by Jen Wilde
“Yeah,” Alfie says, looking amused at my freak-out. “Sweet dreams.”
Before I close my bedroom door, I see him watching me. He’s still got that look in his eyes, paired with a devilish smirk that makes me want to invite him into my bed right now. I close the door and lock it to stop myself from going back out there. My phone buzzes a minute later, and I see a text from him.
ALFIE: well, that was an interesting development.
I cannot for the life of me wipe the stupid smile from my stupid face. Now that I’m away from his intoxicating scent and taste, I’m starting to think clearly. And I’m realizing just how very bad this could be.
EM: That’s one word to describe it.
ALFIE: here are some other words I would use …
amazing.
mind-blowing.
hot.
EM: Dangerous.
Mistake.
Trouble.
ALFIE: inevitable.
EM: Not inevitable.
ALFIE: not over.
I chew on my bottom lip, staring at those last two words. He’s making a promise, and I’m surprised at myself, but I desperately want him to keep it. I drop my phone onto my bed and go into my bathroom, smiling the whole way. I lean over the sink and stare wide-eyed at my reflection.
“Emmy,” I whisper-yell. “What the actual fuck? What did you just do? Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
I should be horrified. I should be worrying about what this all means for us, for our friendship, for the band. I should be beating myself up—after all, Jessie totally called this. But I’m not doing any of that. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel serious; it feels fun. We were just two kids blowing off steam.
It must be a side effect of being newly single. It’s a rebound thing. I just want to distract myself from the trash fire of my life lately, and there’s nothing wrong with that, right?
I take in a calming breath, trying to shake off the wild electricity bouncing off of me. My skin feels like an exposed wire—one touch and I’ll burst into flames.
I look at the ceiling through the mirror, knowing Alfie is up there somewhere. I wonder if he’s jacked up like I am, if he’s walking around in bewilderment, too. Knowing him, though, he’s probably already forgotten about it. Electric kisses are probably a regular occurrence for him, being the heartthrob that he is.
I hum to myself and pull one of my makeup-remover wipes from the pack, swinging my hips back and forth. I suddenly feel like dancing, like sneaking off this boat, finding a club on the island, and rocking out on the dance floor until the sun comes up.
But that is not what recovering trainwrecks do. I should make the smart decision and go to bed to get a good night’s sleep. Besides, even if paparazzi aren’t waiting for me back on land yet, there are probably plenty of tourists there who would love to snap me doing something headline-worthy. Sneaking out in the middle of the night to go clubbing solo would definitely make that list.
Instead, I decide to take a selfie to get one last pic of my purple lipstick before I take off all my makeup. A few seconds after I post it to Snapchat, I get a snap from Alfie. My heart flips in my chest, and I open it. It’s a pic of him lying on the daybed on the deck, his arm resting behind his head. It’s dark, but I can see he’s smiling. The caption reads:
So distracted. Your fault.
I decide to have some fun with him. I position myself in front of the mirror, hold my phone up at a flattering angle, wink, and snap the pic. When I look at it closer, I realize my cleavage is showing, and hesitate. Do I look slutty? Is it too much? Does taking selfies like this all the time make me look shallow or conceited?
I sit on the rim of the bathtub and stare at the picture, worrying myself into a shame spiral. I take a deep breath and remind myself of everything Chloe and I talked about.
Rule number three: No Doubts.
Then I go back to the photo and try to see it in a new light, without the noise of other people’s potential judgments getting in my way. It’s time to turn the volume up on my heart, and down on the crowd.
I like the photo. I think I look good. I refuse to slut-shame myself for it. I add a flirty caption to it: Time for bed.
And then I hit send before I second-guess myself again. I tap my heels on the tiles, nervously waiting to see if he replies. When he does, I open it faster than I’ve opened a snap in my life.
It’s him still on the daybed, his shirt lifted slightly, showing off his toned abs. The caption reads:
Two can play at that game.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.
I’m tempted to reply with an even sexier pic, to keep the flirty fun going, but I resist. I may not have had anything to drink tonight, but there’s still a chance I could wake up with regrets. I need to get some sleep and see what all this looks like in the light of day.
I turn my phone onto do-not-disturb mode, wipe off my makeup, slip into my pajamas, and hop into bed. I lay there in the darkness, letting the gentle rocking of the yacht soothe me into sleep. It doesn’t work. I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. Alfie was right. It was amazing. Mind-blowing. Hot. All good kisses are.
A kiss is more than just lips moving and tongues figuring each other out. Yeah, those parts are vital, obviously. But it’s so much more. A kiss—a good kiss—is a symphony. A bad kiss is like having your face eaten by a zombie.
What makes a good kiss, though? It depends. I’ve had symphonies before. And a couple of zombies, too. My first kiss falls into the latter category. It was with a guy at a party that Kassidy’s boyfriend threw when I was fifteen. I was so shy about people witnessing my epic awkwardness that I pulled him outside and around the side of the house. When he finally made his move, I laughed from nerves and turned away. Yep, he tried to kiss me and I literally laughed in his face.
When he found the courage to lean in for a second chance, I held back my giggles and spent the next three minutes feeling like our tongues were at war, dueling each other like swordsmen. I’m pretty sure he thought he was Zorro and his tongue was his sword, tracing a hectic Z on the back of my throat repeatedly. To make things worse, neither of us remembered to swallow, so our tongues stirred our saliva together until it dribbled down my chin. There’s nothing quite as gross as realizing you don’t know if the slobber pooling around your mouth is yours or not. I distinctly remember wanting to hurl.
Once we gave up—err, I mean stopped—we went back inside and he immediately abandoned me to brag to his friends. It occurred to me, as I watched him strut over to his buddies, that he actually thought it was a good kiss. He thought that weird alien battle between our mouths was actually good. Meanwhile, I went straight to the bathroom to rinse the dried spittle from my chin and wondered what the hell everyone was raving about. Kissing wasn’t fun! Kissing was slimy and puke inducing and embarrassing.
Of course, thanks to a few more test runs with a selection of volunteers of all genders, I would eventually realize that kissing isn’t so bad after all. And that brings me to the symphony. A good kiss is made up of many little movements, working together to create one beautiful experience. It’s lips, it’s tongues, it’s hands. It’s the heightened tension in the moments leading up to it. It’s the way you look at each other, the nervousness you feel, the excitement in your eyes. It’s the way your heart races when one of you moves closer. It’s the way your breath catches in your throat when it finally happens. It’s the way you gasp for air because you can’t get enough of each other, or the way your thighs tremble when it gets so heated you don’t think you can take much more.
Ugh, I should not have started thinking about Alfie’s kiss. Now I’ll never get to sleep.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I wake up with the sunrise, still consumed by that kiss. I mentally scan my emotions for any signs of regret. I should feel at least a slither of regret, right? I’d even settle for a mild sense of weirdness. Something to pull me away from letting that kiss happen again. But all I feel is butterflies. Argh. Come on,
heart, give me something I can use!
I’m too annoyed at myself to go back to sleep, so I get dressed and go up to the kitchen to make myself coffee. When I walk outside, the view takes my breath away. Turquoise ocean that blends into the clear sky. Sunshine reflecting off the water, making the whole world glitter. I ignore the voice in the back of my mind telling me I don’t deserve this and focus on rule number one: Self Care Comes First.
Other boats dot the water, and I can’t help but worry about which ones have cameras on me right now. I lay on the lounge, out of view, and stare up at the sky.
At some point I fall asleep, and when I wake up I hear my friends laughing and chatting, cooking up something that smells delicious. I follow the scent of breakfast and find Chloe, Kass, and Will in the kitchen making bacon and scrambled eggs. They have our album, Strange Welcome, playing, and they’re singing and dancing around the room.
“Good morning!” Chloe sings.
“Morning!” I beam.
“Want some breakfast?” Kass asks.
“Love some.” I help carry the plates to the outdoor dining table and go back inside to make more coffee because my first cup has gone cold.
I’m singing along to our song “All for You” when I feel someone standing behind me. A slow smile spreads across my face. “Good morning, Alfie,” I say, keeping my attention on the coffee machine.
“Something smells good,” he says, his voice croaky from sleep.
“Breakfast is outside.” Goosebumps tingle all over my skin just being in his presence. I’m in so much trouble.
“Nice,” he says. I can feel his eyes on me, and it reminds me of the way he looked at me last night. My smile widens.
“Want some coffee?” I ask.
“Sure.” He leans against the counter next to me, and I finally glance up at him.
Yep. There’s that look again. Big trouble.
“So,” he says. “How are you this morning?”
“Fine,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
He smiles. “Good.”
We stare at each other longer than two friends should. The coffee machine pings, and I drag my gaze away from him. I move my coffee mug to the side and start preparing his, when he puts a hand on mine. A shiver runs down my spine.
“I got it,” he says.
I take my coffee and sit on the kitchen island, watching him.
“Sleep well?” I tease before blowing on my coffee.
He gives me a sideways glance and smirks. “Nope. Did you?”
I shrug. “Not too bad.”
Alfie takes a step toward me, resting his hands on the island on either side of me. I look around, feeling like we’re breaking so many unspoken rules, but wanting to break so many more.
“What are you doing later?” he asks.
Before I can answer, Ryan emerges from the stairwell, yawning. I push Alfie away and slide off the island. My heart pounds hard in my chest.
“Hey,” Ry says through another yawn. He scratches his head, the hair flat on one side from sleeping, then follows the scent of bacon outside.
That was way too close, and yet incredibly exciting. I sit down at the table with my friends, feeling like some sort of secret agent leading a double life.
I’m chewing on a particularly yummy strip of bacon when Alfie joins us. He sits across from me, and I try to ignore his cheeky smirk.
“You look happy, Em,” Kass says, putting her arm around me.
I stare at my eggs. “How could anyone not be happy here?”
Will takes a sip of his orange juice. “Did you have fun last night?”
My heart skips a beat, but then I realize he’s talking about the party. “Tons! Best party ever.”
* * *
“Three, two, one!” Charlie shouts. She and Alyssa jump off the yacht, hand in hand. We watch from the lounge, cheering them on.
“My turn!” I say, standing up. I lift my T-shirt over my head and slip out of my denim shorts, standing in just my white bikini. “Who’s with me?”
I try not to look at Alfie, even though I really only intended that question for him. I need more time alone with him to figure out what’s happening between us. And, okay, yeah, maybe I want to kiss him again.
Kass stands up, finishing her cream soda. “I’ll go with you.” She shimmies out of her sundress.
“Anyone else?” I ask, this time letting myself glance at Alfie. He’s lying back on the cushions, his hat dipped forward so I can’t see his eyes.
“Alfie,” Kass says. He slides his hat back an inch or two.
“No,” he says.
Kass holds a hand out to him. “Come on. Let’s cure your fear of heights.”
“You don’t have to,” I say, trying to give him an out. I don’t want to pressure him into doing anything that makes him uncomfortable.
“It’s totally safe,” Kass says. I nudge her.
Alfie looks at Kassidy, then at me, and shakes his head. My heart sinks.
“Fine,” he says. “But if I die, I’m coming back to haunt you so bad.” He unbuttons his shirt and drops it on the table, wearing only board shorts and a swim binder that matches his pale skin tone.
“Yay!” I grin, trying to convey a hidden message to him with my eyes, one that’s flirty and fun and promises more making out. “It’ll be worth it.”
We climb onto the edge. Charlie and Alyssa are already on the beach, disappearing into the trees. I stand in the middle and link hands with Kass and Alfie. I can feel how nervous he is, his fingers trembling in my own.
Kass turns to shout something at our friends, and Alfie leans in, whispering in my ear, “It’s gonna be worth it, huh?”
I give him a sideways glance. “Maybe.”
He smiles, but his lips twitch, and I can see he’s trying hard to act calm. I squeeze his hand.
“I’ve got you,” I say. He nods.
“Ready?” Kass asks. “Three, two, one. Go!”
We jump, and Kassidy immediately lets go of my hand. Meanwhile, Alfie holds on for dear life. I scream as the wind blows through my hair and the ocean rolls below me. I pinch my nose and squeeze my eyes shut, and then whoosh! I’m in it deep. The force of the landing rips our hands apart. The warm, sun-kissed water envelops me, and I let it. I sink lower, opening my eyes to see the rays of sunshine piercing the ocean around me, the tiny bubbles floating up like specks of underwater snowflakes. My legs kick, and I push through to the surface, sucking in the fresh air. I hear Kassidy laughing.
“That was awesome!” she shouts.
Alfie pops up next to her, gasping. His face is hidden behind his hair, and he parts it open like a curtain so he can see.
I swim over to them, smiling. “I can’t believe we actually did it!”
“Jesus,” he pants. “That was fucking terrifying. Remind me to never do it again.”
Kass flicks him with water, starting an all-out splash war.
“Look out below!” Will calls from above. “Cannonball!”
He launches off the yacht, tucking his legs up to his chest. I swim out of the way, but he’s too quick. He lands hard, sending waves rippling around him and water splashing into our faces.
“Let’s get him,” Alfie says.
When Will rises to the surface, we greet him with frantic splashing. He covers his face with his arms and laughs.
“Argh! You assholes!” he says. He disappears under the water, and I squeal as he swims toward me. I freestyle away as fast as I can, but my own laughter is slowing me down. I feel him tickling my foot and scream.
“I can’t swim and laugh at the same time,” I say in between giggles.
Alfie takes my hand and pulls me toward him. Will turns his attention to Kassidy, and they erupt in another round of splash wars. I wade in the ocean next to Alfie, trying to get closer without attracting attention. He holds my hand under the water, and it’s like my heart has been restarted. Suddenly, I’m very aware of my body, feeling every ripple of the ocean moving against my
skin, every goose bump and hair standing up. I glance at Alfie, watching as he laughs with Will and Kassidy, his hair slicked back. All I want to do is kiss him again.
Alfie notices me watching him and winks. Then he leans in, pretending he’s looking at something behind us.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says. He locks eyes with me, like he’s waiting for my answer, and I nod.
We sneak away while Kass and Will aren’t looking, and swim to the nearby shore. As we walk onto the sand, I can’t help but notice how good he looks in his binder and shorts. I’ve never looked at Alfie this way before, noticing his abs and his arms and his smile. Before last night, he was just dorky, funny, laid-back Alfie, my friend and bandmate. But now, literally overnight, he’s become Alfie: Sex Beast and Super Babe. My perception of him changed so fast I’ve got whiplash, and my mind is racing to catch up to my body and how I feel when I’m around him now.
The moment we’re hidden in the trees, he takes my hand and swings me into him. Our mouths merge, tasting of salt water and sunscreen. We wrap around each other like the vines on the palm trees around us. A breeze flows by, rustling the banana leaves. I’m so hot from the sun, and the kiss that it feels like ice on my skin.
But I can’t turn off my thoughts. It’s like my mind and my body are arguing with each other.
Mind: Whoa now, what’s all this?
Body: Who cares? Just go with it.
Mind: Nope. Nope, nope, nope. I need to understand this.
Body: Just. Keep. Kissing!
Mind: But why is this happening? What changed?
Body: Dunno. All I know is that it feels amazing.
Mind: But WHY?
Body: Shut up. Kiss him.
Mind: But he’s our friend.
Body: This kiss, though.
Mind: But we work together.
Body: Those abs, though.
Mind: But this is risky.
Body: Those eyes, though.
Mind: But it’s ALFIE.
That does it. I pull away from him and walk deeper onto the island, trying to get myself together. Alfie hurries after me, watching me curiously.
“Everything … okay?” he asks.
I laugh nervously, scratching an imaginary itch on my shoulder. “What the shit are we doing, Alfie?”