Page 12 of Sunflowers and Surrender
Tuesday whirls in my direction, her hand over her heart as if she’s trying to catch her breath, and any thoughts of scolding her for dancing with Rico Suave disappear as I see her radiant smile. My breath becomes lodged in my throat.
When did my best friend’s little sister turn into a beauty queen?
As if it’s time for the bathing suit portion of this Miss Universe contest to begin, Tuesday stops beside her chaise lounge, lifts her flouncy sundress, and drops it on her towel. My mouth is like the Sahara as I take in her curves, covered in nothing but this tiny yellow string bikini.
This girl is the very definition of breathtaking. I think I’ve forgotten to inhale, almost catatonic at the sight of her. The sneak peeks of her in her mismatched bra and boy shorts the other night have nothing on this.
There’s a faint sheen of sweat decorating her glorious skin, and I’m overcome with the need to trail my tongue from one delicious droplet to the next.
“Alex?”
“Um, what?”
“I asked, what is this?” Tuesday says, sipping from the frozen concoction I ordered for her.
“Oh.” My voice cracks. “It’s a Bahama Mamma.”
“It’s good,” she coos, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she pulls the paper straw away from her mouth. Jesus. I’m going to need to dive into the pool before she sees how hard I am.What the hell is wrong with me?
Who am I kidding? I’ve been feeling a spark between us for a long time. It’s part of the reason I started dating Ainsley. I needed something to distract me from the one girl I can’t have.
I shouldn’t have brought Ainsley here. I knew Tuesday had feelings for me. And the hurt I saw in her eyes when I so callously blurted “Fuck no” the morning she questioned if we’d had sex has haunted me. But Ricky mentioned the cruise in front of Ainsley. And to be honest, I’m quickly getting to the point I don’t trust myself around this beauty queen anymore. She’s going to have to stay firmly locked in my dreams where she belongs.
Shit. What?
“What did you get?” Her voice seems louder all of a sudden, and I look up to find she’s bent over her chair, attempting to straighten her towel, her glorious, perky, full tits practically in my face. Beads of sweat collect on the nape of my neck, and I know it has nothing to do with the Miami heat.
I almost tell her I have blue balls,that’s what I got, when Ainsley takes this opportunity to plop herself down on the end of my lounge chair and thrusts a bottle of sunscreen into my face.
It’s official. I’m in hell.
Chapter 10
Alex
“Wow. I’ve never slept better than on this ship,” Tuesday shares stretching her arms overhead dramatically as we all sit enjoying a late breakfast. Our table accommodating eight sits beside a large window overlooking the ocean. The buffet is enormous, offering anything one could imagine to start their day. Eggs, sausages, various croissants, pastries, and fruit sit atop our bright-colored plates.
“I need a lot more coffee,” Ricky splutters. He and I stayed up late into the evening, checking out the nightlife onboard the ship. The girls all retired early after a full day of sun and alcohol.
“You feeling your age, old man?” I chuckle.
“Where’s Ainsley?” Julia asks.
“She was still sleeping when I left.” I take another sip of my coffee and have to admit I’m relieved for the non-Ainsley portions of this cruise. This relationship has more than outlived its course. I don’t know what I was thinking, bringing her along. At this point, I’m clearly using her to play interference. How ridiculous is that?Man up, Alex. Sunny T is never gonna happen. You don’t need to drag another girl into this.
The thought has barely left my mind before I notice the faces opposite me all staring over my shoulder, mouths ajar. My eyes follow where they have their gaze trained and observe none other than Ainsley walking down the corridor toward us, dressed for the runway. She’s wearing some sheer floral coverlet over a bejeweled turquoise one-piece, four-inch heels, a rattan purse, and oversized sunglasses. Her platinum blonde hair is tied tightly to her head in an uncomfortable bun. I instinctively look about the café for her paparazzi.Is this chick for real?
She slinks into the seat beside me, and I almost slide down so no one realizes we’re together. The rest of us are wearing T-shirts and cut-off shorts. “Ains, what’s with the getup? It’s kinda early for stilettos,” I whisper.
“I’m on vacation. I want to enjoy myself,” she quips with more than a little attitude. “I have a full day planned. I’m hitting the spa and getting the full package before I spend the afternoon sunbathing.”
So, this outfit is to impress the women at the spa?I mean, you’re just taking all of that off in there, right? I can’t wrap my head around her logic. But it seems neither can anyone else at this table by their expressions.
“Maybe I want to look good for my man?” She croons as she cups my cheeks, and I try not to choke on a cough.
Good grief. This is karma for bringing her here. I’m sure of it.
“Mom and I are going to tour the ship and catch up on some reading on the observation deck before dinner,” Dad says.
