Her Perfect 10

by Brianna Cash

  Chapter 14

  Sadie

  Good God, it’s criminal how much these spas charge! Over four hundred dollars for a massage, facial, and pedicure? And that’s before you tip them! Who can afford this shit?

  Roxy, Bailey, Olivia, and Alena, that’s who.

  They all signed up for the special tomorrow, and I cringe as they sign away enough money for me to get a really good set of furniture for my entire living room, not just a single couch that will fall apart in three years. They can have their two point five hours of relaxation. I’ll keep my money and lounge by the water instead. The sound of the ocean, the hot sun on my skin, and the knowledge that I’m in a tropical paradise will relax me just as much.

  I keep my grumbling to myself and walk with Roxy back to our room to get ready for dinner. Sure, dinner is still an hour away, but after sweating in the sun all day, we need to refresh a bit. Or a lot.

  When we get to the room, there’s a suitcase in the corner that isn’t mine or Roxy’s.

  Holy shit, this is getting real.

  I’m going to have sex with fuckwad Owen from work…

  “You sure you’re still ok with this? I know how much you hate that guy right now.” Roxy starts throwing her clothes in her luggage, completely oblivious that Owen and I kind of put our recent past behind us. What she doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt her. I’m fine letting her think she’s the only one that’s going to be getting down and dirty in the Caribbean.

  I shrug, catching the tote she tosses my way, and start packing up her bathroom shit. “It’ll be fine. Who cares, right?”

  “Right. There’re plenty of other things to do instead of hanging out with some guy you hate.”

  So many other things.

  However, I can’t really say I hate him. Not anymore. If I’m being fair, I can understand how it looked like I fucked those guys at the club. He never should have judged me or said anything like he did, but I get it. And other than that one indiscretion, Owen has always been a nice guy.

  And he’s hot.

  And he can really fucking kiss.

  Yeah...’nuff said.

  “Get in the shower, Rox. You’re running out of time if you want to do anything with your hair.”

  “Fuck my hair, honey. If Carl’s focused on that, I’m doing something wrong.”

  “What kind of name is Carl anyway?” I mumble under my breath, because, really, that’s just a God-awful name in this day and age, when there are so many other good names out there. Who does that to their kid? That’s like naming someone Earnest, or Boris. It’s ridiculous!

  “You’re nervous about this, aren’t you?”

  I shriek when she suddenly appears at my side, joining me as I take in the view through the French door leading to the balcony. There’s a tub out there. A tub. On the balcony. A nice one, too. Hoity toity fucking rich people resort. I roll my eyes at the grandeur of this place once again.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Thank God my voice conveys more confidence than I’m feeling.

  Owen makes me nervous. Thinking about what we’ll be doing later makes me really nervous. Thinking about him having sex with me, sleeping with me, and waking up with me, and then going back to normal on Monday, makes me crazy nervous.

  Any other guy and I wouldn’t have a problem with it, but Owen’s been different from the beginning.

  Not that I let myself admit it then, or even up until this afternoon.

  I have a thing for suited men. The ones that make formal business attire look good, anyway. That’s why I wanted the job I landed and have clung to for the last six years. Lots of men in suits and ties go through that building on the daily. I’ve dated some of them. Fucked a couple, too. It was easy to pretend it never happened when we were at work.

  But I’ve always had a hard time pretending with Owen. It was hard holding his gaze for the right amount of time, instead of the much longer amount my eyes wanted to stay latched to his. It was difficult to keep a straight face when I saw him get off the elevator in the middle of the day and he looked directly at me. And it was damn near impossible not to watch him as he crossed the lobby, coming or going, no matter where his eyes were.

  That’s why I’ve always tried to keep myself as distant from him as I could.

  With my reassurance, Roxy silently strips down and turns on the shower, her features disappearing behind the frosted glass door, but her shape still easily distinguishable.

  Fucking see-through doors... Who thought that was a good idea?

  Doing my best to get out of my head, I root through the limited options for evening attire in my suitcase, praying for something to pop out at me that I didn’t bring. I’m a very light packer. I’m at the beach. I figured most of my time would be spent by the pool or in the sand. Every swimsuit I own is here, but actual clothes? Not much. And I won’t impress anyone with the clothes I did bring.

  I wasn’t expecting to run into someone from work.

  Or anyone I’d want to shag.

  I’m still hopelessly searching when Roxy struts out of the shower, a towel wrapped haphazardly around her torso. Her brow quirks up as she reaches the closet still stuffed to the gills with the clothes she brought that needed to be hung for the short time we’re here. “Need to borrow a dress?”

  I roll my eyes with a sigh. “It’s about time you asked.”

  She laughs. “It’s about time you learn to pack something fun and sexy, no matter where you’re going, or if you think you’ll need it. We’re at an adults-only, all-inclusive resort. If this isn’t the place to feel sexy in front of a stranger, I don’t know what is.”

  The chitchat finally stops as she steps aside, offering me her rainbow-colored wardrobe. She’s a lot taller than I am, so her maxi dresses are clearly out. She only has two shorter ones. A red one that’ll dip low enough to show off my belly button with our completely opposite frames, or a sleeveless, deep purple dress with a high neck that’s tailored to flatter most body types. I slide it off the hanger and lay it on my bed, turning to the shower a moment later.

  My thoughts glide effortlessly to 736 while the water from the rainfall showerhead washes over me. I imagine myself here with him, instead of this bridal party. I imagine us sharing this room as we get to know each other in person instead of through text or email. I wish I knew what he looked like. What color are his eyes? Does he have dark or light hair? Will his lips tilt up as he’s smiling down at me the first time we see each other? Or up at me, if he’s super short? Will he like me, after he’s met me and doesn’t have to imagine a 92-year-old overweight woman with few teeth and a vamped-up libido?

  Maybe we shouldn’t wait until the class is over. Maybe we should meet next weekend and end this mystery once and for all.

  But what if we don’t click in person? How will I get through the rest of the class if he’s suddenly not what I’m picturing in my head? Will that change how I write my assignments? Or how comfortable I am with him? Or how many of my truths I reveal in our electronic communications?

  “Thinking about Jamison?” Roxy snickers, her voice easily carrying over the frosted glass door and through the swirling steam. “It’s taking you an awfully long time in there!”

  Definitely not thinking about Jamison. I need to give him the boot.

  My heartrate speeds up and my lips curl into a smile.

  Odd…

  I’ll analyze that when I’m stateside.

  Roxy clears her throat, waiting for an answer I’m not going to give her. Instead, I turn off the shower and step out, grabbing the towel she hands me so I can dry off.

  I need to find a way to shut off my mind.

  And my nerves.

  I have no idea how to do either.

  Owen

  I’m sure dinner is great, but I don’t taste it. At one point, Rob asks if I’m starving, and I realize I’m eating faster than everyone else. After that, I slow down, trying to relax and look as though everything is fine. Sadie sits across the table
and a few seats down, and her gaze keeps settling on mine.

  I don’t think anyone else notices. The conversations around us never die down.

  She was in the room with her friend when I got there. They left, lugging multiple suitcases up to the room Carl is in, so I could shower and get ready.

  No going back now.

  Wine is served with dinner, and I match Sadie sip for sip. I don’t want to be drunk, but I’m definitely ok with something to help my growing anxiety. Maybe once we’re alone, things will be like they were at the poolside bar, and my nerves and common sense will be left behind.

  When we’re done eating, the group breaks up and we all go our separate ways. Sadie and I find ourselves on our floor outside the elevator, the noise of sloppy, wet kissing being drowned out as the doors close behind us. Roxy and Carl are wasting no time getting started with the rest of their evening.

  Stuffing my hands in the pockets of my slacks, I head down the hallway to our room, trying to figure out what I’d be doing at this massive resort that supposedly has something going on twenty-four hours a day, if I wasn’t rooming with Sadie.

  I am rooming with Sadie, though. Sadie, who I work with. Sadie, who gave me the best kiss of my entire life. Sadie, who looks a lot better in a bikini than I ever would’ve imagined. So good, the image is burned into my brain and I can’t stop imagining what she’d look like without it.

  We stand in front of the door to our room, looking awkwardly at each other until she pulls out the key and unlocks the door.

  I should’ve done that. Unlocked the door and held it open for her.

  She lets out a small laugh, walking to the side of the room and emptying her pockets. Money, the key to the room, her phone, Chapstick. It all comes out, laying haphazardly on the only dresser as she avoids my eyes.

  “Maybe we should set a timer for seven minutes and turn the lights off.”

  I chuckle. She’s feeling it, too. The awkwardness. The nerves. The uncertainty.

  “Recreate the moment?”

  “Yeah.” She sighs, lowering herself to sit on the bed closest to the door. “This is weird, right? It’s not just me?”

  She looks up at me with those green eyes that have haunted me since the day she kissed me in a closet, making me question my morals and what kind of guy I really am. I’m standing in front of her, looking down at her, wondering what’s going through her head. There’re so many thoughts running through mine, I could catch a thousand and still not have even one percent tied down.

  “It’s not just you.”

  She scoots to the side, offering me a seat next to her and I take it, enjoying the closeness, the uneasiness between us. She side-eyes me, opening her mouth and closing it again just as fast. Her eyes dart away, only to meet mine a second later as she wrings her hands together in her lap. “I don’t know if I can do this, Owen…”

  I smile, letting out the sigh I didn’t know I was holding, glad she went first. I probably wouldn’t have been brave enough to admit it. “I don’t know if I can, either.”

  “Thank God!”

  When she collapses onto the bed, her dress rides up her thighs, and my palms itch to feel them again. What would she do if I slid my hand around one, just to see what if felt like? If I situated myself between them and lowered my weight onto her small frame?

  I shouldn’t be sitting this close to her. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like that. Literally two seconds ago, I was trying to talk myself into having sex with Sadie, and now I need to talk myself out of it?

  She props herself up on her elbows. “Wanna change and go for a walk on the beach?”

  I pry my eyes off the golden skin of her thighs to give her my attention. “Yes.”

  I haven’t been to the beach yet. I saw it from the pool, but I haven’t had time to feel the sand between my toes or the waves crashing around my legs. Now that the pressure of sex is off, that sounds like a nice way to spend the evening.

  On the beach. With Sadie.

  That thought is so strange. Work and the beach, mixing together. Being anywhere other than work with Sadie, the girl I judged too harshly and thought very poorly of just yesterday, is strange.

  The fact that she’s suddenly as nervous as I am about us possibly having sex only proves her point. She’s not easy. I jumped to assumptions. I’m a…what did she call me? Ass-wipe? Yes, that’s it. I’m an ass-wipe.

  But what was she doing with those guys in that closet or bathroom at the club?

  It doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business and I don’t want to make our situation any more awkward by asking now.

  How long can I ignore the list of comparisons being made between her and my SD?

  Also not something that matters right now. SD isn’t available for me to ask. At least not through text, only email. Which could be because she’s on a tropical island for her best friend’s bachelorette party.

  Email isn’t instantaneous like texts are, though. I don’t know how long I could wait for her response.

  And I’m afraid of her answer.

  No matter how stacked the side of similarities is getting, SD’s identity is not something I want to figure out today.

  Maybe tomorrow.

  Or maybe not for a long while.

  Sadie hops off the bed and roots through a suitcase on the floor. After grabbing a couple things, she looks up to find me staring. She doesn’t call me out on it, just motions toward one of the frosted doors on the other side of the room. “I’ll change in the shower. Don’t look, though.”

  I grab the shorts I was in earlier and change without thinking, unable to tear my eyes away from her silhouette behind that mostly see-through door.

  Whoever put those in was a genius.

  The purple dress finds its way to a hanger in the otherwise empty closet. Sadie then repockets her things from the top of the dresser and leads me to the door, down the stairs, and through the winding path of the resort. Past the souvenir shop. Past the restaurants and clubs. Past the outdoor bars and pools. Past the other buildings that hold rooms similar to, or better than, ours. Past roughly a thousand huge iguanas and a million palm trees. All the way to the long stretch of sand where the waves are rolling and crashing in on themselves, the noise growing louder the closer we get.

  She kicks off her heeled sandals at the abandoned bar, pausing to smile when her toes sink into the sand. I kick off my own flip-flops and do the same, falling into step beside her as she walks straight out into the soft lap of waves cresting on the sand.

  “I love the beach,” she quietly admits when we stop in ankle-deep water. It’s warm and inviting. I want to come here tomorrow and swim straight out until my feet can’t touch the bottom. I want to tread water there, listening to the sounds of the seagulls and the waves and the distant, delighted screams of other tourists that like to be kept safe on the sand.

  “I do, too.”

  “The first time I saw the ocean, I was sixteen. I told my mom I was spending the weekend with Alena. Instead, I let my boyfriend drive me five hours to the shore, where we holed up in a dirty motel room with a communal bathroom and way too many drunk neighbors. Everything smelled like beer, piss, or vomit.”

  “Sounds great. What was the name of it? I’ll be sure to look it up when we get home.”

  “Ass.” She throws the insult over her shoulder, then ignores me to stare at the horizon. “The point of my story is, even though the circumstances were hardly worth remembering, that’s when I fell in love with the ocean. The beach, in general. It was the first time in my life when I thought, maybe everything wasn’t about me.”

  “Do you have any siblings?”

  “I’m a lonely only. My mom gave me everything she could, so the thought of something being about someone else never crossed my mind until that moment.”

  “We go to the beach every year. My parents rent a house and we drive to the Outer Banks every summer.”

  “Now that I know you’re Rob’s brother, I know that.”
She turns, starting down the beach, kicking up droplets of water with every step. “Alena went with you the last two years.”

  I nod, stuffing my hands in my pockets so I can resist the sudden urge to reach out and hold hers. “She did.”

  “She loves your family.”

  “We’re pretty great.” For the most part.

  “And humble.”

  I flash her a smile. I don’t know if she can see it in the darkness, but the moon is bright, reflecting off the water and casting a whisper of light all around us. “We love her, too.”

  “There.” She stops, squatting down in the sand. “We have three things in common. Loving Alena and the ocean, and being in her wedding.”

  She writes with her finger in the sand, Rob + Alena = Love. She continues drawing, creating a series of stars all around her simple equation. A wave rushes over her letters but they don’t disappear. Sadie wrote her message deep enough that it’s still clearly legible, even after warring with the pull of the ocean.

  “Why stars?”

  She looks up at me, her eyes narrowed as she tilts her head.

  I clear my throat to clarify. “Most girls would draw a heart around that, not stars.”

  “You think they’ll last?”

  Why is she changing the subject, and what, exactly, is she asking? “Rob and Alena?”

  “Yeah.” She brushes her hands together as she studies my face. “Think it’s love everlasting for them?”

  “I hope so. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  She looks up, staring at the twinkling lights painted across the sky. “Hearts don’t last that long. Eighty years, if you’re healthy and lucky. Stars, though…? They last millions to trillions of years.”

  “You drawing stars around their names means you hope it’ll be love everlasting?”

  “I guess. I’m not very optimistic about love in general, though.” She goes to stand, and I offer her my hand. She takes it, but lets it drop as soon as she’s upright. When she starts walking, I follow, having no idea where we’re going. For once, not really caring, either. “It fades. Just like everything else. Nothing lasts forever in this world. Not anymore. Even stars die, eventually.”