Page 96 of People We Meet on Vacation

He laughs, just as breathlessly, and kisses the side of my neck. “And you love me.”

My stomach flutters. “I love you,” I murmur, this time on purpose.

“I love you so much, Poppy,” he says, and somehow, just the sound of his voice tips me over the edge and I’m coming undone. We are, together.

And I don’t know what we’ve done, what chain reaction we might have just triggered, how this will all pan out, but right then I can’t think about anything else but the crush of love looping between us.

27

This Summer

AFTERWARD, WE LIEon the plastic-strewn balcony, curled together and soaked to the bone, though already the storm is breaking up, the heat pushing in to burn the moisture off our skin.

“A long time ago you told me that outdoor sex wasn’t all it was cracked up to be,” I say, and Alex gives a hoarse laugh, his hand smoothing my hair.

“I hadn’t had outdoor sex with you,” he says.

“That was amazing,” I say. “I mean, for me. It’s never been like that for me before.”

He props himself up and looks down at me. “It’s never been like that for me either.”

I turn my face into his skin and kiss his rib cage. “Just making sure.”

After a few seconds, he says, “I want to do it again.”

“Me too,” I say. “I think we should.”

“Just making sure,” he parrots. I draw lazy patterns over his chest, and the arm he has slung low across my back squeezes tight. “We really can’t stay here tonight.”

I sigh. “I know. I just don’t want to move. Ever again.”

He flips my hair behind my shoulder, then kisses the skin left exposed there.

“Do you think that would’ve happened if Nikolai’s AC hadn’t gone out?” I ask.

Now Alex leans to kiss me right over the heart, sending chills down my stomach and up my legs that his fingers trace over. “That would’ve happened if Nikolai had never been born. It just might not have happened on this balcony.”

I sit up and swing one knee over his waist, settling onto his lap. “I’m glad it did.”

His hands run up my thighs, and heat gathers anew between my legs.

That’s when we hear the pounding on the door.

“ANYONE HOME?” a man shouts. “IT’S NIKOLAI.I’M GONNA LET MYSELF—”

“Hold on a sec!” I yell, and scramble off Alex, snatching the wet T-shirt up.

“Shit,” Alex says, searching for his swim trunks in the jumble of plastic sheeting.

I find the wad of black fabric and shove it toward him, then pull the hem of my shirt down over my thighs just as the door’s starting to unlock. “Heyyyyy, Nikolai!” I call way too loudly, heading him off before he can see either Literally Naked Alex or the shredded plastic.

Nikolai is short and balding, dressed in an entirely maroon outfit—seventies-style golf shirt, pleated pants, loafers. He sticks one meaty hand out. “You must be Poppy.”

“Yes, hi.” I shake his hand and hold intense eye contact, hoping to give Alex a chance to discreetly get dressed out on the mostly dark balcony.

“Look, I’m afraid it’s bad news,” he says. “The AC’s out.”

No shit, I just barely keep myself from saying.

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