” she says, setting all jokes aside. “I really do. You’re right, you deserve it.” She pauses and then adds, “Who knows, maybe he won’t turn out to be an asshole and be perfect for you. Just don’t forget to keep in touch—tourists are often targeted, y’know. I worry about you.”
“I’ll keep in touch,” I tell her just before we say good-bye and hang up.
After a quiet moment, I look down into the phone and bring up the text message Luke sent me just before he left. *kisses your cheek* glows on the screen and my face flushes with heat every time I look at it.
Everything about this guy feels right. I’m not even sure what right means at this point, but I’m not giving up until I find out. As I stare at the screen, letting not just everything he’s ever said to me run through my head, but the three simple words on the screen itself, and I can’t help but wonder what Luke’s doing right now.
Finally I decide to take a leap, not caring if it makes me seem too forward, and I touch the screen just as the light is beginning to fade, and I begin to type:
What are you up to?
My heart is beating furiously now. Maybe I shouldn’t have texted him, after all. What if he doesn’t respond? I swallow nervously and sway my crossed feet side to side on the table.
Just lying here.
My heart skips a beat when I see his reply and my face spreads into a smile.
What about you?
I think about it for a moment, wanting to be as vague and simple as he’s being.
Just sitting on my balcony, I finally reply.
Luke: It’s a nice night.
Me: Yeah it really is.
There’s no response for six extremely long seconds.
Luke: I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.
Did my heart just melt? I think it seriously just melted.
Me: Me too. : -)
Luke: You can’t wait to see you tomorrow?
Me: You know what I mean. :-P
Luke: Come on, throw me a bone and just say it. You can’t wait to see me.
Now the six-second response time is all on me.
Luke: *pouty face*
Do I do it? No! I shouldn’t. We’ve not known each other long and he might think I’m easy or vulnerable or naïve or desperate.
Luke: Sienna?
Me: *kisses your cheek*
Six more long seconds.
Luke: : -) See you tomorrow.
Me: : -) Good night.
I don’t care if Kendra is threatened by me or if the two of them used to have a thing. The past is the past. The only thing that worries me is the future.
I have to go home sometime.
THIRTEEN
Sienna
The alarm on my phone wakes me to the sound of crickets the next morning. My eyes open a slit to see the clock on the nightstand glaring eight a.m. back at me. Immediately, I leap out of the bed, nearly tripping over my shoes. I’m going to be late for work—I’m always up at seven to get ready. My heart is racing something fierce by the time I realize that I don’t have work today, or tomorrow, or the day after that. Letting out a long breath, I press my palm against my heart.
“Get a grip,” I tell myself.
I walk over and open the long curtains on the windows to let the sun shine through. Then I hop in the shower and shave again even though I showered and shaved last night. I don’t want even a millimeter of regrowth anywhere on my body. Not that I plan on letting Luke feel me up, but … well … he might touch my knee again, or pat my leg like he did yesterday. Or, take it upon himself to remove my shoes, which, in turn, means he’ll touch my ankles.