Chapter 24
Danni
I’m on Chance’s shoulders. His very, very strong, naked shoulders. My bare legs are touching his naked neck. I hope he’s up-to-date on his water safety protocols because I might pass out, and he’s the one I want administering CPR.
No, you don’t. Shut up, Danni.
While I’m adjusting to the sensory overload, Morgan reaches for me, claws in full attack mode. Drew is facilitating her charge, his floppy bangs plastered against his forehead, his lightly bronzed skin contrasting with the crystal blue water. Next thing I know, Morgan’s hands are on me, gripping my biceps, trying to tear me off of Chance. My legs have no intention of letting go of Chance. Ever. We wrestle clumsily while the guys cheer us on, Morgan giggles, and I focus singularly on her demise.
Turns out, she’s stronger than me, or maybe Chance’s foot slips. One of the two, or both, because I lose my balance and plow face-first into the pool.
The sound of roiling water overtakes me, and I add to it by blowing air out my nose so I don’t choke. I’m like a fish in a bowl until strong hands grab my waist and pull me upright. As the water pours off my face, I open my eyes to skin. Lots of it. Slippery and wet, molded over well-defined muscles. My face is mere inches from Chance’s pecs while his hands still anchor my waist.
I look up at him. Water beads down his forehead and cheeks, caresses his cheekbones and sturdy chin. He licks his lips which are drenched and glistening. I can almost taste them.
He grins. “This is familiar.”
All too familiar, but no good can come of falling for a player who bjorks my code. I twist out of his grip, “No it’s not,” I say. I show him my back and do a dolphin dive with vigorous flutter kicks to splash some sense into him.
Like an eel, I circle around, push off the wall and swim to the shallow end. When I resurface, Morgan is sitting on the edge with Drew at her feet. She eyes me knowingly, a hint of satisfaction on her face.
“Let’s go to the hot tub,” she says to Drew while grinning at me.
I shoot her the stink eye which only widens her grin.
Drew hops out of the pool and follows Morgan. They both slide into the hot tub and then Morgan is on Drew like melted cheese on a hot pizza. I quickly avert my eyes.
Chance is mid-pool, facing me. He wades tentatively through the water until he’s inches away. I scramble to the steps, find secure footing, and then sit. Chance won’t relent. He follows me over, sits on the other side of the stainless steel handrail.
We’re quiet as gentle waves bob on the surface of the water, flattening as the silence between us lingers. Drew murmurs something to my right and Morgan giggles, but I don’t dare look over. I might toss my cookies.
Although, shirtless, covered in water, without his thick-rimmed glasses, Drew looks more appealing. I suppose Morgan’s fascination makes some sense. But I don’t think she realizes she has to talk to him after they’re done sucking face. Her problem, not mine.
“I feel like you’re mad at me,” Chance says.
“I’m not mad.” I say it too quickly, which makes it sound like I’m mad. I am totally not mad.
“Okay. You seem a little cranky, then.”
I whip my head to flash him my “on no you didn’t” face.
He’s smiling. When we lock eyes, he chuckles.
“Was that one of your jokes?”
“Sorta.”
I break eye contact and refocus on the transparent water. “So you sorta think I’m cranky.”
Chance adjusts his position and his knees come dangerously close to touching my thigh, which reminds me of how amazing it felt sitting on his sturdy shoulders.
My body and my logical mind clearly aren’t in sync. I’m deferring to my mind. “I might be a little grumpy at times,” I admit. “I’m not sure Chai World is time well spent, to be honest. Part of me would rather be in the office working on the benefits portal app.”
“I’m enjoying being here with you,” Chance says.
Players gonna play.
“Nice try,” I say to Chance’s knee, “but it’s not going to work.”
“What’s not going to work?” The confusion is apparent in his voice, and probably on his face too, but I’m not giving my body the satisfaction of looking at his gorgeous mug.
“You are not turning me into a Chanceling.”
If eyebrows made noise, his would probably be squeaking right now, but again, not looking at him.
He grabs my hand. My eyes rest on his face. Drat. “What are you doing?”
“Why won’t you talk to me, Danni?”
And just like that, my body is in control again. I fall back against the step. How can my name coming out of his mouth render me so useless?
Systems check. Arms? Immobile. Legs? Worthless. Heart? In the red. Logic? Fuzzy. Diagnostic report: Speak your truth firmly to re-exert control of bodily functions.
“I’m not one of your conquests, Chance. We’re not hooking up tonight.”
“I don’t want to hook up,” he says with an exasperated sigh. “I just want to know why you hate me.”
I turn so fast that water sloshes against the edge of the pool. “I saw you with Bedhead Becky.”
Why is he grinning? This isn’t funny. “With who?”
“Bedhead Becky. Sunday morning. In the red dress that barely covered her derriere.”
Chance’s chest buckles. He catches his head in his hands, pausing there for a moment before rubbing his face. “I’m sorry you saw that.”
“You’re sorry you slept with her after kissing me or you’re sorry I saw you with her.”
Chance jumps back like he did that day in the office when I barely touched him. If I touch him now, lightning bolts will come out of his head like a Tesla coil. “No, that’s not what happened. That is not what happened at all.” He presses his palms against the air to punctuate his statement.
“Didn’t get lucky then?”
“Danni.” He says it forcefully, without a hint of huskiness. I might like this way even better. “She got really drunk on our date and I didn’t know where she lived. I let her sleep on my bed while I slept on my couch.”
I regard him cautiously trying to assess whether he has any tells: a twitchy lip, a nervous wiggle. Anything to indicate that he’s lying to me.
He just looks like Chance. An offended Chance, actually.
“What did you expect me to think?” I ask. “You made it very clear on our first date that you’re just a player trying to get some.”
Now he’s offended, like I just said his mom cheats on his dad with the Eiffel Tower, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and various other European landmarks.
“Where did you get that idea?” he asks after he cools down a bit.
“Match.com, Christian Mingle, Zoosk, Farmers Only.”
Chance’s memory banks unlock and realization bursts forth, making his head heavy again. He catches it with his hands. Again. This must be his tell. He’d be horrible at Poker.
“Caught ya in a lie, didn’t I?”
He gives his face a single rub and then lowers his hands and shifts his body to look at me straight on. “I can understand why you got the wrong idea. But I am not a player, Danni. I’m looking for my soulmate. That’s why I go on lots of dates. Not to hook up.”
His comment requires much blinking on my part. I have to look away while doing so, however, because Chance’s face has gone soft and his eyes have smoldered down to their last ember, making them kinder, more approachable, but no less sexy.
“Soulmates don’t exist,” I say.
“That’s what you said on our date.”
I peek at him, not trusting my body with a lingering gaze. “Because it’s true.”
“I don’t agree. And I’m determined to prove you wrong.”
“By going on more dates.”
“Danni.” Husky is back. “The day after I saved you from the spider, I canceled all my dates. Or I tried to. Savannah never texted back and I didn’t want to stand her up. In hindsight, I should have.”
Both of our bodies are pointing toward the deep end now. Chance’s forearms are resting on his thighs, his hands loosely folded together, water dripping from his fingers.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
That’s the sound of my resolve leaking away. Why would he cancel his dates? I think on this for a moment before it hits me like a cudgel. Adrenaline lights me on fire.
“I’m done swimming,” I say hastily as I rise to my feet. “I…I didn’t bring a towel.”
“They have complimentary towels.”
“Okay. I need one.”
“Danni?”
“Hmm?” I turn my head like I’m going to glance at him, but I can’t quite manage it. Mostly because he can’t know I look like a Flamin’ Hot Cheeto.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m great,” I lie. “Just tired.”
“Do you mind if I come up with you?”
“Sure. To sleep. In your room.”
“Of course.”
He passes me up, grabs three towels, hands two to me, and uses the third to wipe down his chest and legs. So help me, my eyes are glued to that towel, or what’s under the towel. It doesn’t help the Flamin’ Hot Cheeto situation.
I spin around and dry off with my back facing him, my focus shifting from the empty hot tub to the floor and then back again.
“Morgan and Drew already went up,” I say.
I hear the flapping of terry cloth as Chance dries his hair. When he’s done, I veer around him with my eyes fixed on the floor, and quickly slide on my clothes. We toss our towels into the receptacle and then Chance opens the door for me.
The lobby is frigid, which is just what I need. It cools my face and my adrenaline as we head to the elevator. We ride up in silence, Chance leaning against the back wall, while I wait impatiently for the door to open. I reach my door first and knock. Morgan took our key card down. I left mine on the dresser.
A few seconds later I stick my eye on the peephole and knock again. Beside me, Chance is having better luck. It helps that he brought his key card.
“Night, Danni,” he says before disappearing into his hotel room.
“No!” a voice calls from the darkness, curiously similar to Drew’s when someone questions his code.
Chance reappears in the hallway looking two shades lighter. He looks at me wide-eyed and gaping, and then turns back toward his room. “I need my–”
His bag flies out of the room and hits him in the stomach. Seconds later, a suitcase rolls into the hallway. And then another. The door slams in his face, and Chance, still lighter than usual, flits his eyes from me to his luggage and then back at me again.
A shuffling noise directs both of our eyes to the bottom of the door. My room key slides through the crack.
Chance
“What now?” Danni asks.
“We leave them alone.”
Danni peers down the long hallway that’s carpeted with a muted geometric pattern. Her eyes travel back to me. “I mean, they have the room with two beds.”
Of course I know this. It was the first thing I thought of when Drew slammed the door in my face. And I don’t have a solution. I just know sharing a bed with Danni seems improper. “I could sleep in the van.”
“You’d wake up with whiplash and have to wear sweatpants around your neck.”
“I could sleep on the floor?”
Danni thinks a moment and then squeezes her eyes shut.
“Intrusive thoughts?”
She nods. “I can see everything that’s happened on that floor, including, but not limited to vomit, toddler accidents, and adult things that leave a sticky mark. Mostly that last one.”
“Luckily it’s fake wood so they can sanitize it.”
“But do they, though?”
“I’m willing to risk it.”
Danni looks uncertain, but she nods. I guess we’re sharing a room. She grabs one of my suitcases. I grab the other and we roll them to her door. I hover the card in front of the scanner until I hear the click and then we reluctantly enter.
The rumors are true. There’s only one bed. And a table and two chairs next to the window and all the other standard amenities. I roll over to the window and stare at a chair because I don’t know what to do with my body.
“Um. I’m going to shower,” Danni says behind me.
I spin around to take her in. The wet hair, water-stained joggers, the clear complexion. It all comes flooding back. The way she looked in that two-piece, her abs slightly defined. Her weight on my shoulders, her soft legs pressing against my chest, begging me to run my hands down them.
I was a gentleman. I held on to her only to keep her from falling. But then my foot slipped, which gave me an excuse to grab her tight waist and pull her out of the water, the two of us face-to-face, dripping wet and out of breath.
“Okay, then,” she says, waking me up from my Danni daydream.
How long was I staring at her? The two of us are sharing a room and I’m acting like a creeper. Not a good way to start this off. “Enjoy,” I say, trying to stay casual even though she has me feeling anything but.
Danni grabs her bag, disappears into the bathroom, and turns on the water. The sound relaxes me a bit. Adds some distance. A buffer.
My eyes rest on the remote control. I consider claiming a chair. I poke the bed.
The pillowtop is soft. Like Danni’s thighs when I squeezed them.
I’m sure the floor is comfortable too. I give it a try, flat on my back with my hands supporting my head. Sooo comfortable. And hard. And cold.
I sit up because I can’t handle lying still, and then I can’t handle sitting, so I stand and pace the room.
I’m going to be up all night thinking about Danni while lying next to Danni, yet separated by a chasm of discomfort.
The van is starting to sound like a more viable option.
Unless…
I grab the phone and dial up the front desk. A chipper woman answers.
“Do you have any cots?” I ask.
“Oh. I’m afraid not. We’re booked solid and they’re all in use.”
“How about an extra blanket or two?”
“I’m sure I can find one. I’ll have someone bring it up.”
I thank her, hang up the phone, and perch on the pillowtop, enjoying the way it hugs my body like Danni might hug my body if we shared this bed.
I shoot up and resume pacing. I’ve only kissed one girl one time. It’s too soon for full-body hugs and other things. Would I even know what to do?
With Danni, I think it would come naturally. I wouldn’t even have to think. Instinct would take over, my hand trailing along her neck and her clavicles, our mouths stitched together for eons, unable to let go.
The shower turns off, and the abrupt silence makes me feel like I’ve been caught. I jog over to the chairs, choose one and settle into it. My phone is still in the other room. I have nothing to do with my hands. I should have turned on the TV.
The bathroom door opens and Danni appears in floral pajama bottoms and a loose cotton top. Her hair is wound up in a white towel, giving her pink cheeks all the focus. The smells of soap and shampoo find me before Danni’s eyes do.
Awkwardness renders us both mute. She fills it by grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. “Wanna watch something?” she asks without looking at me.
“I smell like chlorine.”
“Do you wanna watch something while smelling like chlorine?”
“I think I’d rather not smell like chlorine.” My brain and my mouth aren’t cooperating. I think I’m trying to say I need a shower.
“Do you want to shower?” Danni says for me.
I nod and dart past her, closing myself in the bathroom. Then I remember I need my pajamas. So, I buzz back into our shared space, fumble through my bag and then disappear again, this time behind a wall of water.
Danni
I sit on the edge of the bed, comb my fingers through my wet hair and flip through channels. After my third circuit through the offerings, I realize I haven’t been paying attention at all. Instead, I’ve been thinking about Chance, who is in the shower. Showering. In the room right next to me.
I don’t even want to think about what Drew and Morgan are doing one room over. Luckily the walls are thick. However, if I know Morgan, she’s exercising some restraint. Maybe? I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. But we’ll be having a chat when this is over. I need to know why she thought it was okay to leave me high and dry, alone with Chance and only one bed.
I haven’t spent the night with a guy since I was dating Zane, and now I’m spending the night, sorta, with my coworker. Who I kissed a few days ago. This isn’t at all weird or uncomfortable or…tempting, which explains the two little gymnasts in my stomach doing twirly whirlys. I stand, shake my arms, and pace the length of the room.
We’re adults. We’re both keeping our clothes on. Duh. And he’s sleeping on the floor. The cold, hard floor while I get the comfy bed with the piles of pillows. That’s fair. I’m the girl. Chivalry and all that.
I pause and look down at the fake wood that’s fake stained a dark brown, and then I contemplate the bed, which is rather wide and long. We could both lay there easily without touching each other.
Unless I decided I wanted to touch him. Being so close would make it easier to do something I’d regret.
Maybe there’s a third option.
I grab the phone and dial the front desk. A chipper woman answers.
“Do you have any cots?” I ask.
“Oh. I’m afraid not. We’re booked solid and they’re all in use.”
“How about extra pillows?”
“I’m sorry, no.”
“Blankets?”
“I might be able to find one. If I do, I’ll send someone up.”
“Thanks.”
After I hang up the phone, someone knocks on the door. It’s got to be Morgan. Thank goodness. This solves everything.
An eager peek through the peephole dashes my hopes. It’s a hotel employee with an extra blanket. That was fast. Too fast. Like, weird fast.
Just in case, I attach the chain and open the door.
“You asked for an extra blanket?” the guy asks.
“Yeah. Thirty seconds ago.”
I make him stuff the blanket through the narrow opening and then shut the door. The fabric is thin, like a hospital blanket. Maybe Chance can fold it into thirds?
The shower turns off and my adrenaline spikes. I dive for the bed and climb under the covers like Chance is going to instantly prance out of the room naked and dripping
Being a proper gentleman, Chance takes his time drying off and putting on his clothing. He exits the bathroom in fleece pajama bottoms and a simple white T-shirt, looking clean, fresh, and touchable.
He looks at the TV weirdly. I realize I have it on CNBC. “Are you thinking of diversifying your portfolio?”
I play it cool. “I like to keep tabs on the penny stocks.”
“Really? Which ones?”
My mouth drops open. “Uh…Jiggly Jams. The Funky Noodles Company.”
“Those sound like up-and-comers.”
Chance pauses at the foot of the bed, reaches up and scratches the back of his neck. He eyes the floor by the window and then the strip of laminate in front of the TV.
“I had them bring up an extra blanket.” I motion to the sad little excuse for comfort at the foot of the bed.
“Oh yeah? I did too.” He grabs the flimsy fabric and shakes it out.
“I also asked for a cot, but they don’t have one.”
He gives me a humored glance. “I did too. They said they were all in use.”
“Yeah.” I sink back into my pillows. “Great minds think alike.”
“Yeah,” he says, sounding unconvinced. “Mind if I borrow a couple pillows?”
“Oh. Of course.” I grab the pillows beside me and toss them one at a time. He spikes them to the floor, and then he lies down. I watch his hands as he arranges the blanket.
“Do you want to watch something else?” I ask.
“No, I’m good.” It’s followed by a groan as he adjusts his position.
“Okay, then. Good night.” I turn off the TV and flip off the light.
“Good night.”
Several minutes pass as I stare into the darkness, face up on a comfy bed that could fit three people. Four even, if you got creative. The mattress stretches to my left, miles and miles of it, untouched. Uncharted territory for my arms and legs if they decide to travel that way, which they won’t because I’m a calm sleeper. I’ve literally fallen asleep on my back and woken up on my back. I don’t think I moved the entire night.
“Are you comfortable?” I say into the shadows.
Chance sniffs. “More comfortable than I would be if I was lying on, say…a bed of nails.”
“Have you ever laid on a Shakti mat?”
“You mean those acupressure mats covered in little white spikes?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“The pain is supposed to release endorphins.”
“Is that why I feel like I just ran fifteen miles?”
“Huh?”
“Runners high. Endorphins.”
“You’re that uncomfortable?”
“Only when I remember I’m on the floor in a comfy hotel. If I pretend I’m in prison, it puts everything in perspective. For a prison, this is pretty good.”
I toss back the comforter, crawl to the foot of the bed, and peer down at Chance. Not only is his “blanket” as thin as a sheet, it only covers three-quarters of his body. His bare feet are open to the arctic blast coming from the AC.
“Why are you laughing at me,” Chance says.
I can just make out his wide grin. “This isn’t fair,” I say when my laughter dies down. “I have room up here.”
“Do coworkers share beds?”
“Morgan and I did last night.”
“Oh. In that case.” He springs up, gripping both pillows in one hand. “I won’t come anywhere near your personal space.”
A rogue thought enters my mind: But what if I want you near my personal space? No way am I saying it out loud. I shouldn’t even be thinking it.
Chance pulls down the covers on his side of the bed, climbs in, and lets out a satisfied sigh. “This is heaven,”
“You were only on the floor for five minutes.”
“Long enough for me to appreciate life’s blessings.”
I chuckle again.
We both fall silent and a palpable sense of…silliness washes through me from head to toe. I don’t push it away or try to explain it, but I keep it to myself and snuggle into its warmth.
“Danni?”
Oh no. “Hmm?”
“You’re the first person I’ve ever kissed.”
My eyes fly open. Chance the player is not only not a player, he’s never kissed a girl besides me? Wait. This is one of his jokes, the kind he makes with no humorous delivery whatsoever. “Ha ha.”
“Don’t laugh. I’m not kidding.”
I prop myself up on my elbow and squint at his silhouette. The sliver of light from the window outlines him perfectly. “You’re lying.”
He folds his hands behind his head. “Why is that so strange to you?”
“It’s not–it’s…”
“India isn’t like America. Not where I’m from. We do things differently.”
“Yeah, it’s…” I shake my head, still not believing, yet wanting to. I’m the first girl he kissed?
The silliness washes over me again. Making me think silly thoughts about doing silly things. The urge is too strong. I lean over and search for Chance’s lips in the dark. When we meet, he lifts his head to press closer, his hands remaining at his sides.
Chance’s second kiss is as good as his first, like he’s been practicing his entire life. Yet he saved himself. For me? That makes me want to kiss him longer, harder.
We settle in, his head sinking into the pillow. I don’t want to let go, but I know I have to, so I retreat, stealing a few indulgent pecks before I return to my side of the bed. He sighs heavily, doesn’t say a word.
I flop onto my back, pull the comforter up to my chin and enjoy the heavy weight of the darkness.
“Chance?” I say after several minutes have passed.
“Hmm?”
“You have a nice voice.”
He props himself onto his side. “Thanks.”
“Where did you learn to sing?”
“My mom wanted me to study music. Dadi wanted me to learn Carnatic music, so I learned it alongside Western classical music.”
I roll onto my side and draw circles on the comforter with my index finger. “Do you know any lullabies?”
He reaches over and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Maybe. Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
The mattress vibrates as he laughs. He takes in a slow breath and begins singing in words I don’t recognize, the melody weaving between happiness and sadness, his tone dipping expertly on the high notes and then soaring down to a deep, resonant rumble. He finishes by drawing near, finding my lips, and crescendoing into a kiss.
“That’s…that’s very good,” I sputter.
He inches closer, pulls me into an embrace, his lips falling against my neck. He lays a trail to my ear and then begins singing another soft, lilting melody. When he’s done, he scoots back to his side and stretches onto his back.
I don’t speak because I literally can’t. Chance is a voice thief. Instead I enjoy the lingering warmth from his kisses while my brain does pirouettes and backflips.
As I’m halfway between reality and dreams, it occurs to me: Maybe this isn’t silliness at all. Maybe it’s something more. But I fall asleep before figuring out what “more” might be.