Chapter 29
Brodie
As I sat in the chair, getting lost in the mesmerizing sounds and movement of the ocean, I decided right then and there that someday I would move to the beach.
I inhaled deeply. The air was crisp and clean.
Nothing like the smells at home. Those smells were great, too, with the scent of pine and redwood trees around us, but this… this was pure heaven.
I glanced over at Gabrielle. It looked as if the same ideas inhabited her mind, but then I remembered, she’d recently moved away from the beach to come up north.
Perhaps she wasn’t the beach type. Though I’d never believe that by the way she studied the water, the way her wide, brown eyes danced with excitement as they followed the flight of a seagull swooping down to pick up a yummy treasure from the sand.
The sun still glowed high in the sky and warmed my body. I tugged my shirt up over my head and off to enjoy the rays. After a short while, I became thirsty and stood to go find something to drink.
Gabrielle glanced up at the sound of the chair scraping and stared up at me with surprise. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to find something to drink.”
“There’s probably a vending machine in the hallway somewhere with sodas and water. If you find one, could you get me a water?”
“Sure.” I turned to head out, but realized it wasn’t soda or water that I wanted.
I’d been cooped up in a car for the past eight hours, and driving for about five of them.
I knew what I wanted, and I wasn’t going to find it in any vending machine.
I pulled my shirt back on and turned to her.
“Hey, how about we go check out the bar downstairs. I could really go for a beer right about now.”
“Um … sure. I guess. A beer sounds good.”
“You can get whatever you want, doesn’t have to be a beer.”
“Of course.” She stood and walked inside, stopping in front of the mirror to run her fingers through the long strands of her hair.
“Just a sec.” She went to her suitcase, dug her hand down the side and pulled out a black elastic band.
She proceeded to pull her hair up and started to wrap the band around it.
I had thought her hair looked great the way it was and wished she’d left it down.
I often thought about how it would feel tangled in my fingers.
“Don’t,” I said, a bit shocked that I had spoken out loud.
She stopped wrapping the elastic around her hair and looked at me. “What?”
“You should leave it down.”
“But it’s all frizzy from the salt and humidity. It’s only going to get worse if I leave it down.”
I shrugged and mumbled half to myself, “I like it down,” as I opened the door.
She followed me to the door and I let her exit the room first. I closed the door, noticing that her hair, to my unreserved delight, hung loosely down her back, the tips swishing gently at the very top of her lovely derriere with each step.
She was right about the frizz though, as curls stuck out in all directions.
Keeping my hands off her during this gig would be near impossible. I probably should have just resigned myself to getting drunk and staying that way—especially at night—making myself incapable of any type of performance in the art of seduction.
The ride down in the elevator proved to be painfully quiet.
I wasn’t sure why the uncomfortable feeling seemed to overwhelm both of us all of a sudden.
We each stood with our backs to the mirrored wall, facing the elevator door.
As soon as it opened, I drew in a breath of relief.
We’d been living under the same roof for several weeks now.
Surely this unexpected sleeping arrangement couldn’t affect us that much, could it?