Chapter 26 - Scott
“So, this is the place I made the reservation at. I saw you brought a dress.”
Chelsea looks at my phone. The smell of her seems to have been intensified by the swim in the ocean. It’s intoxicating.
“It says you can cancel it.”
What?
“What?”
She, I guess helpfully, points at the button, but doesn’t actually push it.
“Don’t you want to go to dinner? I mean, if you want, we could get takeout again. But it’s a nice place, great food…”
“Can we just go home?” she says.
“We are,” I say, pointing at the house.
Without Gary filming and Vivien directing—more like over directing—our every move, the short walk back to the house took no time at all.
Chelsea looks at the house and shakes her head.
“I mean home, you know, back in the city.”
“You want to drive back now?”
“We’ll miss the traffic.”
“What about dinner?”
“Vivien’s gone, Scott, you can cut the act.”
“How am I acting? I don’t have any lines. I just want to…go out for a nice dinner.”
Take her out for a nice dinner, I mean. The place I booked is five star, elegant. Part of my plan to show Chelsea what it would be like being my, well, not fiancée, but girlfriend, for real.
“Don’t you think we deserve a reward? We had the dragon director yelling at us all morning.”
Chelsea bites her lip, her soft, wonderful lip, that I had the immense pleasure of kissing. Vivien was right about one thing. The other kisses we’ve done on camera were nothing to brag about. But this one, was for real. And it was amazing. Maybe I actually owe Vivien a thank you.
“You’re going to love this place,” I assure Chelsea. She doesn’t say anything and now I’m feeling, well, honestly, a little desperate. “If you’re worried about the traffic, we can…get up early and drive home tomorrow morning.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Okay.”
She doesn’t sound particularly agreeable though. I decide not to waste the afternoon. I can be the perfect boyfriend all day if necessary.
“You said we were cold, how about we get in the hot tub?”
“Hot tub?”
“Right, you didn’t see the backyard. Come on.”
I lead her through the house and out back. The hot tub is in the corner, partially obscured by trellises, which are covered in climbing vines. The beach roses—that’s what I call them, I have no idea what they actually are—are in full bloom.
“Oh, this is so pretty.”
She reaches out and fingers one huge bloom, then buries her nose in it.
I start to tell her she’s pretty, but quickly bite my tongue. Tonight, when we go out to dinner, I’ll lay on the compliments.
“Do you mind using the outdoor shower first?” I say, pointing. “Helps keep the sand out of the hot tub.”
“Sure,” she says and strips down to her bikini again.
Seeing her dressed like that, in barely anything, sends the blood surging below my waist again. I had to swim around for a good long time, and think about baseball, before I was willing to get out of the water. When I found out Vivien had Gary turn the camera back on, I knew I made the right decision.
I take my time getting the cover off the hot tub, then turn around and look at Chelsea. She’s under the rainfall shower head, running her hands through her hair. With the green leaves and deep red roses all around her, she looks like she’s in a secluded lagoon on some speck of a tropical island, not a couple of hours from downtown Manhattan.
She turns and sees me looking at her. Oops. But I don’t regret it. I can’t. I could look at her all day.
‘Hot tub’s ready,” I say, pointing.
What would she do if I just slid into the shower with her?
Easy,I tell myself. Slow. Dinner. After dinner, hopefully a very romantic dinner, then I’ll make my move. Much classier.
She climbs into the hot tub, and I take her place in the shower. When I turn off the water, she’s got her head back on the built-in pillow and her eyes are closed. She looks extremely kissable.
What would she do if I kissed her? Slid my hands up her body and slowly untied her bathing suit? I’m never going to make it to dinner.
I slide into the tub across from her. I let my body relax, but behind my sunglasses, I study her face. God, she’s beautiful.
When she sits up and opens her eyes, I don’t react. As far as she knows I’m as zoned out as she was a minute ago.
“This is great, Scott. I’m glad you talked me into staying.”
“We deserve it. Since the show started I feel I’m…”
“On a treadmill? An endless treadmill?”
“Right.” I sit up, giving up all pretense that I’m not looking at her. “You always know what I mean. I love you for that.”
She looks startled. I didn’t mean to use the ‘L’ word. Whoops.
“I mean, well, I’ve told you I’m better when someone else writes the lines. You seem to always know what my cue it.”
“Oh, okay. I guess working together so much—”
“Is that it?”
“Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know.”
I do. It’s so much more than that. She smiles at me, and I get the feeling she is not in any big rush to get back to the city anymore. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my part.
But either way, I did promise we’d leave first thing in the morning. And I should make good on that promise. Show her that, no matter what, she can rely on me to keep my word, always. That part should be easy enough.