He pats his stomach and I chuckle. “Yeah, you sure did. I think you’re better at that than I am, you know.”
“Nah, not even close.”
“No, really! You should have seen it, you and Chip dancing together, I should have recorded it. You two looked like pros together.”
His face turns red and he looks away. “You’re silly, sweetheart.”
There’s a little edge in his voice that I’m not expecting, and my brow furrows. Had I said something wrong? Maybe I’m imagining it, but I could swear I see a little twitch in his jaw.
There have been several moments in this trip where he hasn’t quite seemed like he was fully with me, but this is the first time he’s seemed bothered while in that state. I’ve wanted to ask what’s on his mind, but I also don’t want to bug him if he’s not ready to talk about it.
So I decide to change the subject. “So, what are you feeling?” I ask, forcing a little extra cheer in my voice to see if I can bring the mood back, “Do we want to go eat down on the beach again, or should we finally actually try their indoor dining?”
We kept saying we were going to try the resort’s restaurant, but we kept defaulting to the beach café. I couldn’t help myself, I could just sit and stare at the ocean all day.
“I think I’m up to staying indoors,” Brendon says with a small smile, rubbing the end of his nose.
I giggle. “Yeah, let’s give your burn a little more time to heal, I want to go back out to the tidepools tomorrow morning.”
“You bet,” he smiles and nods, and to my relief, it seems like the weird, unpleasant moment is past us.
I slip my arm around his waist and give him a squeeze. “I love you.”
He beams and kisses my forehead. “Love you, too, beautiful. Now, come on, let’s go kick off the dancing shoes and get some grub.”
Chapter Eleven
Brendon
While I’m lying awake staring at the ceiling, Hazel sleeps soundly beside me, occasionally letting out a soft little snore. While my body’s drained and tired, my mind is racing and I can’t shut it off.
I still hadn’t found my moment to ask Hazel to marry me, and with every passing day, my chance at the “perfect” moment was rapidly running out. We’re halfway through our trip at this point, and while I’ve had a dozen chances that would have been great, I’m still hesitating and I don’t know why.
And on top of that, there are new, weird feelings bouncing around in my skull. That private dance lesson with Chip had been strangely intense, and I’d felt a little unsettled ever since.
I told myself that my skin was tingling where he touched me because of the sunburn, but I think deep down I knew that wasn’t the case.
I like women. I’ve always liked women, been drawn to softness and curves, so why is this male dance teacher stirring these very distinct feelings of arousal in me?
I’ve looked at a guy or two in passing, but no one’s ever struck me quite like this. When Chip and I were dancing together…it honestly felt kind of like dancing with Hazel had: sensual, intimate, and what freaked me out was that I liked it and wanted more.
I’m disgusted with myself just for thinking about it, honestly. Hazel’s the love of my life, and the very notion of me cheating on her is laughable. But even thinking about another person in a way that’s anything but platonic feels like a betrayal, even though I know I can’t help my own thoughts.
So why does it even matter? Okay, maybe Chip did kind of turn me on, but I’m never going to act on it, so why am I worrying about it?
I roll onto my side. Hazel’s back is to me and I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her against my chest. She stirs, not quite waking, and makes a little noise of protest until the warmth of my skin meets hers, at which point she settles back down with a content little moan.
I press my lips to the back of her head, the sweet floral perfume of her shampoo pervading my nostrils. I love her so much it fucking hurts sometimes, and I know I’d fall to pieces if I lost her.
So whatever’s going on inside my head, it doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. I’ll get through that dance class tomorrow, and then I’ll spend the rest of my vacation enjoying my future bride.
Rather than dwelling on weird feelings that I’ll be putting behind me in a few more days, I decide to think about that, about making Hazel my wife. But the more I toss and turn and try and put Chip out of mind, the more prevalent he becomes until finally, I can’t take it.
I need some fresh air, so I carefully disentangle myself from Hazel and pad out onto the balcony of our room. The night air is comfortably cool, carrying the scent of the ocean, and on my overheated skin, it feels like a healing balm.
I lean over the railing, staring out at the reflection of the moon on the ocean. Fuck, it’s beautiful, and at this late hour, there doesn’t seem to be another soul around.
Although it’s far from quiet. Even without human noise, the Caribbean night creates its own symphony, with the staccato chirping of crickets dancing over the rhythmic backbeat of the ocean. The rustling of palm leaves in the wind is like a melody tying the whole thing together, and for a while, I just listen and let the music of nature take over my brain.