Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Shenna
Hurley takes a long time in the shower, and I’m fully invested in this movie by the time he comes to bed.
Dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt, he flings the sheets down, crawls in, and faces the wall, away from me.
He still seems wound up very tightly, though I thought the shower would relax him a little bit.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Fine,” he says a little too quickly.
I turn back to the movie, a cute Hallmark story about a prominent city lawyer who goes to a small town to settle a late client’s estate and falls in love with the local innkeeper who once stood her up for prom. Or maybe she turned him down when he asked her to prom. I’m not sure, but I know it has something to do with bad blood related to prom. I’m not following very closely because I’ve been preoccupied with something.
I click the TV off. “So. That kiss.”
There. It’s out there. It’s better to air things out instead of leaving questions unanswered.
Hurley yawns. “What about it?”
“Was it…was that…acting?”
He doesn’t answer for a long moment.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you so hard.”
“But you did.”
“I was trying to make it look convincing,” he says.
Now, why does that statement sound absolutely scripted and hollow?
“Oh,” I say, feeling a little hurt.
He exhales loudly, like an old dog settling in for a long nap.
“It’s just that…”
“Hm?”
“Was it…was it a good kiss? Like, did I do it right?”
“What? Shenna, you can’t be serious.”
“I just want to know if…if I was convincing too.”
Hurley rolls onto his back and stretches his arms up over his head, his tricep muscles bunching far too attractively. My gaze travels up and down his beefy inner arms as he lies there, hands tucked under his head. Soft hairs peek out from his short sleeves, and I get a whiff of spicy deodorant. “I don’t think anyone suspected anything was amiss. Feel better now?”
I playfully whack his arm. “I’m curious because it was my first kiss, okay?”
He freezes l for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling. “That’s not good.”
Hurt, I reply, “Gee, I guess I shouldn’t ask questions I don’t want the answers to.”
Hurley sits up in bed. “I didn’t mean the kiss was not good. It’s not good that I hadn’t thought about that. Of course it was your first kiss.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “God, I’m an idiot.”
I’m confused. “Why are you an idiot?”
“Because I should have realized…and discussed it with you first.”
Laughing, I say, “We should have discussed a kiss? So romantic. Should we have signed a contract about it, too?”
He makes a very cute, frustrated grunt. “I’m trying to say that I should have been more sensitive about your…lack of experience. We could have done your first kiss privately so you wouldn’t be self-conscious about it.”
This conversation is headed in a truly weird, if sweet, direction. “Listen. I just want to know if I did a good job.”
He stares at me for a long, long time, his jaw ticking. “You did a good job. Seriously. You get an ‘A’ and a gold star.” For added sarcasm, he gives me a thumbs up. “Can I go to sleep now?”
“Fine,” I huff. “If you don’t want to tell me the truth, just go to sleep.”
I yank the fluffy white duvet away from him and cocoon myself in it.
Hurley sighs and gets up from the bed, taking the tray of snacks and popping it into the fridge in the kitchenette.
I sneak another look over my shoulder as he trudges back to bed, and I’m treated to a full view of his hand traveling up under the hem of his tee shirt, rubbing his tanned stomach.
When he makes a move to tug off his shirt, I quickly turn and face the wall.
He’s taunting me. I know it.
Once he’s settled into bed, I roll over and stare blatantly at the scar on his lower back. I don’t know if it’s the devil on my shoulder or bold curiosity, but I find myself reaching for it.
I snap out of it and draw my hand back when Hurley pipes up. “The kiss was good, Shenna. Really good.”
Hurley is fully dressed, towering over me when I wake up the next morning.
“We need to talk about boundaries.”
What a rude way to wake up.
“What? Huh?”
“We need to talk?—”
I cut him off. “I heard you. First coffee, then talk.”
”Way ahead of you. Ella sent up a full breakfast already.” The steaming mug Hurley carefully hands me smells heavenly, which improves my mood. I sit up and hold the mug to my nose.
He crosses his arms and watches me sip my coffee, looking bemused. “I didn’t realize you weren’t a morning person. Sorry to be so abrupt.”
The coffee is perfect, and I’m suddenly hit by the aroma of bacon and fresh bread. “Breakfast, you say?”
Though unnecessary, I accept the offer of Hurley’s hand as I get to my feet and pad to the kitchenette.
“I feel more refreshed after sleeping in that bed than I’ve felt in a while,” I say as I perch on the stool and survey the spread: an artfully arranged fruit tray, warm artisan bread, honey butter, eggs two ways, and of course, bacon. “How about you?”
“I’ve slept better,” Hurley says, easing into the stool beside me.
“Sorry that happened.”
“I was awake for a while, thinking about things.”
I bite into a pineapple ring, and the flavor explodes in my mouth.
“You’re not eating,” I say, pushing an empty plate at him, and I notice he fills it with mostly fruit and bread. No eggs, no meat, no butter. Maybe he has a nervous stomach. I watch him push the fruit around with his fork, looking troubled.
“What’s on your mind, Hurley?”
“Today starts the rest of our normal lives, and there are things we need to navigate carefully, especially if we’re going to be together all the time.”
The honey butter is incredible, and I wish he would try it. “What are you getting at? Just say it.”
“I mean, we need to set boundaries around sex. I’m worried that that kiss yesterday sent the wrong message.”
I raise an eyebrow and nibble on the bacon. “What kind of message were you trying to send?” I ask teasingly.
He clears his throat and looks away. “I got caught up in the moment. I was relieved that we were married and you were under my protection, and I guess you could say I was feeling happy. And you smiled at me, and you smelled so good, I gave in to the urge that I shouldn’t have.”
“Kissing is normal at a wedding, as far as I know.”
“But after our conversation last night, it seemed like you were, um, very curious about, you know, physical stuff.”
“Gee, Hurley. I’m not interested in jumping your bones. Calm down.”
“Good.”
That “good” came out of his mouth too quickly, and it stings a little. “You really know how to make a girl feel like some kind of nympho just by asking questions.”
“Shit, I’m an idiot,” Hurley says, touching a closed fist to his forehead like he’s trying to activate a clearer connection between his brain and mouth. What I’m trying to say is I enjoyed the kiss. I like sharing a bed with you. I like how you toss and turn in your sleep and then calm down when I touch you. I like waking up and feeling your legs brushing against my legs. I like …just…being with you.”
My goodness. What is the problem? “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“We have to be careful with the physical connection. We have to set a boundary.”
I smile. “But we’re married.”
There goes that ticking jaw.
We engage in a brief stare-down, and I can’t tell who wins.
He sighs, and it feels like the whole room expands with the force of it. “You don’t understand what men are like.”
I add some bacon to his plate because he simply has to try it. “There’s no need to talk down to me, Hurley. I know about sex. Just because I’ve never had it doesn’t mean I don’t understand how it works.”
He removes the bacon from his plate, and I eye him curiously. Not a bacon guy. Okay, then.
“You’re the kind of girl who marries for love. And I convinced you to marry for convenience. For protection. We need to set some ground rules.”
I think about that for a second. And then I choose sarcasm. “Hi, Hurley. I’m Shenna. Have we met? I don’t know if you know this about me, but I was raised in a high-control cult, and I don’t take kindly to men setting rules and controlling me.”
“I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt. So, from now on, we’ll look like a normal married couple. But at night, we’ll have to sleep in different beds.”
I nod slowly, digesting this information. “So I’ll keep my apartment, and you’ll keep your little mountain lair, wherever that might be.”
“No.”
“No? Then what? I can’t move my bed to your house. It came with my apartment.”
“I’ll get a second bed.”
“That’s a little extreme,” I say.
“Said the lady who had a fit when I told her she had to share a tent with me,” he says, his face finally breaking into a smile.
I playfully nudge his leg with my bare foot. “That was different.”
“Listen. My point is that this marriage is only supposed to provide you with protection. I don’t want to get feelings involved. I don’t want to wreck your experience of marriage before you’ve had the chance to marry for love. And on top of that, I don’t want to take advantage of someone who still has a lot of cult shit to work through.”
I nod and chew on a slice of bread. “Cult shit.” He makes a lot of very sound arguments. In a real relationship, we would never work. My childhood tormenter still bugs the shit out of me. And vice versa. “Makes sense. We both have too much baggage.”
Hurley exhales and finally eats his fruit and bread with gusto. “I’m glad we worked that out.”
Me too.
I think.