Page 117 of Deep In Love
“You might hate me,” he says between laughs, “but you love my dick.”
He’s still laughing as he carries me into the bathroom and drops me in front of the mirror. He pokes my frown, then hands me my toothbrush and wordlessly guides me through getting ready for bed.
I’m not quite drunk, and still capable of taking care of myself, but I let him help with all my tasks.
He undresses me and slips on my strawberry pajamas, but not before taking a moment to rake his gaze along my skin, igniting my veins like a wildfire. Deft hands rub balm into my skin, and I sigh from the gentle touch and the knowledge that tomorrow will hurt a bit less because of this.
When he’s content I’m set for bed, he gets himself ready, fiddling with his CPAP I’ve mentally nicknamed Finch. I have Charles Darwin, and Mateo has Finch, an ode to Darwin’s iconic finches.
I don’t know how he’ll feel about the nickname, so I’ve kept it to myself, but I did look up Etsy shops that will embroider a CPAP bag in case he’s on board with the name.
My head is heavy from the alcohol, and I’m nearly asleep by the time Mateo rolls into bed and pulls me against his chest. As I fall into a blissful slumber, it strikes me that I never finished my expedition.
I’ll tell Mateo I love him tomorrow.
Chapter 33
Mateo
“I think I might cry,” Jett says as the ROV sinks beneath the choppy waves, descending into the depths one last time on this voyage.
One final shot to film, and the anticipation in the room is palpable.
Charlie spent the morning whispering sweet nothings to her crystals, hoping to manifest something spectacular for the final dive. Vivian mutters to her controls like it will guide her to greatness. Jett bounces on his toes and annoys the ever-loving shit out of Sofía as he chatters in her ear.
Charlie’s back is pressed against my chest as we stand behind Vivian, watching as the ROV sinks.
It was hard to look at her this morning and not laugh, the memory of her starfished on the bed, monologuing about schlongs and wieners and how nice she finds mine. It was glaringly obvious she was tipsy from the moment she said ding-a-ling, but my heart leaped from my chest witnessing her so open and free.
The soft wisps of her hair graze along my forearms as I wrap my arms over her shoulders, clutching her tightly. My fingers dance along her collarbone, and she shivers, goose bumps breaking out along her skin. She sinks deeper into the embrace, lifting a hand and placing it on my forearm.
We’re intertwined with each other, subtle intimacy in every touch.
It would be difficult to believe Charlie and I made it this far in only three weeks, but I’ve spent the last two years slowly falling for her, uncovering her every quirk and intricacy and finding space for each in my heart.
She woke me up this morning buzzing with pent-up energy. Before I could remove my mask, she was on top of me, asking me if I had plans tonight.
We share a room and we’re on a boat. Her plans are my plans.
When I told her that, her smile grew brighter and she nodded frantically, insisting we watch the stars together tonight. One last time before the light pollution ruins the view.
That’s what she said out loud, but her body language and her energy told a different tale—the opening lines of a story I hope to tell for the rest of my life.
“If you start crying, make sure you do it from your good angle,” Doug deadpans from across the room. He gets a few bewildered looks before adding, “Makes for good footage.”
He shrugs and returns to his computer, slipping his headphones over his ears to block out the noise.
The room is quiet as the ROV hits five hundred meters, but Charlie is on edge. Every few minutes, she glances over her shoulder, peruses my body, blushes, and then returns her focus to the footage.
She does it again when we hit eight hundred meters, and another time at a thousand.
“Is there something you’d like to say?” I ask, biting back a laugh.
“N-no.” Her voice cracks.
Liar.
She’s never been great at keeping a secret or hiding her emotions. She’s making an attempt, and I commend her valiant effort, but everything she feels is written all over her face. It’s easy to read, like a children’s book.
