Chapter 21 Quinn #2
“We’ve been here for a bit,” I say. “I didn’t know you all were coming to the thermal park.”
“Yeah! It was on the list you gave us of places to visit around Ischia, remember?”
Colton sends me a flat stare, continuing his new practice of communicating solely with his eyes.
“I’m digging this new mute you,” I whisper.
He pokes me in the side, and I let out a little yelp.
“We’ll leave this pool to you,” Colton says, tilting his head toward the stairs. “It’s time for us to move on to the next one.”
“Have fun, guys. We’ll probably see you around,” I say as I swim over to the exit. This day’s going to be a lot less interesting with our students swarming the place.
Colton stands with our clothes, which he holds in a strategically placed bundle.
“I’m going to the cold pool,” he grumbles, and the loud laugh that explodes out of me draws curious stares from the students.
“See you in the hot tub when you’re done,” I call after him.
The hot water soothes me, washing away the lingering effects of last night. Colton slides in across from me a few minutes later, looking less grumpy but still not thrilled. “I can’t believe you told them about this place.”
I hold my hands up. “Inez and I made that list a month ago. I completely forgot!”
He grabs my foot under the water, kneading the muscles even as he continues shaking his head. “How’s the mission to get Dr. Keck on board?”
I lean my head back on the tile and let the scene above draw me in—the blue sky, dotted by green palms and white birds. A moment of peace before Colt starts giving me a hard time.
“I haven’t made much progress in the past couple weeks.”
He pinches my toe, and I yelp and glare at him. “Because you’ve been avoiding me or because you’ve been avoiding your dad?”
“Why not both?” I spread my arms wide, a manic smile on my face.
He shakes his head, a scowl on his handsome face. “You’re not as cute as you think you are.”
I lean forward, lifting an eyebrow. “Liar.”
He chuckles and pushes his thumb more firmly into the arch of my foot. “Fair. But you can’t keep hiding.”
“I know,” I say softly, then sigh. “I have a plan. Or a plan to make a plan. My friend—the one who comes up from Orlando every year for that internship program—is in Italy with her fiancé and their kids. We’re getting together next week to catch up and brainstorm.
We’ll figure something out. We have to.”
“Would it be the end of the world if the initiative passes in August?” he asks, no judgment in his tone.
It’s one of the things I love best about him.
If something I say doesn’t make sense to him, he doesn’t placate me and move on to the next topic.
He asks questions—thoughtful, sometimes difficult questions—because he wants to get me.
“When I started at Billings, they sold me on a small, collaborative campus. Passionate, respectful people from all departments working together to help the students. I don’t think they were lying, per se. More like they were hopeful that the culture was shifting when it wasn’t.”
He nods, his hands switching to my other foot. “But can you still do the work without working with the professors?”
I nod, trying to work out the best way to describe it to him. “Remember the situation your freshman year?”
He levels me with a flat stare. “Yeah, I remember when I almost flunked out of school. Thanks, Chaos.”
I wince, but push on. “You were lucky that I grew up in this world and could coach you through that. I knew what resources were available. But what would have happened to you if someone else had taken that seat before me? Someone who didn’t know higher ed like I do?”
“I’d have been fucked. Trust me, I think about that all the time.”
“There are students—thousands of students—who have no idea I’m on campus. Students who need my help and guidance. This initiative will make it harder for me to reach them for no reason other than stupid workplace drama. It’s unfair. And unacceptable.”
He runs his tongue over his teeth, nodding thoughtfully. “Fair enough.”
“And then there’s the Inez of it all. I can’t let her be scared off. She loves Billings.”
His brow furrows. “Didn’t you say two days ago that you wanted whatever was best for her?”
“Yeah, to her face! But I’m not really okay with her leaving. Do you not understand how friendships work at all?”
“I guess not.” Colton’s lips quirk as his hands keep moving, working their magic.
The tension slips away with each stroke of his fingers.
“But someone did tell me that what we want out of life can change with new experiences, and the best thing we can do is follow that instinct wherever it leads. Don’t you want that for Inez? ”
I scowl at him and tug my foot out of his grasp. “Don’t use my own words against me. It makes you look like an asshole.”
He laughs then, loud and invigorating, and I’m relieved the sound doesn’t hammer in my head anymore.
My favorite smile of his—the big, broad one he saves only for me—stretches across his face.
I lean forward, keeping distance between us for any prying eyes, and run my thumb quickly over his dimple.
His eyes soften, and it takes all my self-control not to kiss him.
We hold each other’s gaze, the warmth in his eyes making it hard to breathe, like I sunk under the water’s surface for too long.
I push out of the hot tub. “Let’s move on. I’m getting overheated.”
We spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon swimming in the different pools, chatting about everything and nothing, before heading back to town for one of those beautiful Italian lunches with as many hours as there are courses.
There’s a shift when we head back to the hotel, like we both know we’re walking toward a moment that will change everything. I’m not hungover anymore. There’s nothing stopping us from exploring this tension between us.
After all of our rushing and our inability to keep our hands to ourselves, I expect us to fall into bed as soon as we walk through the door. Instead, we stand in the middle of the room, looking around like the answer on how to move forward will be written across the wall in bold letters.
Colton clears his throat. “So, um, we should probably shower after the pools.”
I nod. “Yeah. Of course. That makes sense.”
The shower’s even smaller than the one in our apartment, barely big enough for one person to squeeze into, and I’m grateful for that fact right now.
“You first?” we both say and then awkwardly laugh. This is painful.
“Please, go ahead, Colt.” I need a minute to put myself together.
He pops back out a few minutes later with a towel slung low on his hips while he rubs another one over his wet hair.
“Sorry, I should have brought my clothes.” He winces, and I know it isn’t a ploy to stand in front of me practically naked.
I let my eyes run down the panes of his chest before grabbing my own clothes and sprinting into the bathroom.
Why is this so awkward?
We both want this and know the other wants it, too. We’re comfortable with where the relationship’s going and know what it means. It should be a no-brainer.
But now, faced with the possibility—and without the liquid courage of last night—I’m freaking out.
After my own quick shower, I comb my hair out as I gaze at the tiny bathroom mirror with unseeing eyes. He’s on the other side of the door, skin probably still damp. And I’m here in nothing but the thin hotel towel that barely fits around my curves.
My clothes are right there. I can put them on, walk out of this room dressed and put together, like I wasn’t in here imagining all the filthy things I want to do to that man.
They could be a line of defense, like my dress had been the other night.
A layer of protection as I fumble through this awkward moment.
Or, I can walk out in this towel like he did—okay, slightly less innocently—and get what I’ve spent the past month—okay, the past year—craving.
Before I can second guess myself, I fling the door open, my clothes forgotten on the bathroom counter.