Chapter 5
Chapter five
Tom
Taking a cool shower after that long flight feels amazing.
Arcadia looks exactly like the glossy brochure Jay threw at me.
They’ve got a gym, a tennis court, and a meditation garden. An infinity pool stretches all the way to the cliff’s end; the perfect sport for taking a picture and sending it to Joan. She'll go green with envy.
Hopefully the restaurant keeps me fed and happy enough to forget this place is technically rehab. I can already see myself grilling on one of these sunbeds, doing absolutely nothing.
Nah. Who am I kidding? I’ll lounge when they give me the presidential suite at the graveyard. I'll probably work on my music here, or maybe sketch the coastline if I can find some art supplies on the island.
My therapist, however? Weird as fuck. I have no idea what that whole pager stunt was about, but it left me with a million questions. Erin said he’s their best, but I’m pretty sure I’ve been handed a rookie.
Still, he stirred something in me. As awkward as he was, he gave off a good vibe— that’s important when you’re trying to give therapy a shot, right?
And I have to admit, his appearance is inspiring. Like, in a muse kind of way.
Long raven-black hair, with an undercut on each side, and warm brown eyes that had mostly avoided mine.
But when he did look at me from under those ridiculously long lashes, I saw softness and a fierce determination.
Not to mention that the way the wind had played with his hair had been distracting.
He’s clearly motivated and disciplined, considering his athletic build.
He probably lives in the gym, so I don’t think pulling any stunts on him is the best idea.
I mean, the guy looks like he could beat the living shit out of me.
But at the same time, there’s this maddening buzz in my stomach that makes me want to push his buttons, just to see if he’s got what it takes to handle little old me.
Through the bathroom shutters, I catch a glimpse of the sunset. Orange, pink, and a splash of purple lighting up the sky. It’s gorgeous, nothing like I’ve ever seen before. I don’t want to miss this.
I quickly dry myself and get dressed. When I open the door, I see the last line of bright orange disappear into the ocean.
Fuck. I’ll need to set a timer on my phone for tomorrow.
Despite the growing darkness, the air’s still warm. I forgot that nights in the Caribbean don’t cool off, but stay this comfortable, hazy kind of warm. Must be nice living here.
Letting my eyes wander, I take in my surroundings. One of the perks of my studio terrace is the amazing oceanfront view, but if I look to the right, I can also see the meditation garden. And that’s where things get… interesting.
In the distance, I spot Doctor Rookie, face-down, ass-up on a yoga mat, leading a class of about fifteen people.
I scoff. Yoga? Not my thing. If I wanted to show off sex positions like that, it would be for a different crowd—and in a very different kind of resort.
Still, I can’t look away. The black tank top clings to his body in a way that highlights his broad shoulders and toned waist. Even from a distance, I can see sweat pearling on his skin, his muscles tensing with each pose.
The way he guides the class grabs my attention. I catch snippets of his calm, even tone. The guests are all focused on him, but their auditions for Swan Lake are awkward and clumsy compared to his effortless movements
His high ponytail sways in the wind, catching the fading light and shining like a raven’s wing. I can tell he’s confident in what he’s doing, focused and so different from the nervous wreck he seemed to be earlier today.
I watch him walk to the back of the class to assist a pretty blonde. Kneeling beside her, he places his hands on her perfectly round ass, guiding her hips into some weird position.
Shit. It feels like I’m spectating from the teal sofa at Joan’s club.
My body reacts immediately.
Wonderful. I’m trying to be clean and celibate for once in my life, and my cock refuses to cooperate. Should’ve known better.
So what now? I can grab my violin and distract myself, or… head back inside and handle this situation myself.
Since I did pack a bottle of lube—yes, just in case—option two is tempting me.
I take one last peek at Rookie and his yoga class, then head inside.
Decision made.