Page 27 of One Week in Paradise
‘Mhm. I’m gonna get ready for bed.’
He grabs a few things from his suitcase and then disappears into the bathroom. When he comes out again, he’s only wearing boxer shorts, and he’s pulled his hair into a messy bun. It’s an incredibly attractive look. I try my best not to ogle him as he walks over to the bed, but I’m not sure I succeed.
I expect him to drop right next to me in bed, but he doesn’t. Instead, he climbs in at the very furthest end and makes himself cosy down there.
‘Do you know what we’re doing tomorrow?’ he asks as if I’m not seconds away from jumping his bones.
‘A waterfall hike,’ I say. I stretch out an arm and swipe it across the empty space between us. ‘Are you all right down there? You’re so… you’re so far away.’
‘Isn’t that what we agreed?’ he asks, brows knitting in apparent confusion. ‘You take one side; I take the other.’
I nod slowly. Thatiswhat we agreed, but I’d assumed, given everything that just happened by the bar, things would be different.
He pulls the blanket over himself and then glances over at me. ‘You ready to turn the lights off?’
What? Are we just going to lie here and pretend nothinghas happened between us? Pretend like I didn’t spend the latter half of the evening grinding on him, or like he didn’t just bring me to the brink of orgasm in front of everyone?
When I don’t answer, Cash turns away from me and hits the light switch on his side of the bed. The room is quickly plunged into darkness.
‘Goodnight, Bailey.’
I don’t respond. Instead, I lay there, staring up at the ceiling as Cash’s breathing quickly evens out, and he falls asleep. Only one word comes to mind.
Fuck.
Chapter Nine
When I wake up, Cash is gone. The realisation fills me with relief.
I don’t know what the hell happened between us last night, but I’m not happy.
I feel used.
I feel gross.
I feelincrediblyhorny.
I need some time to myself. I use my time alone in the suite to take some more videos and photos. Then I open Instagram and post one of my stories, remembering to tag the resort, and decide to finally post on the grid too. My last post is from four months ago now, and that familiar feeling of anxiety bubbles up inside me again as I scroll through my gallery, looking for the best photos to post.
Amber has suggested turning off comments completely. That way, I won’t have to worry about the trolls, but thatfeels like I’m admitting defeat. And anyway, nobody turns off comments unless they have something to hide. Which I do, but still. The trolls don’t need to know that.
I end up choosing one of the photos Cash took of me last night in my blue dress, along with a handful of photos and videos that showcase the beautiful resort and the delicious meal we had last night. I deliberate posting the photo Cash took of us on his phone outside the airport, but then I decide against it. I don’t know what’s happened between us, and I’m still angry over how he completely ignored me last night.
I hitpostand then disconnect my phone from the WiFi. I promise myself I won’t reconnect until this evening in an attempt to try and calm my anxiety.
By the time I’ve showered and gotten dressed, Cash still hasn’t returned. A small part of me wants to reconnect to the WiFi and message him, but the petty and irritated part of me wins, and I pretend like his sudden absence doesn’t bother me at all.
I head down to the restaurant closest to our villa – only a five-minute walk – and spot Bea, Meera, Sara and Lacey sitting around a table together. Meera waves me over with a bright smile on her face.
‘Morning, Bailey! We’ve been messaging you for the last twenty minutes.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, sliding into the seat furthest away from Lacey,who is still staring at me with big, apologetic eyes. ‘I disconnected from the WiFi for a bit.’
Meera nods sagely. ‘A digital detox. Fair.’
‘Where’re the guys?’ I ask.
‘At the gym,’ says Bea. ‘Isn’t Cash with them?’
