Page 59 of Burn for You

Marina

Have fun fishing tomorrow morning. I hope you catch something big ;)

Isla

As long as it’s not chlamydia.

Marina

Give the guy some credit, he’s not that dirty. I mean, not in that way, anyway.

Isla

May can catch us up on in all the other ways once she’sback.

Oh my god.

Me

The only thing I’ll be catching is fish. If that. Don’t get any ideas.

Marina responds back within seconds.

Marina

Too late.

By the way, the cottage will be ready for you to move back in by the time you’re back, so you better make the most of your last night with your roomie x

I roll my eyes and groan as I drag my legs out from under my comforter. Ever since I told Marina and Isla about that night with Rafael, they haven’t been able to shut up about it. They’re in my ear every time I see them, wondering if anything else has happened, and every time I tell them no. It’s as if that night never happened between us, and that’s exactly how it should be. It was a lapse in judgment, nothing more. Even though I think my lungs stopped working when he stood behind me last night. Like I said, my body forgets how to function in his proximity. My pulse was like I'd run a marathon when he held me so softly, wrapping my hand in the bandage that is still around my hand.

I pull air in through my teeth as my toes hit the cold floor. You’d think I was putting my feet on a block of ice by my reaction, but I swear I’m not being dramatic. I grab my fuzzy socks from my nightstand and slide them over my feet before stepping onto the floor again.

I frown as I look at my face in the mirror. Do I usually look this bad in the morning? I pull my hair back into a messy bun. Every bun is a messy bun—even if I don’t want it to be—because my short hair just pings out at every angle.

After brushing my teeth and splashing cold water over my face, I trudge out into the kitchen.

“Morning March, you look chipper.” Rafael stands at the countertop, putting sandwiches together.

I just frown in response. Even more so at the fact that he looks so fucking hot at five in the morning. Like, what the hell?

He’s wearing a dark blue t-shirt that stretches over his broad shoulders. Why was I ever thinking about pizza guy's shoulders when Rafael’s could literally bowl me to space?

Even better than the shoulders is the fact that he’s got that baseball cap sitting backwards on his head, making the ends of his hair come flicking out the sides. His stubble is a few days grown out, and he looks fucking delicious.

He moves around the kitchen swiftly. I’ll never get over how effortlessly he looks like he fits there. Like it’s his natural habitat.

“Hot chocolate?” He asks hesitantly. I wonder why until I realize how harshly my eyebrows are pulled together.

“Coffee,” I say, walking further into the space.

“It’s ready in the pot.”

I walk over and grab my whale mug from the drawer where it sits surrounded by plain white mugs. It’s like a diamond in the rough. My whaley.

Just as I go to close the drawer, Rafael comes up behind me. His warm breath whispers across my neck as he reaches around me, pulling the drawer back open, and grabbing a mug of his own. I nearly shudder when he walks over to the coffeepot, leaving my skin feeling unbearably cold.

I shake my head, trying to rid my mind of the reckless thoughts Isla and Marina pummeled me with first thing this morning.

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