Chapter 16
Charlie
Mateo silently labels sampling tubes on the bench space across from me, his head down with his earbuds in. As he moves a tube from one rack to another, I jerk to look around the centrifuge, hoping we’ll make eye contact.
When I woke this morning, he was gone and the sheets on his side of the bed were cold. There was no chocolate sitting on the desk, no morning smile upon exiting the bathroom, no companionable walk for coffee.
I found him sitting at a table with Jett, halfway through his meal, laughing, but when he spotted me, his demeanor shifted.
Too afraid to sit with him, I sat alone, nibbling on my toast, watching him like a lunatic until Shaun joined me.
When I was finally able to check for Mateo again, he was gone.
He’s evaded me all morning, as much as he can in the small lab space. If we’re walking at the same time, he slides as faraway as possible. Every glimpse of him worsens the deep ache in the center of my chest .
Am I so horrible that he’s tired of dealing with me? Did I cross a line, take something too far, and now he wants nothing to do with me?
He rises from his bench, and I steel my nerves, spinning to intercept him.
“Mateo, can we—” My words are slow and unsure, but he bulldozes past me and into the reagent room.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
I slam a pipette back onto the rack with brutal force.
“Hey, asshole, I was talking to you,” I yell, stomping into the small room, Mateo’s back facing me when I grip his arm.
“Agh!” He leaps a foot into the air and rips out an earbud. Oh, shit. I’m glad he didn’t hear me call him an asshole. Probably wouldn’t have helped with clearing the air. “What, Charlie?”
I don’t know if it’s his tone, harsh and direct, or the use of my name instead of bruja. My name sounds wrong on his tongue. I want to be bruja again.
“Oh…I—” The practiced apology fizzles off my tongue as he stares. His irises have always been a comforting green, a verdant shade that pulls me in, but right now they’re guarded. “Did you want some help?”
I refrain from smacking myself upside the head. Just apologize, you big doofus.
“I’m bleaching Nalgene bottles. I’m more than capable of handling it on my own.”
His lips purse, and I physically recoil, stumbling into the door. A single look and it’s like I’ve been shallowly sliced a hundred times.
I’m paralyzed by the glare, rooted in front of the door, desperate to understand what I did. A tear slips out, trailing down my cheek, and then I run out of the lab, escaping the way he looks at me like I’m dirt on his shoe, which is how I feel.
Tears falling freely, I slip into our room and lock myself in the bathroom, dropping to the floor. Mateo has never looked at me like that before, like I am the root of every issue in his life, and all would be right if I disappeared.
And I hate it, the way one glance cuts like a knife and how his opinion of me matters so deeply I’m crying on the bathroom floor. I hate this version of myself, the one so desperate to be valued that it’s become my driving point for existence.
I spend every spare hour working on side projects for Cheryl because I’m terrified to say no and disappoint her. I made Mateo nothing more than someone to beat, all to feel a sense of accomplishment. But now I see Mateo—he consumes my vision—and he refuses to look at me.
I’m deep within a space of uncomfortable self-reflection when the door to the cabin unlatches. Mateo rustles around, and after wiping my tears and taming my hair, I find a morsel of courage to step out of the bathroom.
Mateo’s facing away, midway through disrobing, and maybe it’s the sight of his back muscles—okay, it’s definitely the rippling muscles—but I stumble and face-plant on the floor with a loud, unattractive yelp.
He spins around, a wild look on his face, but I pop off the ground in an embarrassed frenzy. I grab my water bottle and a book Amy gave me and sprint to the door.
He takes a step forward. “Are you okay?”
They’re the first words he’s said to me today that hold no undercurrent of anger or disdain, and I don’t know how to handle that, so instead, I offer him a mute thumbs-up and walk backward to reach the hallway.
“I’m going to the top deck for a while, if you want to join,” I say before I spin on my heel and run away.
The blazing sun beats against my back as I devour my book. It’s captivating, the world-building so immersive that, for the last few hours, I’ve been able to forget everything that haunts me—Mateo, my thoughts, massive metal cyber trucks.
I understand what Amy means when she says books are her escape, a way for her to leave the real world behind, if only for a short time.
The human woman is discovering that her new planet is host to ten times the number of men than women, and she’s the mate of a chief, when laughter fills the deck, dragging me back to reality.
Lifting my head, I forget the book entirely at the sight of Mateo walking beside Jett, carrying a towel and…is that a fucking thigh tattoo?
The book slips from my hand and falls to the ground as he moves closer, displaying the artwork above his kneecap. Thin lines intersect thick, bold ones to create a stunning depiction of a monarch butterfly, wings stretched as he moves.
My heart pounds in my ears as I scramble to recover my novel while the guys sit on chairs across from me. I’m eye level with Mateo’s tattoo, and as he twists, more ink peeks out from beneath his shorts. I’m nearly salivating at the idea of discovering what other ink he hides.
Neptune, why is his thigh so hot?
Why am I so hot?
Words blur on the cream-colored pages, and the ocean breeze does nothing to cool my skin while I eavesdrop on Mateo and Jett’s conversation.
“They’re amazing,” Mateo says, and I peer over the pages to see what he’s referring to. “I’ve been addicted since I was a kid. Wanna try one?”
“Hell ya, man. Hit me with it!” Jett snags the lollipop from Mateo’s hand and pops it into his mouth. “These are mad delicious. ”
Wind whips my hair, and I duck my head backdown to hide the emotions evident on my face. I don’t need Mateo to like me. Who cares what he thinks about me?
The thought falls embarrassingly short. At least I can retreat into the fantasy world where the alien man dotes on his mate. The big blue guy is making his mate breakfast, when the sunlight disappears.
I peer up, hoping it’s Mateo, but my stomach falls as Shaun’s cheeks pull up in greeting. He’s been nothing but kind to me, but the one person I’m interested in is avoiding me like I’m the cause of the contamination in his experiment.
“I was hoping to find you here,” Shaun says, perched on the edge of the seat beside Mateo.
“Here I am.” My laugh is stiff and uncomfortable as Mateo’s scrutiny pierces my soul, a lollipop sticking out of his mouth. “Just reading.”
I hold up the book, and Shaun’s eyebrows crinkle. “Is that an alien on the cover?”
“Yep. A big blue one.” The words slip out of my mouth, and dildo-gate appears front and center in my mind. The way Mateo swung the vibrator in the air, his hand engulfing the toy.
My core clenches and the sun scorches my skin. I make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and it’s smoldering. He pulls the lollipop out of his mouth, twirling it around his tongue, and I almost fall off the side of my chair.
For fuck’s sake, someone take the candy away from the man.
“Can I read it after you’re done?” Jett asks.
“It’s a romance,” I say, quirking a brow.
He shrugs. “I don’t care. I like aliens.”
“Sure. As long as you’re okay with alien sex.”
Mateo chokes, and the lollipop launches from his mouth and onto the deck. He rises and leans down to retrieve the candy, and when he returns from throwing it away, he grabs the hem of his top and pulls it over his head.
My mouth dries as he drapes the shirt over the back of the deck chair, a grand expanse of golden skin illuminated from the sun.
He spins, muscles pulling and twisting, and I’m faced with his chest, broad and strong, with a soft smattering of hair trailing past his belly button and disappearing beneath his waistband.
Holy mother of pearl .
I offhandedly notice that Jett and Shaun have also lost their shirts, but a mermaid could surface off the side of the boat and I still wouldn’t be able to drag my gaze away from Mateo.
He crosses one leg over the other, and I’ve never considered myself turned on by the sight of a man’s thigh, but as he leans back and I get another peek of his tattoo, it might be the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
Mateo refuses to look in my direction, and bitter disappointment swirls with the unquenchable lust in my lower stomach. He chats with Jett, and I hang off his every word, desperate to decipher them like the code to uncover the root of his behavior lies within them.
I’ll have to corner him tonight and clear the air.
This energy isn’t good for us. I’ve already cried today, and one time is one too many.
Will it be hard to sleep beside him with a brain full of thigh tattoos and tanned skin?
Undoubtedly, but if Charles Darwin survived for years at sea, then I can survive three weeks with Mateo.
The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in cotton candy hues, and I am no farther in my book than I was two hours ago.
My skin is warm, both from the sun and the honeyed sound of Mateo’s voice as he waxes poetic about the importance of ironing linen shirts.
I’ve learned more about him through his conversation than I have in the years since I met him .
He loves Chupa Chups—the lollipop he gave Jett—and watches Survivor religiously. Each word is like uncovering a trait of a species newly discovered. I’m greedy for it all.
“Stay with me and watch the sunset?” Shaun asks, drawing my attention.