10. Noah
NOAH
My body ached when I woke up the next morning, and I immediately regretted not fighting for the bed. Here I was, limping toward the kitchen and rubbing at my back like I was an eighty-year-old man. This ankle was the real problem. I’d rested it for days and still no improvement.
I poured a glass of water and searched for the itinerary, which was buried in the mess of papers on the kitchen table. We’d only been here one night, and the table looked as packed as the one in my apartment after chucking a week’s worth of forgotten mail onto it.
When we left the opening ceremony yesterday, a bunch of vendors shoved flyers and packets into our faces. Macey took them all with a smile, while I declined each. Now brochures for restaurants, activities, and photography services cluttered our space.
Before I could find the itinerary, there was a knock at the door.
Suddenly glad I woke up early and put on a shirt, I greeted the resort employee at the door. He held a large tray filled with dishes in the palm of his hand .
“Good morning, sir,” he said, looking far more pleasant than someone should in the morning. “I’m here to drop off breakfast and luggage. Your suitcase arrived a few minutes ago.”
That would make Macey’s morning.
When we checked in yesterday, after the disaster of learning we were sharing a suite, we filled in breakfast forms for our three mornings here.
Veggie omelet for me, French toast for Macey.
She had also ordered four different coffee options, and as the waiter set up the dining table, I was thankful she did. Extra photo content.
“Thank you.” When the waiter finished, I held the door open for him as he exited the suite.
I pounded on the bedroom door. “It’s time to wake up, Scribbles!” I heard a grunt of frustration on the other side, muffled by a pillow. “Your luggage is here.”
Immediately the sounds of frustration turned into excitement. Macey threw open the door and rushed out to hug the suitcase. Her hair was messy, frizzy on the top but as long as ever. Only a robe covered her body, and one side playfully fell off her shoulder.
Kneeling next to the suitcase, she whispered, “I knew you would come.”
“I never left,” I drawled.
“I was talking to my suitcase.”
Once I removed the covers of the dishes, the smell of honey and chocolate filled the air. “Macey.” I distracted myself by taking photos of the breakfast spread. “Why are you wearing a robe?”
The distraction didn’t work as she grabbed her phone and joined me. “I didn’t have any other clothes, so I slept naked.”
My phone fell out of my hands and into the vanilla latte. Fuck. I pulled it out and dried it on a dishtowel.
But my feverish brain only cared about one thing .
Macey Monroe.
Slept naked.
All night.
Only a wall separating her from me.
I shouldn’t be so invested in this new piece of information, but it was all I could do not to picture the scenario in my head. Soft skin, painted by the sun’s early morning rays. Ruffled sheets. Warm hands as they dragged over my naked chest, all the way down to?—
Nope. Where did that come from?
Obviously, I knew Macey was attractive. That I was attracted to her. Studious, deep eyes that challenged me. The way she always smelled like coconut. An ass for days.
Lust, attraction—that was all familiar stuff. But I had no frame of reference for the tender ache in the pit of my stomach.
“Noah!” Macey sighed, helping to clean up the mess. “Don’t ruin the other drinks.”
A few minutes later, we thumbed through the brochures on the table as we ate our breakfast. Macey had decided she was comfortable sitting across from me in nothing but the aforementioned robe, and she was currently pouring an obscene amount of syrup and strawberry preserves onto her French toast.
“Do you want any bread with that sugar?” I asked, halfway through my omelet.
She showed me the spears of her fork. “What’s the point of French toast if you don’t douse it in toppings?”
“To enjoy the toast itself,” I said dryly.
“Not everyone likes to eat egg whites and lean protein all the time, Noah.”
Macey was going on and on about the ranking of different French toast toppings, but it turned into white noise as I finally pulled out the itinerary from its place underneath a bundle of ads .
Friday, March 12
1:00 p.m. – 6:00 p.m.: Guest Arrival
6:00 p.m. – 8:00 p.m.: Welcome Ceremony
Saturday, March 13
9:00 a.m. – 10:00 a.m.: Breakfast via room service
10:00 a.m. – 11:30 a.m.: Couples massage
11:30 a.m. – 1:30 p.m.: Poolside lunch
1:30 p.m. – 3:00 p.m.: Free time
3:00 p.m. – 5:00 p.m.: Tour and executive interview opportunities
5:00 p.m. – 6:00 p.m.: Cocktails in the lounge
6:00 p.m. – 10:00 p.m.: Dinner and sunset cruise
Sunday, March 14
9:00 a.m. – 11:00 a.m.: Breakfast available in the lounge or via room service
11:00 a.m. – 12:00 p.m.: Tour of the gardens
12:00 p.m. – 2:00 p.m.: Cooking class
2:00 p.m. – 6:00 p.m.: Free time
6:00 p.m. – 8:00 p.m.: Dinner and send-off
Monday, March 15
9:00 a.m. – 10:00 a.m.: Breakfast via room service before guests depart
I slid the itinerary across the table to Macey, who lifted it to her face with her free hand. “Oh my God.” She shoved her plate to the side so she could bury her head in her arms on the table.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just realized we’re going to have to post content of us together in Aruba.” Macey sighed. “Everyone’s going to think we’re dating.”
I collected her emptied plate and dropped it on top of mine. “Everyone already thinks that.”
“No,” she corrected. “Everyone at the resort thinks we’re dating. But soon everyone in the world is going to think we’re dating once you post about it. ”
It wasn’t like I was going to Photoshop us kissing on the beach. “Don’t worry, I know how to manipulate photos well enough. I would never post something you’re not comfortable with.”
“I’m surprised you aren’t more worried. What if all your fangirls think you’re taken now?”
I hadn’t considered that. Probably because it didn’t matter. “I don’t have fangirls.”
“Whatever you say.” Macey stood and tucked the chairs under the table. “Wrap your ankle today.”
“What?”
“You’re limping, Noah. I know it must be hurting.”
“I don’t have anything to wrap it with.”
Macey’s eyes flickered to her suitcase then back to me. “I brought some tape. Good thing my luggage didn’t end up in whatever Bermuda Triangle all lost bags disappear to.”
She unzipped her suitcase, and I wondered if she had an injury I didn’t know about. “Here you go.”
I barely caught the small bundle of tape she threw at me.
“I thought you might need it.”
And that answered that question. She brought it for me. But why?
Macey excused herself to go get ready as I started the annoying process of wrapping my ankle. When she returned, seeming pleased with the result, I couldn’t stop the warm feeling that zipped through me.
The spa was tucked between swaying palm trees, its entrance framed by a cascading waterfall that trickled into a turquoise pond. The air smelled of coconut oil and something flowery, and the soft sound of wind chimes blended with the lull of waves in the distance.
We stepped inside, and a woman in a crisp linen uniform greeted us, then handed us cool towels. We hadn’t even started; what did we need towels for?
“Welcome to your couple’s massage experience,” the spa attendant said with a smile. “Macey and Noah, right?”
“That’s right,” said Macey, who was wiping down her hands and forearms with the towel.
“We have you booked in for massages with Leoni and Penny. Before you begin, would you like to choose your aromatherapy oil? We have vanilla orchid, sandalwood, or island coconut.” She held up three small glass bottles.
“Ooh.” Macey took the vanilla orchid bottle and gave it a sniff. “This one, please.”
The attendant turned to me. “And for you, sir?”
I glanced at Macey. “Coconut.”
“Great choices.” She gestured toward the open couches. “Please have a seat. Your masseuses will be with you shortly.”
It was hard not to feel calm in this environment. The drip, drip, drip of the fake fountain, the fruit-infused water cups, the comfortable couches. No wonder self-care was so trendy. I could take a nap right here.
Macey leaned sideways to whisper in my ear, “You should tell the masseuse about your ankle.”
“Why would I do that?”
She shrugged. “Maybe they can work out some of the kinks.”
I take everything back. Any sense of calm evaded me. Now that I was hyperaware of my environment, I felt like all eyes in the room were on us. There were other couples in the waiting area, and I swore they glanced at us every few seconds.
Were they onto us? Were we not passing as a couple ?
A uniformed woman holding a clipboard appeared at the end of the hall. “Macey and Noah.”
We stood to follow her, and in a moment of instinct, I grabbed Macey’s hand. She looked startled at me but didn’t let go. Hands clasped, we followed the woman down the hall to a dim room with two massage beds.
Outside the room, Macey and I came to a stop, made eye contact, looked at our hands, and let go like our hands were on fire. I felt like I was on fire.
We stared at each other, waiting for the other to step into the intimate room.
“You guys can come in,” the woman said as she dropped the clipboard on the side table.
“I’m Penny. My colleague Leoni and I will be your masseuses.
Please take some time to fill out this sheet with any prior injuries and areas of focus.
We’ll be back in a few minutes. You can leave your clothes on the table. ”
Oh.
Oh, no.
The masseuse closed the door behind us. Panic coated Macey’s eyes as she glanced down at her linen shorts and white shirt. “Can they not massage us in this?” she whispered.
“Have you ever had a massage?” I whispered back. “They need bare skin.”