Page 36 of Shy Girl
Groggy, I opened my eyes. No clocks. Phone turned off. No customers, beeping machines, or annoying drive thru requests. No texts from Mom. No one to serve, clean up after, or worry about judgment with my stutter.
Not a soul to talk to.
Not a single place to be.
With a little squeal, I turned, tucked my head into the pillow, and dropped back to sleep with a happy sigh.
The gentle clank of silverware roused me sometime later.
I blinked awake and sat up. A door separated my bedroom from the main living area in the bungalow. It was propped open less than an inch, allowing me to see a body moving out there. Hernandez, I’d guess. With the heel of my hand, I rubbed my eyes and fought off a yawn. By the time I stumbled out of my bedroom and into the main bungalow area, some of the cobwebs in my thoughts cleared.
Hernandez sat on the edge of the couch, his forearms propped on his thighs as he looked at a sheet of paper. A tray filled with waffles sat on the coffee table in front of him, along with a pile of fresh fruit, orchids in a vase, and several small crocks of butter, flavors of syrup, and what appeared to be bacon bits. He glanced up, saw me, and smiled in that lopsided way that stole my breath every time.
“Hey,” I croaked.
“Happy lunch.” He gestured to the tray with a tilt of his head. “Thought you might be getting hungry.”
I sank to the couch. “What t-time is it?”
“Noon.”
My jaw dropped. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Oh, I’m s-sorry. I didn’t—”
“Don’t worry about it. You deserve the sleep and nothing was happening anyway.”
“B-but . . . there’s a b-beautiful island to enjoy and explore. Are th-there things I sh-should be doing with you r-right now?”
The paper crinkled a bit as he passed it over to me. “Yoga in half an hour, if you like that kind of thing. Here’s a schedule.”
With a wary eye, I regarded a list of events underneath an elegant scrollwork font. What little I knew of Helene already was exactly represented in the calm elegance of this paper. Even her wedding event list was lovely. Promising for a half-sister. Maybe our DNA would give me some of those vibes one day.
My eyebrow lifted at Hernandez. “You do yoga?”
He laughed. “No, that’s more Vik’s thing if he's sober. But you can go if you want. Helene leads it. She’s a yoga instructor or something. The rehearsal is tonight, then another dinner. But tonight is more formal. It’s in an indoor atrium with a waterfall, or something.” He shrugged. “The day is yours to do whatever you want.”
The sleep felt amazing, that much I couldn’t deny. But I didn’t want to rest on the island escape or be away from Jayson. I’d never touched the ocean before, and frankly never thought I’d be able to. Pineville residents had a way of hunkering into a square radius of fifty miles and never really leaving. For some reason, I’d fallen into that. With this exotic escape around me, I couldn’t fathom why.
The list of things I wanted to do today populated in my head, starting withKiss the breath out of Hernandezand sliding right intoswim in the ocean naked.
Neither of which I’d voice out loud.
At least . . . not yet.
The groove in his forehead came out next. “You mentioned needing to do something while you’re here. Is that still on the table? Anything I can help with?”
The sincerity in his tone told me it wasn’t a poor attempt to figure out my secret, but an actual desire to help me out. Just thinking about Anthony Dunkin sent a cold feeling into my stomach, and I had no idea what to tell Hernandez. The way Ithoughtthings would happen was so different from the ways they actually laid out.
Short answer: I had a lot less courage than I’d expected.
Last night, I could barely bring myself to look in Anthtony’s direction when I heard he had appeared. I’d glanced, but notreallylooked. My gaze had been vague, like I desperately wanted to see him, but couldn’t bear to at the same time. Instead, I’d seen obscured bodies and shapes in the darkness, my stomach tied into knots that only sleep had undone.
In the light of day, it seemed so cowardly. Anthony wouldn’t have known if I justsawhim, but even a glimpse of the man felt intimate. Close. Like suddenly everything would become a little too real when the moment actually happened.
So, no. I had no idea when I'ddo that thingI'd told him about. The NDA lay in my backpack, curled up there like a promise I still had to fulfill. But where would I corner Anthony? How would I even present something like that without destroying his life or revealing it to someone?
