“Your beauty routine for the last four days has consisted of wet wipes and sunscreen,” he says. “You’ll do fine. Plus, I’m starving. Man cannot survive on Clif bars alone.”
I nod, too pleased he hasn’t noticed my secret applications of mascara and tinted moisturizer to argue for more time. I might have learned that I don’t have to wear a face full of makeup, but I’ve also discovered that old habits die hard. As Simone keeps reminding us, pictures last forever, and a safari calls for lots and lots of camera time.
Our room turns out to be almost identical to the last one we stayed in, only this time the beds have been separated already. I wait for the awkwardness to hit, but it doesn’t come. Apparently, trading secrets during an elephant invasion is the trick to achieving comfort with someone. Or maybe it’s just that there’s no time for things to get weird. Deiss tosses his stuff on the far bed the moment we walk in and insists I take the first shower. When I get out, tugging my shirt and skirt over my damp, sticky skin so as not to risk a falling towel, he’s not even there.
He doesn’t return until ten minutes before we’re supposed to leave. I’m tempted to ask where he’s been, but it doesn’t feel appropriate. I’ve never appreciated those kinds of questions directed my way. Still, my gaze follows him covertly as he strolls into the bathroom.
I don’t understand his confidence—how he moves through life without feeling like he owes anyone anything. When I walk into a room and don’t speak, it’s because I don’t know what to say and make the choice to opt for silence over a potential mistake. When he does it, I doubt he’s thinking about anything in particular beyond the shower he wants to take, or the song lyrics running through his head. To him, a nod of acknowledgment is all that’s needed when someone else appears.
“We can’t keep teasing Simone,” he says, coming out of the bathroom as I’m pulling a brush through my wet hair. Like me, he’s opted to put on clothes in the steamy bathroom. His t-shirt has stuck to his skin and is off-center on his shoulders, pulling against his chest. I catch a glimpse of tight abs before he shifts it into place. “She’s freaking out.”
“You saw her?”
“She came by Mac’s room. We were trying to figure out what time we’re going to the airport tomorrow.”
“Oh.” They’re probably expecting me to get my own ride. I leave several hours after them, and the back seat of their car isn’t made for three to sit comfortably. I’d better figure out what’s going on with my card before then. A three-hour taxi can’t be cheap.
“Phoebe used Mac’s points to get you on the same flight as us,” he says casually, as if booking me on a different flight is the most natural thing in the world, “so you can just give him whatever refund you get from the airline.”
“He’s got to cancel that, Deiss.” A last-minute flight will be crazy expensive. The only way I was able to justify the price before was the circuitousness of the route bringing down the cost. “I don’t even know if they’ll refund me. They’ll probably just offer credit.”
“So, see if you can transfer the credit into Mac’s name.” Deiss shrugs and pads over to his shoes. “Or buy him a beer. His agency books all of the flights to his modeling jobs, but the points end up in his name. You know Mac. He’s not using them. He probably thinks they’re a user rating and he gets bonus points every time a flight attendant wants to sleep with him.”
“Um.” I hesitate. “Well, thank you.”
“Thank Phoebe.” He grabs the keys and holds one out. “And Mac, I guess. But mostly Phoebe. She booked you on the flight. All I did was call dibs on driving so I wouldn’t get stuck in the back with you and Simone. Speaking of whom . . .”
“We can’t tease her anymore,” I say obediently, reaching for my key.
He doesn’t let go. Instead, his eyes meet mine over the joined line of our arms. They’re sharply blue, and the intensity in them makes my stomach flip. His tongue slips over his bottom lip, drawing my attention down to his mouth.
“Listen, Liv,” he says hesitantly. “About last night. I really was just trying to calm you down. I had no intention of kissing you.”
“I know,” I say quickly, feeling a pang of hurt. It’s not as if I thought he was actually coming on to me. Surely he doesn’t feel like I’m some naive girl who believes he’s going to become her knight in shining armor overnight. He’s Lucas Deiss, and I’m the Ice Queen. I understand exactly who he is. It’s offensive that he doesn’t have the same understanding of me. “You were trying to distract me from the elephants.”