Chapter 14 #2
“I offered to help before and you turned me down.” I shrug a shoulder, keeping the hand that’s holding the lens perfectly still. “I figured you didn’t trust me with your expensive equipment.”
He scrunches his forehead like I’m ridiculous. “I’m just used to working alone, I guess. But of course I trust you. Especially with my equipment.” A smile breaks wide across his face as my knee swiftly connects with his ribs, throwing him off-balance so he has to palm the sand to stay on his feet.
“Oh, I can take one of you two together.” A woman with short gray hair and a thick wool scarf gestures at Ben’s camera as she approaches us. “You two make such a lovely couple.”
From his crouched position, Ben looks up at me, awaiting my response.
“Oh, that’s okay,” I reply. “We’re not a couple. We’re just colleagues.”
“Friendly colleagues,” Ben sarcastically mutters under his breath.
“Oh, what a shame.” The woman shakes her head like this is the most disappointing thing she’s heard in some time. “But even colleagues need a photo in this beautiful place.”
“She’s not wrong,” Ben says from below, and I’m tempted to knock him over again.
“Sure,” I say, because I’m certainly not one to be rude to strangers. “Why not?”
After quickly swapping out the lens, Ben passes his camera to the woman—who is clearly not as concerned about handling his expensive equipment as I am—with a few quick instructions, then turns back to me with an amused glint in his eye.
Reaching my side, he places an arm around my shoulder, and I press my open palm between his shoulder blades.
There’s absolutely no reason this kind of platonic touch should fill my stomach with swarming butterflies.
And yet…
We smile for the camera, and the woman snaps several takes before passing Ben’s camera back with another declaration of how lovely we are together and then traipsing off down the shoreline. Perhaps to make some other non-couple feel awkward.
“I guess we should, uh, get some work done,” I say, but it comes out like a question.
“Right,” Ben agrees. “Work.”
We separate so Ben can take more photos while I find a grassy area on a hill overlooking the lagoon to sit and write in my notebook.
Yet work is the last thing on my mind. Even though I shouldn’t have let it happen, our kiss in the ravine yesterday is all I can think about.
Despite last night’s argument on the beach and today’s subsequent agreement to be colleagues only, it feels like that kiss set something in motion, something unstoppable, something potentially devastating.
Regardless of the fourteen-year-old knowledge I have of the danger that lies ahead when it comes to Ben Carter, when I think of his soft mouth on mine, his rough fingers sinking into my bare skin, the press of his weight against me, I can’t shake that same heady, intoxicating feeling I had all those years ago, after the kiss that started it all that summer.
It was Fourth of July weekend, and my parents had gone out of town, foolishly trusting my brothers not to do anything stupid.
Naturally, they threw a party and invited everyone they knew.
Hours of too-loud music and poorly mixed drinks later, someone suggested a game of truth or dare.
Quiet and reserved even then, especially then, I didn’t want to play, but my friend Jenny from AP Chemistry dragged me into the circle before I could protest. All was well until someone selected me for a turn.
I chose dare, thinking that was the best option as all of the dares to that point had involved taking a shot or some other alcohol-related task, which sure seemed better than risking an embarrassing question I didn’t want to answer in front of all my classmates.
Unfortunately, the person who chose to call on me was Theo from the football team, and his dare involved making out with him in my bedroom.
Having never even kissed anyone before, I panicked, crimson welts breaking out over my chest and neck as I muttered something about not feeling well and fled the room, the whispers of She’s such a child and She’s nothing like her brothers and How are they even related? trailing behind me.
Afraid to go to my room, lest Theo seek me out, I made my way through the woods and down to the lake, knowing I had at least an hour reprieve before sunset and thankful my classmates were too busy getting drunk and hooking up to move the “lake party” to the actual lake.
It’s where Ben found me crying sometime later, having just arrived from his shift at The Boathouse.
He’d begged me to tell him what was wrong, but I refused.
It was too embarrassing. Then he’d said, Come on, Ems, let’s trade secrets.
You tell me why you’re out here crying, and I’ll tell you a secret, too.
So I finally gathered my courage and told him the whole mortifying story, admitting that I’d never kissed anyone and how I felt so behind everyone else in our grade. He listened quietly as I poured my heart out, and when I finished, he did what he was always so good at—he made me better.
Instead of telling me not to be upset or dismissing my feelings, he sat with me for a long time in silence, listening to the rustling leaves and watching the fireflies blink in the dusky light.
Eventually, he asked if I wanted to swim, and we stripped down to our swimsuits and leaped off the dock, the cool lake water a relief against the muggy summer air.
We floated and splashed and jumped from the dock more times than I could count, my tears transformed to laughter, Theo and the rest of my classmates long forgotten.
Dusk inevitably gave over to night, and Ben lit the row of citronella torches installed at the water’s edge so I wouldn’t be afraid.
When he came back into the lake with me, his demeanor had changed.
No longer playful, it seemed there was something on his mind he needed to say.
I remember the way his fingertips pressed into my wrist when he pulled me closer in the chest-high water, then how they moved under the surface to my hips when I went to him with no hesitation.
I remember the squelchy mud of the lakebed between my toes, my knee bumping against Ben’s as I drew closer, the way I held my breath because while I didn’t know what was happening exactly, I knew it felt different, and big.
I remember the moonlight reflected in his green eyes and his summer-tanned skin bathed in the orangey glow of the torches and his shy, barely-there voice when he asked, Do you want someone to kiss you, Ems?
Right then, in that very instant, in the lake I’d spent my entire childhood swimming in, my life irrevocably changed, forever split in two by a before and an after.
Though I’d never considered the possibility, I suddenly wanted Ben to kiss me more than I wanted my next breath.
So I nodded, heart pulsing so fast it was a vibration throughout my chest.
“But not Theo,” I quickly added for clarification, just in case I was reading the situation completely wrong.
“Yeah, fuck that guy,” Ben said with a grin, stepping closer so that he loomed above me, his fingers loosely trailing over the strings of my bikini tied at my hips. “Let me rephrase. Can I kiss you?”
Never before had I felt a physical reaction like the one my body had to that question. The electric current ignited across my skin, the background blurred in my periphery, an automatic yes formed on my lips.
Then Ben did just that, leaning down and pressing his lips to mine in a soft, sweet kiss that sent me soaring through the summer sky.
It didn’t last nearly long enough before he pulled back, those beautiful green eyes searching my face to gauge my reaction. “More?”
I remember the flickering worry of I just kissed my brothers’ best friend, but Ben was my best friend, too. And kissing him felt right and safe and good. “More,” I answered breathlessly.
When he kissed me the second time, he crowded me in the still water, wrapping one arm around my waist and cupping my jaw with the opposite hand.
He gently coaxed my mouth open with his own, and when his tongue brushed against mine, a brand-new type of heat swirled low in my belly.
He tasted like cinnamon, and for someone who had only begun kissing boys, I was instantly addicted.
When he pulled back the second time, I audibly whimpered, which made him smile really big. “Still good?”
“Still really good.” My pulse throbbed all throughout my body, including places where that had never happened before.
Private places. But as the shock of what we were doing tapered, self-consciousness was waiting in the wings to replace it.
I certainly didn’t want Ben to kiss me out of pity or friendly obligation.
Was that what was happening? “Am I, um, doing okay? Is it…good for you, too?”
“Yeah, Ems.” There was a strained quality to his voice I hadn’t heard before as his arm tightened around my lower back, reeling me in once more. “It’s good for me, too.”
Then it was happening again. Ben’s mouth on mine. Our bodies melding together as he guided me to wrap my arms around his neck, lifting me in the water until my legs floated up to encircle his waist, his hands then settling under my thighs for support.
We didn’t break apart again until the thunderous booms exploded overhead, the dark sky splintering with color as the town’s annual fireworks show kicked off.
We watched the whole thing from right there in the water, our bodies tangled together as Ben whispered in my ear his secret to add to our list—that he’d wanted to kiss me since kindergarten.
From that moment on we went from trading whispered secrets as best friends to spending secret nights together as so much more, Ben tossing pebbles at my window and us sneaking down to the lake to eventually sneaking into my bedroom and between my sheets.
Now, a cold burst of wind sends my notebook pages flipping, pulling me from my memories of the warm summer lake and dropping me back into present-day Iceland.
Like waking up from a really great dream you don’t want to end, I can’t control the sadness that overtakes me or the desperate desire to go back to a moment in time that no longer exists.
“You ready?” I hear from behind me, and I don’t need to turn to know it’s Ben. I would recognize that voice in every situation, every dream, every lifetime.
“Yeah,” I say. “All set.”
I shove my notebook into my backpack and start off in the direction of the car. Ben walks ahead of me, glancing back over his shoulder every so often with that same devastating grin of his, that same spark in his green eyes that still undoes me.
I’m not quite sure how, but if I want any chance of being able to focus on my job again, I need to get yesterday’s kiss out of my head. Wipe it from my memory like it never even happened.
What I don’t need: the apologetic smile of the clerk as we check into our guesthouse near the town of Hofn an hour and a half later when she informs us there’s a problem with our reservation.
“What kind of problem exactly?” I ask, knowing there’s no way I’ll survive an only-one-bed situation in my current state.
“Well,” the young woman drawls, “as I’m sure you already know, our most enticing amenity is each room’s private outdoor hot tub with incredible views of the glacier.”
I did not know this, but I can tell the woman is filled with pride over this feature.
“People love to relax in the tubs after a strenuous day of hiking,” she continues, and this I do understand. Completely. Even my ligaments ache.
“Unfortunately, the hot tub for one of the rooms you have booked is down for maintenance.” She grimaces like this is the most upsetting news she could possibly be delivering to us. “But if you’re traveling together, maybe you won’t mind sharing?”
Oh.
So not one bed, thank god.
Just one hot tub.
That can’t be nearly as tempting.
Right?