Page 54 of Whispers on the Water

The moment the door clicked shut, an uncomfortable silence settles over the room. I attempt a smile, hoping Sam would initiate our much-needed dialogue.

Her face brightens, returning my smile. Now, I had every intention of keeping the conversation light and platonic. There are no expectations of physical contact. But Greg Junior always has had a mind of his own. ‘Look at her boobs,’ he seems to be saying.

‘No.’ I almost say aloud to Greg Junior. But even as I think it, my gaze travels down to her shirt’s thin, green fabric, accentuating her beautiful body. And Greg Junior wakes up like a bear coming out of hibernation. Roaring to full staff in an instant. I swallow hard but can’t pull my eyes off her.

“Get a good look?” Sam’s voice, edged with a hint of irritation, snaps me back to reality.

“Uh, no sorry.” Her jaw drops open, and I realize I’ve said the wrong thing. I wave both my hands in front of me, my eyes wide. “I mean, yes. You’re sexy… erm, um beautiful. It’s just an old habit. I don’t think you’re gonna jump in bed with me or anything.” I manage, trying to lighten the mood with a strained chuckle. A fleeting smirk touches her lips, but she still doesn’t speak.

The silence that follows is suffocating, my discomfort growing by the second under her scrutinizing gaze. I want to poke through the hesitation and the trust issues with magic words of wisdom, but my mouth doesn’t seem to be working anymore. Like I ate a spoonful of peanut butter and shoved ten saltines in my mouth at the same time. It’s like the most intense interrogation I’ve ever experienced, and she hasn’t asked any questions.

I spare a glance down again. Holy shit, did she get hotter? That damn smirk is on her face, and I know she’s somehow making fun of me in her head. However, I’m completely unsure why. ‘Cause you looked at her boobs, idiot.’ My pea-sized brain reminds me.

Sam leans back and props herself on her elbows with a smile. “You know, we only give Big Blue to guys that seem pervy.”

“But you gave it to me,” I say, feeling all the tension in the room pop like a water balloon.

“And?” she asks, her smile widening.

“So that’s it? One random hook up at my apartment and you knew I was pervy?”

“Yes.” There’s a glimmer in her eyes as she says it. Welp, she’s got me there, I suppose. When it comes to her, I don’t like keeping my hands off her delicious body. A pinch on the butt, a touch of her cheek, a kiss on the lips; it all turns me on in the same way. So maybe she’s got a point.

“I knew there was something weird with that thing,” I say, glad that we both seem to be able to breathe normally again. “Hey, did you surf in Nicaragua?”

She sits up and tilts her head. “You knew where I was?”

“Well yes. Tommy told us the first night.”

Her gaze shifts to the floor, where her foot is tracing a circle in the worn-out carpet. “Then why didn’t you come get me?”

She’s baiting me. I know the answer is more important than she’s trying to let on. “What would you have done if I had?”

There’s a small movement that’s probably her attempt at a shrug. But it’s like her body won’t commit to the lie. We both know she would have taken off again.

“Bullshit,” I blurt out. She looks at me. “You would have run.” She doesn’t disagree, and we fall into a more comfortable silence. I want so badly to reach out and touch her, to feel her body against me, even in a platonic hug. But I can’t. I’ve got to resist or risk pushing her away.

Deciding I need to clear the air somehow, I take a deep breath. “Sam, through this upcoming fuckery, you’re gonna need a lot of friends. I know you have Tilly but…” my voice trails off, and I run my hand through my hair. “Can you trust me to be your friend?”

An olive branch. It’s exactly what we both need. Some agreement that we’re in this together. A team. Still, my breathing grows shallow as I wait for her response.

Her head turns to look out the window on her right, and after the longest three seconds in the history of time, she nods.

Clapping my hands together, I can’t help the genuine smile on my face. “Alright, then.” There’s joy in my voice, but I don’t care. It’s a step in the right direction. She rises to her feet and walks toward me on the second bed with graceful steps. My head tilts up to meet her gaze. The look on her face is soft and understanding. I stand up, too, my chest tight as my heart races.

When she stops, I close both hands into fists, wishing I had worn something with pockets instead of these stupid board shorts, if only to keep my hands from touching her before she’s ready.

Instead of wrapping my arms around her like I want, I extend out my palm. “Friends?”

But her face sours at the sight, her lips turning downwards into a frown. Still, she takes the offered hand, shaking it once. Did she want more? I’ll strip down right fucking now if she gives me even a hint that’s where her heads at.

As she turned and sat back on the mattress, I noticed the slump of her shoulders, a clear sign of her disappointment or perhaps the weight of our situation. We’re both quiet. I have no idea what to say. Thankfully, the torturous silence is finally broken by a knock at the door. Of course, it’s Tilly on the other side. Her initial bright expression darkened into a scowl. “You’re still dressed?” she whispered, a hint of incredulity in her voice.

“Fuck off,” I snap and she recoils.

“Yeah, check that attitude mister. I brought burgers.” She holds up two brown paper bags and shakes them.

I shove her a little, and she chuckles. But I’m still irritated. Did she really expect us to be wrapped up in each other so quickly?

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