Page 55 of The Right Player
Belle laughed, reaching down for my hand. “Alright. Gemma and I decided that’s enough of the rom-com talk. Time for a dip.”
And with one last look of understanding from Zach, the conversation was muted, and the secret sealed — at least for now.BelleI’d never been more scared in my entire life.
I still remembered the first time I rode a rollercoaster. It was at Six Flags Over Georgia, I was eleven years old, and I’d literally pissed myself before demanding that my parents take me home. I also remembered when I almost wrecked my car in high school because a damn jumping spider had me swerving and braking and gassing until I finally was able to pull over and get the motherfucker out. I even vividly remembered when I’d had a near-death experience in college, thanks to not chewing my steak enough and getting it lodged in my throat before a patron of the restaurant gave me the Heimlich and shot that piece of meat out of my mouth like a rocket across the table.
All of these things were terrifying.
And yet, none of them matched up to what I felt in Makoa’s arms as we watched the fireworks over Chicago’s Navy Pier.
I was just standing there, minding my own business, a content smile on my face as those balls of fire exploded in the sky and shimmered in a downward stream toward the water.
And then it hit me.
All at once, like a flash flood through a canyon, I realized it. I felt comfortable in those beastly arms of his. I felt warm and safe with my back leaning against his chest. I had zero desire to fuck anyone else, zero desire to put distance between us, and absolutely zero desire to break things off with him in order to save myself.
For the first time since Nathan, I liked someone enough to stay. I liked someone enough to introduce them to my friends, to spend nights at their house and have them spend nights at mine.
And that realization shook me worse than a ghost ever could.
I was still up in my head about it all when Makoa and I said goodnight to Gemma and Zach in the elevator of my building. They hopped off on the seventeenth floor and Makoa held my hand until we reached the twentieth, leading the way down the hall to my condo before I used my key to let us both inside.
Makoa headed into the kitchen to pour us each a glass of wine, and he was going on and on about the day, about how much he loved Zach and Gemma, how awesome the fireworks show was, how he couldn’t wait for us to all go out on a boat again. It wasn’t until he turned to face me again, two glasses in hand, and saw me standing like a statue at my kitchen island that he stopped talking.
“Belle?” He frowned, setting the glasses down on the counter before he made his way toward me. “You alright?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, instantly taking me into his arms.
I shimmied out of them, crossing my arms over my chest, instead. I hated the look on Makoa’s face when I did, but being back in his grasp had my chest tight and my heart racing the same way it had on the boat.
“Did I… did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I said quickly. “And that’s the problem.”
He arched a brow.
“Can’t you see it?” I asked, tossing my hands up before I let them slap down to my thighs. “I like you.”
His other brow joined the first in his hairline.
“Like… we’re like… dating.”
He chuckled, his tense shoulders deflating a little as he opened his arms. “Come here.”
I shook my head.
“Belle,” he insisted. “Come here. Let me hold you.”
My brows tugged together, but with him standing there like that, with those words on his lips, I had no other choice. I slipped into his arms, and when he wrapped them around me, I melted, letting out the longest sigh of my life.
“I like you, too,” he whispered. “And, as weird as it may sound to you, I assure you — it’s not something to be upset about.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Tell me why.”
“You know why.”
He kissed my hair — God, he actually kissed my hair, like they do in the movies! — and then he pulled back so he could look me in the eyes. “We’re on this ride together. Okay? And I promise to abide by the campsite rule.”
It was my turn to quirk a brow. “The what?”
“The campsite rule. You know, when you go camping, you leave your campsite in the same or better condition than when you found it. No trash, no fires left burning.” He paused when he saw the vacant look in my eyes. “Have you never been camping?”
“I have, I just can’t believe you’re comparing dating to camping.”
