“Are you Jewish?” I ask, glancing up to her.
Her eyes brows furrow. “What? No?”
I smile, pointing down to the sticker placed on the top corner of the book: National Jewish Book Award.
She half smiles, “Oh, I hadn’t noticed that. A lot of the story focuses on a holocaust survivor,” she pauses, “but I’m not really… anything. Are you religious?”
I mull over her question, contemplating the cruelties of life that I’ve seen firsthand. “No. But I grew up Catholic. My parents and brother still practice.” I draw a line around my neck. “My dad has worn a heavy gold Crucifixion necklace since before I can remember.”
She smiles at the idea. “How very Boston of him.”
I laugh, a little too loud, and people turn to glare back at us.
“It’s only funny because it’s true,” I admit. “What about your dad, is he religious?” I purposely glaze over her mom; I don’t want to upset her.
Her face falls so suddenly and harshly that she takes my heart with it. “He’s dead. But he used to take me to church when I was younger.”
I’m beginning to understand that being around Charley is like walking on a minefield, but it’s worth the fight. It’s worth treading lightly to unveil the girl behind those blue eyes.
“My mom never came because he insisted on taking us to the one of the nondenominational community churches. Let’s just say she did not approve. On any given Sunday, we’d sit crammed between a single mom of five and a homeless person. But it was a humbling experience, and I’m grateful he took me. Even if the religion itself didn’t stick, the lessons did.”
“He sounds like a great dad,” I murmur.
Turning back to look out through the window, she mumbles, “I thought so too.”
“When did he pass away?”
She pauses a beat too long before answering, and I realize I’m once again treading on thin ice with her.
“Four years ago,” she says finally before turning toward me. “Could I read that book now?”
…
We end up reclining our chairs and reading in silence for a while. Every now and then she gasps quietly, completely lost in her own world, and I can’t help but watch her. Does she always get carried away in the books she reads, or only in thrillers? Either way, it’s adorable. When her eyes grow wide and she mumbles “no way” under her breath, I can’t resist the urge to make her show me what part she’s on. Every time she angles the book toward me and points her finger to the sentence. I read the passage and give her a knowing glance before letting her get back to it.
Eventually, we sleep on and off for a few hours. Every time I wake up, Charley is sleeping soundlessly. She’s wrapped in the blanket and pillow that the airline supplied us, but her blonde hair shimmers on top of the drab, gray wool. When we first went to sleep she was leaning away, toward the window, but I guess she had moved closer while I napped because her sweet face angles toward me now.
Bright sunlight streams through the window covers, highlighting a piece of wavy blonde hair that lies across her eyelid. I reach over to push it away, watching her peaceful inhales and exhales. When my hand touches her, I expect her to stir, but she hums and pushes her cheek against my palm affectionately. The act is so innocent and I momentarily lose myself in her. Instead of pulling away, I leave my hand there— cupping her cheek and running my thumb gently along the soft skin of her cheekbone. The movements lull me back to sleep.
When I wake an hour later, my hand has fallen down to cup her neck. A small smile forms on my lips even before I blink to find her blue eyes staring back at me in amusement.
“Hi,” she whispers.
I smile lazily, blinking my eyelids open.
“I thought your hand was part of my dream.” Her words hold so much promise.
“Were you dreaming about me, Charley?” I ask with a dark tone.
She sucks in her bottom lip coyly and nods but never looks away. Maybe she’s slowly beginning to trust me?
I lean forward until my lips brush her earlobe. “You were cuddled against the seat facing me; I thought you wanted me to touch you.”
She blushes and laces her fingers with mine over her neck. We sit frozen, drowning in one another, and enjoying the moment until her breathing changes and I feel her pulse quicken beneath my hand.
“I was mad at you,” she pauses. “I’m still mad at you, for interfering with my career.”
“I’ll never do it again. I honestly didn’t think about it from your perspective. I thought you’d be happy about it.”
She nods and her chin brushes against my hand. “I am. I’m confused, yes, but overall, I’m happy about being here.”
“With me?”
Her breath hits the side of my face as I listen to her ragged inhales.
“Yes.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Charley
The hotel is beyond my wildest expectations. Although, you can hardly even refer to it as a hotel— that insinuates a multistory building with hundreds of rooms. The Kaunaou is an intimate resort, boasting fewer than fifty guests at a time, with a staff member dedicated to every suite. Our crew makes up more than half of the rooms, but the other patrons look like well-to-do families from all around the world. I wonder if they knew a swimsuit photo shoot would infiltrate their vacation?
I wasn’t sure what to expect for the room situations, but it turns out that while some of the crew is sharing rooms, the models and important staff members get to enjoy the luxury of having their own suite. I’m smiling at the thought of how good it’ll feel to sleep in a luxurious bed later when Jude strolls over to me with two room keys in hand. They aren’t the standard electronic cards; they’re intricate gold keys attached to a sand dollar key chain. Immediately, I wonder how long it’ll be before I lose mine.
“Suites 11 and 12,” he gloats, holding out one of the keys to our adjacent rooms.
“Coincidence?” I ask with a wink.
His delectable lips twist up into a smirk. “I think you know the answer to that.”
I laugh, “Ah, is it one of the perks of being friends with the director?”
“Something like that. Let me get your bags.” He reaches down and grabs my suitcase, but I keep my carry-on wrapped around my body.
“I got this,” I smile, and he doesn’t fight me on it as we start to wander toward our rooms. The journey takes us much longer than it should have because we keep stopping to marvel at the absolute beauty that is Hawaii. We saw an aerial view of the islands from the airplane, but standing in paradise feels completely different. The resort is open and airy. There’s no clear delineation between the outdoors and the interior of the building, just sloped roof structures and pillars every now and then. The crystal clear water practically laps up into the hotel and a rush of excitement passes through me at the idea of getting to swim in it tomorrow.
I wish we had the time today, after all, it’s only three in the afternoon, but I have a few fittings and makeup tests before the shoot tomorrow morning. Those are the last things I want to be doing after traveling over ten hours, but it shouldn’t take all night.
I pull my gaze from the beach and glance down the corridor. We pass room 15 then room 14, and I realize we’re getting closer.
“Do you have a preference of rooms?”
I slide my eyes over to him, and with a smile, I ask, “Am I allowed to pick after we see the views?”
“What!” His eyes dance with humor and he narrows them as a grin spreads across his lips. Suddenly the air between us sparks and the game is on.
In a flash, he drops my bags and takes off down the hallway with me at his heels. Sliding the key into the lock on room 12, he pushes the door open and I duck under his arm and inspect the room. It’s completely breathtaking and without a doubt it has the same exact view as room 11, but it doesn’t matter. We have to look at them both. I reach up and tug room 11’s key out his hand and dart out into the hall to unlock the next door. He’s yelling behind me, but I heave the door open and smile when I see that there’s no palm tree obstructing the view of the ocean from this room.
“Mine!” I yell, right as Jude screams, “This one’s mine!”
We erupt in laughter, but I can’t let him win. I run over and jump up onto the bed like a ten-year-old. “Sorry, Jude, but the room has been claimed!”
He waggles his eyebrows seductively and throws his leather jacket onto one of the nearby desk chairs. “Oh, really? Cause it looks like I’ve already put my jacket down.” He shrugs his arms and cocks his brow, as if to say ‘tough luck, kid’.
My arms cross over my chest and I stand a little taller. “Don’t worry, I’ll call room service and explain the situation. I’m sure they can hang up your jacket in room 12 because that’s your room.”
“Is that so, Whitlock?” His sharp blue eyes dare me to keep playing the game, and it’s an offer I can’t refuse.
My hip juts out to the side. “Looks like it, Anderson,” I spit with all of the sass I wish I actually possessed.
He takes a predatory step forward and my body starts to tremble. All at once the memories from the dance floor flood my brain and I know I’m in over my head. This is Jude’s game and his rules. He takes another step and then another, and already my heart is beating a wild rhythm.
“Sir. Sir?” A voice calls from the hallway. A moment later, a young bellboy arrives outside of the door holding our bags and eyeing us suspiciously. Our race down the hallway surely caused a commotion.
Jude turns around with a frustrated sigh, not happy about being interrupted, but when he sees the bell boy holding our bags, his demeanor relaxes. He walks with confident strides to retrieve our luggage and tip the boy.
As he slips his wallet out of his back pocket, he shakes his head regretfully, but I can tell he’s still being playful.
“Sorry about that.” He angles his head back to me, “my friend and I were racing to see who could get to our rooms first. She’s a bad influence on me.” A loud chuckle escapes me and I clap my hands over my mouth. As Jude hands over some cash, the bellboy glances fleetingly up at me standing on the bed and his face reddens. Jude follows his glance with a wicked grin.
He tisks, shaking his head admonishingly. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll punish her for hopping up on the bed like that.” I think the bell boy’s eyes almost bulge out of his head at Jude’s joke, but then he turns on his heels and hurries down the hall before Jude can assure him that he’s kidding. Poor kid.
A soft chuckle sounds from Jude as he closes the door and turns back to me with a hungry gaze.
“You can punish me all you want, but the rooms mine,” I smirk.
Quicker than I could have imagined, Jude’s across the room and pulling my feet out from under me so that I fall back onto the bed with a loud thud. I gasp in surprise as the pillows catch my head, but before I can even think to react, he drags me down by my boots so that my legs hang off the bed.
My heart is practically in my throat as he bends down to hover over me, placing each of his hands on either side of my head. I have no clue what we’re doing, but I don’t want him to stop. I feel like I’ll spontaneously combust if he walks away now.