Page 14 of Leave Before I Love You
“Complain about being stuck here with a beautiful woman? Are you kidding? I could be having to cuddle with Ronnie at night right now. Or Mav. Trust me, I am not complaining about being here with you.”
Avery smiles. “You think I’m beautiful?”
I roll my eyes. “You know you’re beautiful.”
“Pshh. Duh. Butyouthink I’m beautiful.”
“Yes,” I say simply. “You, Avery Banks, are beautiful.”
Avery tucks her face behind her legs, but I can tell by the small creases at the sides of her eyes that she’s enjoying this a lot. That’s no surprise, though. If there’s one thing she’s always loved, it’s bringing a man to his knees.
Her dad. Her brother. Her many boy toys.Me.
We’re all at her mercy.
In Miami, I’m able to keep her at a distance, but here…here, everything is different.
And though I don’t dare voice it, not feeling in control of my own emotions is my biggest, most pertinent complaint.
January 3rd
Avery
Henry scales another breadfruit tree in search of something—anything—ripe enough to eat. With zero luck catching another fish this morning and only one measly fish between us last night since we got here, we’re toeing the line betweenmildly uncomfortableandone of us is going to snap and eat the other.
Even on my strictest diets, I’ve never fasted for this long, and being that this is the modern era of hot girls, we do shit healthy. No disordered eating bullshit, right? Right.
As such, I’m a proponent of focusing on protein, and one of my fav morning protein options sounds so good, and so unattainable at the moment, I’m feeling violent. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’d freakingkillfor a turkey bacon, egg, and cheese English muffin from Starbs right now.
I shield my eyes from the sun, wipe some of the sweat from my chin with my now-crusty Ravella sweater I have draped over my shoulders to protect them from burning, and squint up at Henry as he moves from one side of the tree to the other, scouting like he’s been a jungle bushcrafter all his life.
His shirtless skin glistens under the sun, every ridge and groove of his muscles slick with sweat. His black cargo pants are tattered at the ankles from hours spent trudging through water and sand, andthe whole look is just unfair—like some rugged model who belongs on the cover ofSurvivalist Vogue.
In Miami, my lack of practical skills has never been an issue—nobody’s ever needed me to start a fire or fashion a fishing spear at a club opening—but out here? Turns out, being strictly abook the vacation, not survive itkind of girl is a slight disadvantage.
Still, my brain buffers as I take in the way his sweat-slicked skin practically glows under the golden light, every subtle movement of his body making his stupid muscles flex like they were designed to taunt me. Immediately, my mind spirals back to the fake cologne campaign I invented for him—Masculine by Versace—and before I can stop myself, I start picturing it in vivid detail.
Black-and-white shots. Slow-motion water droplets sliding down his abs. Him being all broody and intense while he stares into the camera while a deep, raspy voice-over murmurs,“For the man who conquers.”
I shake my head.Focus, Avery. You will not be conquered.
“Hey, Ave!” Henry shouts down to me, chucking one fruit to the ground and then another.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you…”
“Yeah?”
“That whole virgin thing you mentioned on the way down from the sky… What’s that all about?”
My whole body locks up so fast my limbs practically forget how to function. “E-excuse me?”
“Yeah. On the canopy down, you said,‘Oh my God! I can’t believe I’m going to die a virgin!’”
“No. No, I didn’t.”
“Yep,” he says, casually perching on a branch to peer down at me. “You did. Said it a couple times, actually. Kept rambling about it. I was slightly preoccupied with, you know, keeping us alive,but it just hit me again… So, what’s that about?”
