The Two Week Stand by Samantha Towle

nine

Dillon

Offering his hand, which I take, West helps me down from the boat and onto the jetty. I notice how callous and rough his skin is. I didn’t notice it when I held his hand in the water earlier. I wonder if that’s from his job. Whatever that might be.

I should ask, get to know him. It’d be nice to have a friend here on the island for the next two weeks.

But we want to be more than just his friend, Dillon.

That’s just my vagina talking. I’m choosing to ignore her.

“Wanna grab a drink?” West asks as we start walking down the jetty.

“Yeah, sure. That’d be great.”

“Bar we were in last night or the bar by the pool?”

“Bar by the pool.” It has nothing to do with the fact that I got shitfaced in the bar I went to last night and that I’m planning to avoid it for a good few days, so the bar workers forget who the drunken girl from last night was.

“Cool. They serve food as well if you’re hungry.”

“I can always eat.”

“Good. I like a girl with an appetite.”

“Well, I definitely have an appetite. A big one.”

“You still talking about food here?” he says.

I look across at him. He’s already staring down at me, and I feel myself starting to heat under his gaze.

“Of course,” I manage out.

“Shame.”

I look away, a smile on my face. Because he’s definitely flirting with me.

We reach the bar a few minutes later and take a seat at one of the tables closest to the water. I put my bag down on the floor beside me.

“It’s bar service here,” West tells me. “Let me know what you want, and I’ll go to the bar and order for us.”

I grab the small menu off the table and give it a quick look. “I’ll have a burger and fries.”

“Drink?”

“Beer.” Maybe I shouldn’t be drinking after how much I drank last night, but I’m on holiday, and it’s an unwritten law that you have to day drink. Especially when you’re at an all-inclusive.

“No cocktails today?”

“Was that what I was drinking last night at the bar?” I ask. A lot of last night is still blurry.

“Long Island iced tea. Margarita. Then, you moved on to Fireball shots.”

“Ugh.” I groan. “I really have no control once I start drinking.”

“You were going for it last night. It was pretty impressive. I’ve never seen someone as small as you drink that much liquor.”

“Thanks. I think.”

He chuckles. “It was a compliment.”

“Yeah. I was … letting off some steam, I guess. Coming here and it was supposed to be my … and seeing the card and champagne in the room … yeah, anyway, I just needed to get drunk.”

“Well, you definitely did that.” He smiles. “Did it help?”

“Kinda. Not really. I don’t know.” I look away to the water.

“So, beer,” he says, stepping over the awkwardness in the air that I put there. “Bottle or tap?”

“Bottle.”

“What brand?”

“I’m not fussy.”

“Okay.” He stands. “I’ll be back in a few.”

“Thank you,” I say as he walks over to the bar.

While he’s gone, I pull the tie out of my hair and give it a spray with my detangling-and-conditioning spray. I love having long, thick, wavy hair, but it’s a bitch to take care of at times. After being in the seawater today, it’ll need another wash when I get back to my villa. I brush through my hair, getting out the tangles, and then I tie it back up into a bun. Then, I get out my sunscreen and apply some to my arms, face, and neck. A little protection if I’m going to be sitting out here in the sun while I eat.

I’m just putting my sunscreen away when West puts down a beer bottle in front of me on the table and sits down in his chair.

“Food will be about fifteen minutes,” he tells me.

“Cool. Thank you.”

“So, Double D, I’d ask if you enjoyed losing your snorkeling virginity, but I think I know the answer.”

“Ugh. Are you going to call me that the whole time I’m here?”

“Probably.” He grins.

“Fine. Then, I’ll call you … Compass. No, Westy!” I have a flash of memory of calling him that last night and him hating it.

He stares at me a moment, weighing this up. Then, he shrugs and sips his beer. “Fine.”

Ugh. Whatever.

“So, snorkeling …” I go back to his question. “Well, before Sharkgate, it was actually okay. I had no clue just how pretty the ocean was.”

“There are some stunning reefs here.”

“Where else have you snorkeled?” I ask him.

“Hawaii, Fiji, Thailand … but it was mostly scuba diving then.”

“So, just a few places then.”

“I’m fairly well traveled.” He leans back in his chair and rests his right foot on his left knee.

He looks so relaxed and at ease with who he is. Although, if I looked like him, I probably would as well.

Picking up my beer, I take a sip of the ice-cold liquid, enjoying the feel of it going down, cooling my overheated body.

It’s so bloody hot here.

I press the base of the bottle to my chest to try and cool me down. When I look up, West is watching me … well, the bottle really and where it is, and his pupils are super dilated.

I freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do. I don’t want him to stop looking at me. I know it’s vain, but I don’t care.

But I also can’t sit here with this bottle on my chest for much longer without looking weird.

And I really don’t want to look weird.

Decision made, I lift the bottle back up to my lips and take another drink. When I look back at West, he’s still watching me, but his eyes are on my face now.

“Look … Dillon, I’m a straightforward guy, so I’m just gonna say what I wanted to say to you last night but couldn’t because you were trashed.”

“Okay …” My heart starts to thrum in my chest. I lift my bottle to my lips and take another sip of beer.

“I think you’re hot,” he continues. “And I want to fuck you.”

I choke on my beer. Actually coughing, spluttering choke on my beer.

For Christ’s sake.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Fine.” I bang my fist on my chest. Cough. “I’m fine.” Another cough.

“You want some water?”

“I’m fine.” Cough. “Really fine.” I clear my throat and take a small sip of beer.

It doesn’t help, obviously.

But I keep hold of the bottle for the need to do something with my hands. “So …” I say.

“So”—his lips lift at the corner—“I figure I shocked you.”

“Shocked me? No! Not at all!” I glance down at the table before looking back up at him. “Actually, yeah, you really did. I’ve never had a man say that to me before.”

“Then, you haven’t been around the right type of men.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

He laughs, and I really like the sound. It makes my chest light up in the best kind of way.

“I like you, Dillon. You’re funny and quirky, almost as honest as me, and you are seriously sexy as fuck.”

He thinks I’m sexy. Holy crapping hell!

“And I would really like to have sex with you, but I also know that you recently went through some shit with your ex …”

And my moment of happiness over hot West calling me sexy plummets to the sand at my feet. “Did I, um … tell you last night? When I was drunk?”

“Yeah.”

“What exactly did I tell you?”

“That your asshole fiancé was sleeping with your mom.”

“Oh my God,” I groan, covering my face with my hands. “I can’t believe I told you. I am so embarrassed.”

He reaches over the table and tugs my hands from my face. “You’ve no reason to be embarrassed. About the snorkeling? Definitely. That was pretty bad. And Sharkgate? Totally embarrassing.” He laughs softly. “But what they did to you … betraying you like that? Especially your mom. Dillon, you have nothing to feel embarrassed about. It’s them who should be feeling shame.”

His words should make me feel better, but they don’t. Knowing my mum, she’s probably convinced herself that her cheating with Tim was somehow my fault. That’s how a true narcissist works.

And me, well, I really shouldn’t be allowed to drink or be around people ever because I can’t keep my stupid, big mouth shut.

“Look, I know this would be classed as bad timing,” West continues, “with what you recently went through, but we’re only here for two weeks, and then we’ll both go home to our sides of the world and never see each other again. I’m attracted to you, and you’re attracted to me. The sexual chemistry is there between us already, so imagine what it’d be like if we actually hooked up.”

I’m pretty sure my jaw is on the floor. No man has ever spoken so openly and directly to me about sex before.

It’s actually kind of a huge turn-on. Who knew?

He’s suggesting that we hook up. Don’t people just do that naturally, without a whole conversation about it? Not that the conversation isn’t hot, but …

“When you say hook up … do you mean like a one-night stand?” I say because honestly, I don’t know what else to say. I’m new to this talking about sex before doing it business.

He smiles, and it’s just so frigging sexy. “Well, I was kind of thinking more along the lines of you and me hooking up for the duration that we’re here on the island.”

Oh.

Wow.

“You mean, like … a two-week stand?”

He chuckles low, and I feel it like a hand between my legs. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“I’m really not sure what to call it,” I whisper.

His look is searing. “Sex, Dillon. You call it really fucking hot sex for two weeks straight. If you let me, I’ll make you come so hard and I’ll fuck you in so many ways that you’ll still be feeling me for weeks after.”

Oh, that sound you hear? Well, that’s the sound of the elastic in the crotch of my swimsuit snapping open in anticipation.