The Two Week Stand by Samantha Towle

eight

Dillon

It’s official. I’m shit at snorkeling.

Everyone is off and exploring, West included, and I’m here, choking on seawater. He made that offer to help me lose my snorkeling virginity when we were back on the boat, but he didn’t mention it again when we were getting in the water, so I didn’t say anything either.

But contrary to what he said before, I don’t mind being alone. I mean, it’s not my favorite. I like people. I like the company of them. But I can be alone. I came all the way here alone, didn’t I?

Now, if I could just figure out this snorkeling business. I honestly don’t know where I’m going wrong. I listened to what Aden said about putting it on and … okay, so I didn’t fully listen.

I was too distracted by West. What he’d said, the whole who said it was bullshit thing. Yes, I totally said it in a deep American accent in my head. But it wasn’t just that. It was him … his proximity to me. That damn thigh nearly touching mine. Every move he made, down to each inhale and exhale of breath, I was aware of.

It’s maddening. Why am I so aware of this guy after such a short period of time? I’m not supposed to be interested in anyone else. Not after what I’ve just been through.

Unless … this interest I have in West and the attention he’s giving me, maybe I’m soaking it up because it makes me feel better. I was so sick of feeling sad all the damn time. It’s nice to not feel sad. Around West, I don’t feel sad.

Yes, I’m slightly irritated and in a perpetual state of arousal and confusion, but I’m not sad.

And honestly, after what I’ve been through, I’ll take that.

I readjust my goggles, put the mouthpiece back in my mouth, and then lower my head into the water.

All is good for a few seconds, and then I breathe in and take a load of water. I lift my head up, coughing and spluttering, yanking the mouthpiece out.

“Argh!” I shove the bloody goggles up to the top of my head.

I’m tempted to pull them off and launch them into the ocean, but I don’t want to get billed for losing them and end up having to pay for a new set for them. I really have no clue how much snorkels and goggles cost.

“Your tube is the wrong way.”

“What?” I turn in the water to find West behind me.

Where the heck did he come from?I thought he’d swum off to explore with the rest of the group. Guess I was wrong.

“Your breathing tube. It’s the wrong way.”

He swims closer, and I find my body tensing in anticipation of his nearness.

“Here.” He takes the breathing bit from me and shows me how the tube is the wrong way. “So, when you go under, the tube is in the water too.”

My cheeks flame red with mortification. “Oh my God. I’m so embarrassed. I’m such an idiot.”

“I’d disagree with you, but …”

I give him a dirty look and splash water at him.

“Hey!” He’s laughing. “You said it! Not me! See, this is why you should listen when the guy on the boat—you know, the expert—is talking, telling you what you need to do.”

“I was listening.” I totally wasn’t. I’ve always had a hard time listening to instructions. Someone starts talking, and I just tune out and go into the stories in my head. My teachers always said I was a dreamer. I wasn’t. I was—am a writer. “Kind of. But you weren’t listening.”

“No, but I’ve snorkeled hundreds of times. You’ve snorkeled …” He gestures his hand for me to finish for him.

“Never,” I say begrudgingly.

“Well, seeing as though I like you, you can stick with me, and I’ll guide you, make sure you don’t drown yourself.”

He likes me?

That’s all I heard in that statement that mattered. I got the rest, and hanging with him for the duration of this trip and not by myself is hardly a hardship.

“You sure you don’t mind? I won’t be holding you back?”

“I’m sure. I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

“Then, I accept your offer.”

He smiles. “First, let’s tighten your goggles a little too. They look like they’re letting in a bit of water.” He swims behind me and starts tightening the elastic strap.

I’m just here, treading water, with his fingers leaving little trails of fire on my head, wherever they touch.

I’ve just had the worst experience a person could have. Caught my mother having an affair with my fiancé, my heart shredded to pieces, and I’m literally on my honeymoon alone, lusting over this guy.

My libido clearly hasn’t gotten the memo.

Or maybe I just wasn’t as into Tim as I thought I was. Maybe I just liked the idea of him more than I actually liked him.

The security he was offering. The way he treated me kindly—until he didn’t.

“All done.”

West’s hands fall to my shoulders. My skin breaks out in goose bumps.

“You ready to snorkel?” His voice is deep and husky in my ear.

I have to suppress a shudder.

I swallow down and say, “Yes.” It comes out a little croaky.

“You sound nervous.”

I turn in the water to face him. His hands fall from my shoulders. It’s definitely easier to think and talk when his hands aren’t on me. Those big hands that covered my shoulders … just imagine what they could do to me …

Okay, so I was wrong. Removing his hands from me didn’t help.

Now, I’m looking into his face because in the water, we’re the same height, and all I can think about is him touching me with those hands and my lips sucking the water droplets from his mouth.

An image of me and him having sex flashes through my mind.

My heart speeds up. I can feel my body heating in response to the thought. I’m in warmish water, but I feel like I’m on fire. I know my neck and chest are flushed because West’s eyes are now on them.

Stupid body gives my thoughts away every time.

His eyes lift, meeting mine with knowledge.

He knows I want him.

We’re already close, but when he tips his head forward, it puts his mouth centimeters from mine.

I gulp down. His breath blows through my parted lips.

I bite down on my lip and try to regain control over my body.

I’m in the middle of the Indian Ocean, and I’m getting aroused over a guy I barely know.

“We’ll snorkel now. We’ll talk about this later.”

This? What’s this?

But I don’t get a chance to ask because he’s swimming away, ducking his head down into the water.

I wait a beat, confused. My mind still reeling over what this actually is. Then, I give up thinking, duck my head into the water, and follow after West.

When I catch up to him, he’s floating on the surface, staring down at one of the reefs.

The moment I look down at what he’s seeing, my insides light with happiness at the utter beauty of the reef.

Then, I feel a hand touch mine. I tilt my head to look and see that West has curled his large hand around mine, engulfing it. My stomach swoops just like the shoal of fish I’ve been watching.

Hand-holding. Such a small act. But it can be so incredibly intimate when you’re hot for a guy.

And I’m hot for West. So fucking hot.

He gestures to something and then starts to swim, taking me with him.

Maybe he just held my hand to get my attention and to lead me over to what he wants to show me. I don’t need to be getting carried away.

But on the surface minutes ago, there was definite sexual tension between us, and then there’s the this that we’ll be talking about later.

And I really need to stop overthinking and analyzing about a guy I haven’t even known twenty-four hours even if we did share a bedroom last night. What I need to do right now is look at the life and beauty happening right below me.

I follow along with West, moving farther away from the boat and from the group we came here with. It’s like we’re in our own little bubble.

We could almost be the couple he pretended us to be earlier, and …

Stop being weird, Dillon. And get out of your head.

I toss all thoughts out of my brain.

Something to the right catches my attention. The instant I see it, I freeze. Pretty sure my heart stops, missing a good few beats.

Then, the panic sets in, and I kick into action. Pulling free from West’s hand, I push up to the surface, kicking my legs like a maniac. I pull the mouthpiece from my mouth, breathing heavily.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Shark!” I yell just as West resurfaces. “Th-there’s a shark! We have to get out of here! Back to the boat!” I’m literally living every one of those damn shark movies that I’ve ever seen.

And in each one, the idiot like me almost definitely dies.

I start kicking my legs to get moving. But I’m stopped by West. His hands wrapping around my waist.

“Relax. It’s fine. It’s not gonna hurt you.”

“It’s a shark!”

“It’s sleeping.”

“I don’t care if it’s having a mani-pedi! It’s a fucking shark, and I really don’t want to be eaten!”

He chuckles. “You’re not going to be eaten. It’s only a reef shark. Probably about seven or eight feet long. Not big at all.”

“That’s almost twice my size!”

He nods. “That’s true. You are tiny.”

“Oh fuck. It’s gonna eat me, for sure. It’s gonna see me, the smallest one here, and pick me out as the easy snack!”

“It’s not going to eat you or me or anyone else.”

“What is wrong with you? I’m concerned by how unconcerned you are! Are you missing the fear gene?”

“Shark attacks in the Maldives are almost nonexistent.”

“Almost! You said, almost. What percentage are we talking here? Actually, why are we still in the water, talking?”

“I don’t know the exact percentage—”

“You know nothing.”

“Did you just quote Game of Thrones to me?”

“Not intentionally.”

“Sounds like you did.”

I sigh. “I’m from Yorkshire. Ygritte’s accent is Yorkshire. Everything I say sounds like I’m quoting either her or Jon Snow.”

West chuckles. “Look, Dillon, I promise you, it’s more scared of you than you are of it. You go near that shark, and it’ll swim away—I guarantee it. If it was dangerous, don’t you think I’d have gotten you out of the water already?”

“I don’t know. You could be one of those weird adrenaline junkies who likes to stare death in the face.”

He laughs low. It actually sounds really sexy.

Why am I thinking sexy thoughts in the middle of a shark-and-death situation? I need serious help.

“Nope. I quite like living. And I prefer to get my rushes of adrenaline in other ways,” he says.

“How?”

“Having sex.”

With me?

The thought just popped in, unbidden and uninvited. Thank God it stayed in my head and didn’t come out of my mouth.

What does come out of my mouth though is a croaky-sounding, “Oh.”

I feel one of his hands slide up my waist a touch. Teetering on the bottom of my rib cage.

He’s staring at me in that way again. The one where he looks like he’s hungry as fuck and I’m his next meal.

And it’s weird how much I like it.

Maybe it’s because of the hurt I’ve been feeling and still continue to feel that I’m soaking up the attention he’s giving to me. It makes me feel a little less shitty about myself for that brief period of time.

Then, I remember about the shark. “That shark is still down there, sleeping, right? It hasn’t moved?”

West pulls down his goggles over his eyes and dips his head into the water. He resurfaces a moment later, pulling up his goggles, wiping the water from his face. “It’s still in the reef.”

“Good. Now, I’m going back to the boat and getting out of this water before that seven- or eight-foot shark wakes up and decides to be brave.”

West laughs. “I’ll come with you.”

I give him a look. “I’d expect you to. I mean, who the fuck would want to stay out here to be shark food? Maybe we should warn the others?” I give a quick glance. They’re quite far away. “Nah, they’ll be fine.”

West chuckles and holds out his hand to me. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the boat.”