Chapter 20 Colton
COLTON
The smell of citrus and sunshine fills my nose as I come out of the fog of sleep. I shift, moving to stretch my stiff muscles, when I realize I’m not alone. A warm, lush body is wrapped around me.
Quinn and I are facing each other. My arms encircle her, and she’s buried her face in my chest with our legs twined together. I sigh and shift closer, brushing a soft kiss to her shoulder, savoring the feel of her body against mine.
Everything about it is perfect.
Except a few seconds later, my brain wakes up enough to process that it isn’t right.
She was worried about exactly this. She made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t want anything with me, even if she is attracted to me.
I know my best friend, and I know she’s struggling to readjust after what we did together.
I need to extricate myself from this situation before she wakes up and starts spiraling.
I inch my leg out from between hers, but she buries her face more deeply in my chest, pulling in a deep breath while I hold my own.
She moans, grinding her pussy against my leg, and I bite back my groan. She’s dreaming, letting out little whimpers and sighs that take me from hard to a fucking rock.
I try to pull back again, and her fingers wrap in my shirt.
“Colton.”
I freeze. The way she says my name, breathy and desperate, short-circuits my brain. Maybe she isn’t asleep. Maybe she woke up in my arms and wants this as badly as me. “Quinn, are you awake?”
She blinks her eyes open, recognition slowly filling her gaze.
A heartbeat later, she pushes herself away, scurrying to the other side of the bed like a crab. In her rush to get away, she forgets the bed is barely wide enough to fit our bodies, and she falls off, landing flat on her ass.
I sit up and look over the edge, losing the fight against the laugh bubbling in my throat.
“Okay there, Chaos?”
“Oh, yeah,” she stammers, rubbing her sore rear end as she stands. “Of course. Obviously. I’m totally fine. This is no big deal.”
My heart plummets when she doesn’t laugh. I’ve never seen her this flustered. Her nervous eyes shoot around the room, landing on everything except me. She’s uncomfortable. I made her uncomfortable.
Logically, I know I haven’t done anything wrong.
I was asleep, and she snuggled up to me as much as I did to her.
But she wouldn’t be this uncomfortable if she didn’t know the way I’d felt about her.
This was why I kept my feelings to myself for so long.
She’s too kind, too concerned with my discomfort. And there’s definite discomfort.
“I’m sorry.”
Her frantic eyes shoot over to me. “You’re sorry?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah. For the cuddling and the arms and, you know.”
Her eyes flick down to where I’ve positioned the blanket to hide my very obvious erection. She can’t see anything, but knowing she’s looking makes my dick strain harder against my shorts.
She turns on her heel and rushes off to the bathroom, slamming the door shut without a word.
Maybe I should have offered to sleep on the floor.
Clearly I’m a masochist, because I spend the day at the beach with Quinn. She gave the students some suggestions on where to explore, but beyond that, we don’t have to see them until the festival starts this evening. Our day is completely our own.
All my plans to spend a nice, platonic day proving to Quinn that she doesn’t need to be uncomfortable around me disappear in a burst of adrenaline when she whips that cover-up over her head.
Her breathtaking curves are wrapped in red nylon, and my wildly unhelpful brain supplies endless images of me burying my face between her round thighs, licking over the slick suit.
I spend hours trying to distract myself with baseball and my grandfather, determined not to look at her.
I’ve been fighting like hell to keep my eyes off her for weeks, ever since she rewired my brain chemistry in our bathroom, and I can’t break now. Not when she’s already feeling weird.
“You coming in the water?” she asks as she pushes off her blanket, brushing some sand from the back of her thighs and drawing my eyes back to her ass.
I yank my gaze back to her face, terrified she caught me checking her out, but she’s looking out over the water with a giant smile on her face. I pull my knees up, leaning my elbows on them to hide anything that might make this day even more awkward.
“No way. It’s the festival of San Giovanni. There are swords and knives out there.”
She drops her head back and laughs. “You’re going to let a children’s story keep you out of the Mediterranean?”
No, but I’m going to let my very obvious hard-on keep me out of the Mediterranean.
“Those stories come from somewhere, right?” I say instead. “I’m happy on this towel with my book.”
Hurt flashes across her face, covered quickly by a smile. “Okay. Have fun!”
My heart pinches, and I almost follow her. But I can’t stand up without making things worse. This morning was a fucking mess, and the last thing our friendship needs is another awkward moment.
What it does need is for her to think everything’s fine.
For her to brush off this morning as a natural, albeit uncomfortable, reaction to us being pushed up against each other in our sleep.
We have to stay in the same hotel as the students, and with no other rooms available, this is our only option.
I refuse to make the next two nights uncomfortable for her.
I watch her walk into the water, hands playing over the waves as the sun glints off her bright blond hair. She giggles as a local boy splashes her. The sound skips across the sand until it surrounds me, and I groan, wondering how I’m supposed to get through this weekend, much less off this beach.
I’ve been able to manage my reaction to her for fourteen years. But our hookup was like a hole punched in the hull of a boat, and now the water’s pouring in and I’m drowning.
I somehow gain enough control to walk to the water’s edge. Quinn’s wet, drops of water clinging to her eyelashes.
“You’re coming in?”
“I’m actually heading back to the hotel to shower.”
Her face drops. “Oh. Okay. I’ll head back in a bit.”
Her new friends pull her attention away from me with a splash as she sputters through her next laugh, sea water sliding down her beautiful features. I’m left to watch her, wishing things were different—that I was stronger—before dragging myself off the beach.
Back at the hotel, I end up in the shower again.
This proximity to Quinn is turning me into a pathetic schoolboy who needs to jerk off multiple times a day.
She’s everywhere, and I can’t resist popping the top of her shampoo to get a whiff of her scent, one hand clutching the bottle while the other wraps firmly around myself.
And when I feel the sweet relief of release, I pray it’s enough to get my head on straight before the festival tonight.
Hours later, as the students file into the tiny lobby, my head is decidedly not on straight.
“Listen up, everyone,” Quinn calls out, and they obediently—and shockingly—turn their attention her way. “We’re heading to the main square. There’ll be food for sale, so make sure you have some money on you.
“In the square, you can see the La ‘Ndrezzata dance. Joey, I could hear you groaning before I even finished the sentence.” She points at a student and everyone around him chuckles. “But I promise it’s cool and you should check it out.
“You’re all adults and of legal drinking age here. I won’t tell you not to partake, but the Nocillo is strong. Dr. Miller and I are here to help if you need us, but please don’t make us spend our pseudo-vacation taking care of drunk undergrads.”
The students all laugh.
“Definitely try it, if you drink alcohol, because it’s a special liquor you can only get for this festival. It’s made with walnuts collected a couple of days before the festival at night by a woman. Why a woman? I don’t know. Get out there and ask a local!”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling at Quinn. She flourishes in this setting, toeing the line between advisor and friend. Approachable in a way I’ve never been. I envy the way she easily moves between her roles. Everything in her demeanor, even her language, shifts as she settles into each position.
She waves a hand, and everyone falls in line as she leads them into town.
The streets are packed with tourists and locals alike pouring into the square to enjoy the festivities.
A large stage is set at the back of the piazza up against the plaster buildings, somehow more charming for their chipped paint.
Quinn hoists herself onto the side of a lamp post and calls out.
“Okay, everyone. Here we are! Areas to check out.” She gestures to different parts of the square.
“Stage where the folk dance is happening. Harbor, where you can watch the boat parade.” She points straight up to the sky.
“And finally, where you can see the fireworks. In case you couldn’t figure that one out for yourselves. ”
Some students chuckle and some roll their eyes, but they all hold a level of affection in their gazes.
I call out from the back of the group. “Get out there and have fun. But not so much fun that you ruin our night.”
The students scurry off, leaving me with Quinn. She rushes over to me, bouncing on her toes. “Boat parade?”
My stomach growls. “Let’s grab something to eat first. There’s plenty of time.”
She pouts. “If I don’t get a spot soon, I won’t be able to see anything.”
“Then I’ll put you on my shoulders. I’ll make sure you see it.”
She snorts. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Come with me. We’ll grab something later. We won’t watch the whole parade, just a few boats.”