Page 60 of Burn for You

I don’t even like Rafael—even if his company hasn’t irked me so much lately. I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about fucking him, and I definitely shouldn’t have thoroughly enjoyed the way his breath felt on my skin just now. I silently fill my mug with coffee and stir in a splash of milk, trying to focus on the swirls in the cup instead of letting my mind wander to places it shouldn’t be.

“You’re quiet this morning,” he says. “Having second thoughts about whether you’re up to the challenge?”

I know he means the fishing, but my mind immediately goes to a different kind of challenge.Snap out of it, Whitley. “I’m not a morning person.”

I feel his heat come up behind me and I think I hold my breath as his skates over my skin one more time. “Oh, I know.”

It’s beenover an hour since we’ve been on the road, and it’s been a silent hour. Awkward as all hell.

I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I can’t tell if he can tell what I’m thinking, what I can’t seem to get out of my mind. It’s like now that the thought has been planted in my head, I can’t get it out.

I spare a glance at him every once in a while, but he seems calm. Oblivious to the inner turmoil that's making me spiral inside my mind.

He just drives with one hand hanging out the window, and the other tapping along to the tune on the radio against the steering wheel.

I try to focus my mind, reel it back in. I close my eyes and focus on my senses. I focus on the sound of the radio, the song I don’t know floating from the speakers. I focus on the feel of my body sinking into the car seat.These are really comfy car seats for a truck. I focus on the feeling of my hair being tugged away from my face with the cool breeze that’s floating in through Rafael’s open window, carrying the smell of pine and musk with it. Rafael’s smell. The smell that invaded my nostrils first thing this morning when he got close to me.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. How did I end up back here?

“We’re here.” I open my eyes to big trees,massivetrees sitting against the bank of a river. The water is soblue, as if it’s got a filter over it. And nestled into the corner is a cabin. This place is like a postcard. How did I never know it existed?

“No one really knows this place exists,” Rafael says, making me wonder how much of that I said out loud.

“The cabin has been in my family for decades. We are far enough off the beaten path that not many people come across it.”

“It’s beautiful,” I say, and he hums in response. It’s like we’ve stepped out of Ruby Cove and crossed the border to somewhere completely new. This place grants me with new surprises every day.

“Come on, let’s put our stuff in the cabin and then we can get started.”

The sound of both of our car doors shutting is the only sound for miles apart from the distinct sound of running water coming from the river. The thick grass flattens beneath my feet as we make our way over to the cabin. Rafael punches in a code on the door handle and it beeps, the light turning green before he pushes down on it. He opens the door, and we step into the coziest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

The interior walls are logs, just as the outside is, with a gigantic fireplace taking up nearly an entire wall. Rafael flicks on the light switch as he trudges into the space. He looks way too big and gruff to be in this place. The morning sun filters in through the few windows, but most of it is coming from the big transom window over the door.

There’s a tiny kitchen, with a potbelly stove and a farmhouse sink, and a bed sits front and center in the space, looking way too comfy for the fact that I still wouldn’t be awake by now on a regular day. And that’s when it hits me. There’s one bed.

My eyes flick to where Rafael lays his bag on the floor against the wall. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says, as if reading my mind.

“What couch?”

“That one right there.” He points to what I would call closer to a chair. I’d probably break my back if I tried sleeping on that thing, and Rafael is at least twice my size.

“It’s fine. I’ve done it before.”

Who else has he brought here?

“Marisol doesn’t like to share.”

My heart slows its rhythm that I didn’t even know had picked up, and I don’t know why.

“Shall we get to it, or did you want to do some more standing around?”

I frown as I look over at him. “You gonna teach me how to fish?”

“You gonna listen?”

I frown even harder. “Lose the attitude, old man.” He scoffs in return before tramping out the door, leaving me to do some more standing around.

I take one step towards the door, ready to give him a piece of my mind, when his frame fills the doorway, a fishing rod in each hand. The one in his left is bright pink. “Here,” he says, shoving it towards me. “Thought it might help.”

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