Chapter 6
CADEN
If there was one thing I’d be impressed with by the end of this trip, it would be this group’s tolerance for alcohol. While they’d still been wildly complaining about their throbbing head and toe-curling nausea five hours ago, they now sat by the pool with a glass of white wine in hand.
Alfie’s skin was almost as red as his hair at this point, despite the layers of sunscreen I’d seen him slap on this morning. It was fine, though, he assured me. It would turn into a tan in no time.
It seemed impossible, but Valentina’s red-white checkered bikini was already showing off her tan lines impressively well. Which were obviously the only thing I was admiring. The tan lines. Not her curves. Not her breasts. Definitely not her—
You want her. Beside me, Mike sat and slipped his feet into the pool. My thoughts were cut short, and I should probably thank him for that.
The little gratitude I could muster was the only reason I dignified his assessment with a lazy, What?
But my eyes didn’t shift away from the girl. Valentina sat with the rest of them on the other side of the pool, sharing a lounge chair with Iris, head on her lap. She was the only one without a glass—or entire bottle, in Alfie’s case.
You want her. Valentina, Mike clarified.
I almost snapped back that I’ve had her. That this unnatural pining wasn’t all that pathetic, because I knew she’d been attracted to me, too. At some point, at least.
But there must’ve been a reason why Valentina still hadn’t told her friends about us, even when bad timing and Iris’ break up were no longer viable excuses.
And if I’d told Mike about us now, it would take an hour until Annika knew, tops.
Then an hour and two minutes until the rest of them would, too.
So, I kept my mouth shut. Grunted in response and hoped he’d leave the subject alone. But I wouldn’t be sitting next to Mike Thatcher if he had.
Listen, she’s a great girl. I get it, Mike drawled on. It makes sense. You’re sharing a room—
I doubted he could imagine my dilemma at all. Knowing she was right above me, sleeping in an oversized shirt and nothing more. Knowing what she felt and tasted like, and knowing I could not have it again.
A bed, I corrected. We’re sharing a fucking bunkbed, Thatcher. It’s torture.
I could feel his gaze on me, but I only caught a glimpse of his eye roll when I finally took my full attention off Valentina. It’s been one night. How torturous could it have been?
More so than he could imagine, I’m sure. It had been worse than I’d imagined, and from the second she’d stumbled into our room, I’d expected it to be bad.
Last night, I think Valentina had fallen asleep before her head had even hit the pillow. Her even breaths had filled the otherwise silent room and managed to creep into every corner of my mind. I’d been counting them like I was seven years old and they were sheep in my fucking head.
Five minutes after she’d told me the upper bunk was hers, and after I’d given it up without a fight, she was sound asleep above me. Meanwhile, every time she’d turned from one side to the other—and she did that a lot—I held my breath. For God knows what reason. I certainly couldn’t tell you.
Needless to say, I had not slept well. Valentina’s presence made me restless, apparently.
Probably because for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what I’d done for her to despise me this much.
She’d been the one to leave that night—without so much as her phone number on the back of my hand or a piece of paper.
She hadn’t even given me the chance to play avoidant asshole, because she’d taken on that role herself.
And I wondered if she had more compelling reasons than me for not letting people close. Seeing her around her friends, though, I doubted that—close was an understatement for them.
Believe me, I finally huffed in response. It’s worse than you think.
The feet he’d previously been sloshing around the water stilled. Holy shit, he gasped. So loud, everyone’s head shot in our direction. Valentina’s brows furrowed, I could see the crease between them from here.
Great. Now she probably thought I was spilling our little secret to the chattiest guy on the HBU soccer team, and she’d probably hate me more. We’d move further away from potential friends, and closer toward reluctant enemies.
Beside me, Mike shook his head, waved the group off— unsuccessfully. They were still watching us suspiciously. Valentina’s features morphed into dread.
Did you? she mouthed.
No.
Sorry! Mike’s voice boomed across the backyard again. Please, get back to what you were doing, girls!
Alfie raised his bottle in our direction. No worries! he shouted back, then took a big sip.
More mindful of his surroundings, Mike repeated himself. Holy shit, he whisper-shouted. Holy shit, dude. You don’t want her. You like her.
Don’t be a fucking idiot, Mike. I didn’t like her. I barely knew her. I met the girl all of— Four months ago, actually. Then spent the time since wondering if I’d see her again. All of twenty hours ago. Eight of those she was sleeping.
His eyes narrowed as he assessed the sincerity of my words. His blue eyes flicked across my face until he gave up. Caden, he sighed. Valentina’s great. If you don’t like her, don’t fuck her up the way you do every other girl you get involved with.
I don’t—
Sarah, study group. She seemed like the most mentally balanced psych major I can think of, and she turned up to training with a carton of eggs and started throwing them. In broad daylight.
That’s not—
Lacy Halloway published an entire article on how damaging college hookup culture was, because you didn’t want to go out with her—I know you didn’t sleep with her. That makes it worse, dude.
I let my head fall back with a groan, hands placed on the pool deck behind me. How does that make it worse?
I don’t know what you do to these girls, he continued, completely ignoring my valid comment. But I don’t think Valentina is the casual type. Please don’t sell her this Caden-fantasy bullshit, only for you to rip it away once you’ve slept with her.
I was starting to get offended here. I didn’t sell… fantasies to anyone. I didn’t trick or deceive or play an act to get what I wanted. That’s not who I was at all, and that’s not who I’d been when I hooked up with Valentina, either.
And yet, she seemed plenty interested in casual—contrary to Mike’s belief.
I shook my head regardless. There’s no need for you to worry. She’s not going to sleep with me.
She’d cut my dick off before ever considering the possibility again.