25. Harrison
25
HARRISON
I woke even more hungover than I was the morning before, though I barely drank, and it pisses me off. I wanted this final day with Daisy to be our best.
It pisses me off even more to find Oliver is already up and hanging out with her. She’s in the blue yoga pants this morning. They cover far more skin than her bikinis do, but I’m seized by the desire to go wrap a blanket around her anyway.
I’m seized by several different desires, actually, and it’s getting harder and harder to tell myself no to any of them.
He leans toward her, whispering something, and my irritation cranks up a notch. Last night he told me that if I didn’t make a move, he would. I’d assumed he was joking.
Maybe he wasn’t.
“You look a little rough,” Daisy says, walking in with a smile, a sweet smile that banishes every concern because I’ve never seen her look quite the same way at anyone else.
“Nothing some aspirin and coffee can’t take care of,” I reply.
She brushes past me and refills her water, smelling of roses and coconut. “I should have stayed up last night to prevent you from having so much fun. ”
As if that would have helped. I’d have stayed awake the whole fucking night just to make sure she went back to her own bed and not Oliver’s when it was done.
“It’s a sad day when you’re deemed the responsible member of the household,” I reply.
“Yes,” she agrees. “You and Oliver have set the bar unbelievably low.”
We get out in the water early, trying to make the most of our remaining hours. When we break for lunch, I’m more tired than I was the day before. I’d prefer to just take a nap on the deck afterward, but Daisy is raring to go back out, and I don’t want her out there with my brother alone for three hours. Do I trust him not to hit on her? Mostly. Do I trust him not to lay the groundwork for the future? I do not.
By the time the sun starts to lower, I’m fucking exhausted. I shouldn’t have stayed up so late last night, but I think what’s tired me most is this constant awareness of Daisy. Sure, I’m abundantly aware of her when she’s in my home, too, but it’s different here, when I’m seeing her through my own eyes and then through Oliver’s. It’s a double dose, and it’s more than I can bear at present.
Oliver grins at her. “Harrison’s about to turn responsible on us, isn’t he?”
“Can we pretend we don’t hear him?” she asks.
My smile is muted. “It’s probably after four, we have a six-hour drive ahead of us, and we haven’t even begun to pack.”
Jesus, the idea of a six-hour drive is unbearable right now. I’d give anything just to go to bed and postpone for a day.
We each take a final ride into shore and reluctantly carry on to the house. I force myself to move into my room and throw my shit in a bag, then tie the surfboards on the car, but I’ve got nothing left when it’s done. The trip back is definitely not going to be the rollicking good time the trip here was .
“Promise you’ll come to Paris this year,” Oliver says as we hug goodbye.
“We’ll see,” I reply. “You know how it goes.”
Oliver walks to the other side of the car and hugs Daisy for far longer than is necessary. “You must come as well,” he says. “Name the date, and I’ll buy you a ticket.”
My temper is a rope that has frayed until there’s nothing left of it. Why the fuck is he offering to buy her a ticket? And then he whispers something, something I can’t hear, and that last bit of rope snaps.
I climb into the car, fuming, and turn on the ignition before she’s even inside. I say nothing to her as I back out and steer toward the main road simply because I can’t. I know I’m overreacting. I know I’m exhausted from wanting what I can’t have. Nothing that comes out of my mouth right now will be reasonable.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” she finally asks, her worried gaze darting my way.
My jaw grinds. Let it go, Harrison. It doesn’t matter what he said to her.
“What did he whisper to you when we left?” I snap. I meant for it to at least sound civil, but it doesn’t.
Her brows pull together in surprise, and then she flashes a grin. “He thanked me for the hand job.”
I slam on the brakes and jerk the car to the side of the road. I’m ninety-nine percent sure it was a joke, but I don’t have the capacity to deal with even one percent doubt. I’m too tired. I want too many things.
“For God’s sake, Harrison!” she cries. “You know I was kidding. I’m not that bad.”
I know this. I know. I don’t understand why I’m suddenly so exhausted and so desperate for her at once. If there were a bed anywhere near us right now, I wouldn’t have the willpower to stop myself. “Then what did he say? ”
She rolls her eyes. “He basically said he wanted me to come to France so that you’d come to cockblock him, idiot.”
“Ah.” That does sound like something Oliver would do, and it would fucking work, too.
“Do you want me to drive? Because you seriously look like you could use a nap.”
I swallow as some of my anger leaves and shake my head. I’ve seen the way she drives. No matter how exhausted I am, we’re safer with me behind the wheel.
We reach the highway in silence. She fiddles with the music and convinces me to stop at a convenience store so we can get drinks. I’m too tired to even walk in with her. I’d thought I was hungover or strung out over Daisy before—now I’m wondering if it’s more than that.
She brings me a water I can’t seem to drink and then is quiet for the next hour. Joy is fizzing out of her with each mile that elapses.
“I’m sorry,” I say with a heavy exhale. “I didn’t mean to be so cranky when we left.”
“It makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong,” she says quietly, and there’s a pang in my chest.
“What could you possibly have done wrong?”
She bites her lip. “That’s kind of the problem, right? You never know what you’ve done. You only know that it’s something.”
“What do you mean?”
She stares out the window. “The last trip I took with my ex, Christian…everything seemed fine at first. Normal. And then it wasn’t fine anymore. He spent the whole trip back to DC denying it, only to dump me a day later. And when that happens, you’re stuck trying to figure out what’s wrong with you, and it’s like…it’s everything . Everything is wrong with you.” Her clasped hands tighten in her lap. “I realize that it’s different with you. I mean, we’re not dating or whatever. But it feels as if the bottom has fallen out, and I’m going to be the last one to learn it.”
Fuck. I’ve been so caught up in my own thoughts about her that it never once occurred to me she might worry too. I reach out and squeeze her hand. “It hasn’t, I promise.” I let the pad of my thumb sweep back and forth over her palm. “I’m just really tired. I keep wondering if I’m going to be able to stay awake when we’ve still got four hours to go, and I have to figure it out fast because we’re about to pass the last decent hotels until Carmel.”
She squeezes my hand back. “Harrison, let me drive. I promise I’ll be careful. You can sleep for the next four hours, and I’ll have you safe at home in bed by eleven.”
“I don’t know that I have it in me to be in the car for another four hours.” And as soon as the words are out, I know they’re true. I can barely stand to be in the car for another five minutes. I unlock my phone and slide it to her. “Book us two rooms at a decent hotel in Pismo Beach.”
She laughs. “It’s ridiculous to waste money on two rooms. I’ll just get us two double beds.”
Oh God. I might be tired, but I’m not so tired that I wouldn’t make a disastrous mistake if we were sharing a fucking room. I bet I’d get a second wind in two seconds if the opportunity presented itself. Especially after an entire weekend of built-up lust from watching Daisy in a bikini and having no opportunity to, uh, discharge it.
“Two rooms, Daisy,” I growl. “Please.”
She directs me to a very pretty hotel in Pismo Beach. I get us checked in, but I’m barely clinging to life as we reach our doors.
“I guess you’re going straight to sleep?” she asks.
I’d like to. But there’s also a selfish piece of me that doesn’t want to say goodnight to her yet, plus I’m worried she’ll freak out about the cost of room service and skip dinner if she’s left to her own devices .
“Now that we’re out of the car, I’m feeling better. Why don’t you drop your stuff off and come to my room? We can order dinner and watch a movie.”
I regret that offer the moment I make it. I’ve got one bed and Daisy will think nothing of climbing in beside me, stripping down to the little she’s got on under her sweatshirt, and making some comment about blowing me in exchange for dessert—one I won’t be certain is a joke.
Tonight, I lack the will to resist any offer she makes, joking or not.