Give Me a Chance (BYC #2)

5. Natalie

5

NATALIE

T oday. . .

Sitting in the private airplane Connor charted, I mentally check the items from my to do list, once again. You can never be too careful, and if I forgot something, now would be the last second to do something about it. Running the list through the end, I exhale a long breath, deciding it’s time to relax.

It’s who I am. I make lists for everything I can and follow them to a T. The internet would say it’s a defense mechanism, and I’d probably agree.

There’s comfort in that. Having things under control calms me down.

When I’m nervous, it’s more pronounced. Even Matt noticed it while we planned the bachelor and bachelorette party.

“What do you have there?” he asked as I pulled out the color-coded paper from my planner.

“A list.” I shrugged.

“A list?”

“Yeah, a to-do list of all the things needed to be done for the bachelorette party.”

“Wow, suddenly I feel under prepared.” This made me laugh.

“Don’t worry, you should be able to do it without it. I simply prefer my lists.”

“So, you make these often?” He eyed me with interest.

“Maybe,” I responded ambiguously, remembering that even though we were forced to be friendly—he wasn ’ t a friend.

The flight attendant asks us to turn off our phones, so I quickly shoot my mom a text, telling her we’re about to take off.

The plane is gorgeous, all white leather and comfortable seats. The seats are recliners, and more spacious than I’m used to, and the earthy scent of leather isn’t too bad as well.

Connor and Eric are sitting together, while Rina sits next to her future mother-in-law. Matt is across from me with Connor’s dad, and Anne and Noah are at the back of the plane. They are flying us all to Croatia, where we’ll take a week-long yacht trip. We’ll swim, enjoy ourselves and party and on the fifth day, my best friend will get married to the love of her life.

Aside from Rina’s parents, who are Croatian, all the wedding guests are here on this tiny plane. They wanted a small wedding in Rina’s home country, and the plan sounds perfect.

As soon as the seat belt sign is off, Eric leaps out of his seat and jumps in next to me. I can’t believe he is already six years old. I remember when he was a tiny ultrasound picture, living inside of Rina in my spare bedroom. They have come a long way. Now they have Connor, but even before him, they were a beautiful little family. My bonus family.

“Want to play a game?” he asks, his hazel eyes—identical to his mother’s—wide open.

“Sure, let’s check what I got!” I open my bag, pretending not to know what’s inside.

I take out Chutes and Ladders, Connect Four, both travel sized, and a set of Uno cards before he decides it’s the cards he wants to play. Using the convenient pop-up table, we start playing. Laughter fills the plane as he throws me a Draw 4 card, but I quickly get revenge throwing two Draw 2 cards.

We have a great time, as we typically do, and continue playing after the flight attendant brings us drinks. Eric drinks his juice when I notice Matt looking at us. There is something I don’t recognize in his eyes. Something like longing. He looks as if he’s unaware of it and doesn’t move his gaze until I give him a pointed look. He shoots me a tiny smile before looking away.

We’ve been good lately. Planning the parties wasn’t as terrible as I expected it to be.

Still, I feel awkward around him. There is too much...everything. Too much tension, too much resentment, and way too much attraction.

Hopefully, this yacht is big enough for us to steer clear of each other.

Eleven hours later, we are dead on our feet, walking out of the plane at Zadar Airport. We had a red-eye flight, but each of us managed to sleep only a small part of the plane ride. We get in the three taxi cars waiting for us and head straight to the harbor.

The sun is already on its way up, illuminating our surroundings, and exposing the breathtaking view. Nestled on a small peninsula, the city is bounded by Roman-times city walls, and surrounded by the navy-blue sea. In the harbor, hundreds of sailboats, smaller fishing boats, and yachts rock peacefully on the early morning waves.

Our boat is a huge, 40-meter-long yacht, named ‘Malena.’ The crew members inform us it’s a Croatian term of endearment for a loved woman or girl. Seven spacious cabins mean each of us singles gets a cabin to themselves, which seems necessary considering the amount of sleep I need to catch up on.

Taking a quick shower to scrub off all the grime from the trip, I land on the bed ten minutes later and fall asleep in an instant.

I’m woken up to the bright sun beaming through my window, since I hadn’t had the wits to draw the blackout curtains. The bed is gigantic and the most comfortable thing I’ve ever slept on, but the phone on the bedside table shows it’s noon. Time to get up and get this party started.

Most of the guests are still in their cabins, so I take a tour of the gorgeous yacht. There are three decks in total, but the biggest and most beautiful one is the top sun deck, which spans almost the entire size of the boat. The flooring is light wood with stainless steel railings all around it. On one side, there are sun beds to enjoy your time in the sun, and in the middle, there’s a giant dining room table that will easily fit us all.

Behind the table, I hear grunting, so I step closer to see what’s going on. I quickly regret that decision. Using the shade above the dining table, there’s a half-naked and sweaty Matt doing push-ups on the floor. He doesn’t notice me approaching, so I drink him in for a second before clearing my throat.

He looks up, surprise on his face and leans back on his feet, giving me an even better view. Sweat drips down his hard pecs, so my gaze traces a drop over the sculpted abs to the waistband of his shorts where it disappears. His chest is smooth, and I ache to drag my hands all over it. Better yet, my tongue.

On the night we don’t speak of, I didn’t have the chance to actually see him. We were clothed and in a hurry. There wasn’t time, nor opportunity, to see the way his muscles contract while he’s pumping his way inside of me. I knew he was an athlete most of his life, but I certainly hadn’t expected a life-size Adonis kneeling in front of me.

Somehow, I draw my gaze up to his face and wish I didn’t. There’s a smirk on his lips, telling me I’ve been busted. He gets up from the floor, throwing a towel around his neck, and passes by me to get downstairs.

I’m not proud to say I checked out the back side too—spoiler: it was as good as the front. Not that I’m ashamed of checking a guy out. Nope, shame is not a word in my vocabulary.

But he can’t be a person of interest. For multiple reasons. First, and most important, been there, done that. I don’t make a habit of letting guys double dip. Even casual relationships are too close to relationships for me. Second, and no less important, he’ll be practically family in a few days when Rina and Connor get married. Which means, uncomplicated isn’t an option, and I don’t do complications. Our one night at the bar already backfired, resulting in a year of annoying our friends with our hostility and an awkwardness that shows no sign of receding.

At least before our truce I had a vent to release some of the feelings I get when I look at him.

But now, being nice to him? It’ll be a long week.