He screeched to a stop, his chin sloping down, his deep-blue eyes darkening. Suddenly, we were staring at each other, our noses not even an inch apart, and the noise and shrieks and laughter and kids cannonballing into pools ceased to exist.
Cruz Costello looked…hungry.
And not for food.
My heart cartwheeled into a pool of something warm and gooey, and I resisted to urge to lick my lips.
For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. He clutched me deeper against his pecs, muscular as a Greek god, and every nerve ending in my body sizzled.
My insides turned into thick, syrupy liquid…and then I remembered who he was and what he’d done to me.
And also, that he had a girlfriend I hated （sometimes. In my head）。
I snapped my head to the other side, making a show of checking out my two-inch nails.
“What the heck was that, Costello?”
“Nothing, Turner. You were just looking at me weird, so I searched for obvious signs of a heart attack. Your pupils are dilated, by the way.”
“Uh-huh. Just remember you have a girlfriend.”
“I don’t, actually.”
I had no business feeling as gleeful as I felt when he said that.
He resumed his sauntering with me in his arms. Only now, he was trudging. I felt his irritated footsteps on my spine.
We still couldn’t spot our families at the bar. It was packed, loud, and spilling over with people in different states of undress and intoxication.
The scent of BO, chlorine, and cheap alcohol drifted into my nostrils. Heaven. How come no one had ever bottled it into a perfume?
“Nawwww.” I made an exaggerated gesture, placing a hand on my heart. “But you were so perfect together. Oatmeal Couple of the Year. So, am I your next conquest? Your rebound?”
“Rebounds aren’t my speed.”
Was it me, or had he not flat-out denied it?
“So why’d you look like you were going to kiss me? Is it because I don’t fall at your feet?” I taunted.
“I usually like my dates at crotch level. If they’re at my feet, they’re doing something wrong.”
“Gross. Also—sexist.”
“Natural. Also—not if I’m reciprocating. Which, for your general knowledge, I always do. Anyway, you said I could be myself around you, right? That’s me. Take it or leave it.”
“I choose to leave it,” I said emphatically, my heart beating a thousand miles a minute, because what was going on?
Were we actually discussing sex?
“Well, sweetheart, I was never yours to begin with. Now call your parents again. I’ll try my mother.”
He put me down, having had enough of my malice. I caught a glimpse of the ocean for the first time. It was endless and blue and promising, spread at my feet, and I reminded myself that in a few minutes, I wouldn’t have to deal with Haughty McHotson at all.
I’d be too busy with my family, my son, and my tan.
No more basket making, no more tables to serve. Things were finally, finally looking up.
I called my mother, then my father, then Bear. I was waiting for Bear to pick up when I heard Cruz’s mother’s voice blasting through his phone’s speaker.
“Cruz? Where are you, darling?”
“Upper deck. Waterpark bar. We’re looking for you.”
I whipped my head to catch him video-chatting his mother, pacing from side to side. I wasn’t the only one who was staring. The entire female population of the cruise ship was ogling this piece of prime meat. Some of the men, too.
Stupid pride filled my chest. Everyone could look, but he was with me. But then I was also filled with dread, because not only were we NOT together, he was literally trying his hardest to get away from me.
“Yes. We’re at the lounge, which is right at the back. You’ll see the beautiful chandelier, made of empty vintage liquor bottles. So very pretty. I’m wearing an ivory dress and a straw hat, and Donna is wearing…oh, I don’t know what she is wearing, darling. These people wouldn’t recognize a good fashion choice if it whacked them across the tush.”
Welp.
I was pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to hear that.
I had no doubt I was lumped together with these people. The blue-collared folks of Fairhope.
Cruz had the decency to shoot me an apologetic glance before hurrying to the back of the waterpark’s bar.
“I can’t see the lounge. Are you sure you’re at the waterpark?”
“By the waterpark.”
“Yeah, I don’t see any chandeliers, either. Just a bar that looks like a yellow submarine.”