Page 59 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
It took an extra beat for my words to register with Beck, but when they did, he took a step back, suddenly aware of how close we stood. “Don’t worry, Lane. I’m on it.”
As soon as he pulled away, I regretted shattering the moment. What was the point of guarding myself against falling for him? I stumbled off that cliff the night before—probably sooner.
I’d been losing my footing for some time now. I’d dedicated myself to trying on Hailey’s life. What would she do in this situation? I could almost hear her voice answer in my mind: I’d let myself slip.
After a stunning, albeit humid, hike, we finally made it to Playa Escondido—the beach portion of the park. The glimmering blue ocean spread out like a prize for surviving the jungle.
“God, the water looks so refreshing,” Beck said, and the comment would have surprised me—seeing as he wasn’t a beach person—if it hadn’t been scorching out.
His shirt stuck to the front of his hard chest, soaked. He was flushed, and beads of sweat dripped down his jaw.
Without my permission, my imagination ran wild—keeping the character but changing the setting: back at the resort suite, him on top of me—sweating for an entirely different reason.
I needed to get in that water ASAP. Cool me down, alright. As our feet met the sand, I chucked off my shoes, skipped out of my socks, and flung off my shorts. Luckily, I knew the hike included the beach, and I’d worn my bathing suit underneath.
Scanning the water for a marker, I found a lady with a large hat. She stood not quite as far as the twenty-five meters for half a lap, but it would do. “Race you out to where the lady in the straw hat stands and back.”
I didn’t wait for him to take off his hiking clothes or even respond. I needed every advantage.
My feet pounded on the sand before meeting the deliciously cool water. As soon as I was deep enough, I dove, and for a moment, I let myself suspend—spear-shaped—in the most refreshing water I’d ever experienced. Every cell in my body seemed to sigh at the drop in temperature. Then, I made myself work, pushing my arms forward, kicking my legs, propelling through the water.
I came up for air and lifted my face, searching for my marker. The straw hat was only a little further. I kept going until I saw her figure on my right, then I dove down, trying to remember how Beck described the flip turn. Curl. Twist. Kick. No wall to push off, so I kicked furiously instead.
I surfaced and realized I’d successfully turned the right way. I would have given a victorious war cry if I had the energy. Instead, I pretended each scoop of water was part of a rock wall, and I climbed through. Pulling myself forward.
I couldn’t see Beck. Meaning he either whipped by me so fast I hadn’t caught him, or I had actually held my own (not likely, but a girl could dream). Pulling my head up, I tried to spot him, and I did. Beckett Atteridge was still on the beach. Feet planted like a palm tree.
I tested putting my own feet down and found it shallow enough for standing. I thought Beck might say he hadn’t agreed to a race, or I’d lost the bottom of my bikini, or Jaws picked people off in the surf. But he just looked at me, almost sad. Then he turned, heading for the tree line.
“Beck, wait!”
I exited the water into the hot jungle air, grabbing my shirt, shorts, and shoes in one swoop. I’d barely managed to get my bottoms on when I got back on the trail. My feet thudded on the wood-plank pathway. As I rounded a corner, I had to skid to a stop to keep from smacking into his back.
“Where are you going?” I asked, breathlessly pulling my shirt over my head.
He kept walking. “I told you. I’m not a big—”
I whirled on him, putting a hand on his chest to make him stop. “Beach person?” I finished. “Who cares? Beck, we did a long hike. It’s hot as the devil’s taint out here. You’re sweating. You’re flushed. You’ll feel better after a quick dip.” I tried to push him back towards the beach, but he didn’t budge.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t.” He looked at the trees and then back at me, pained.
I took his hand in mine. No one was watching us. I didn’t have to pretend to be his girlfriend. But I wanted to be in this moment with him for whatever reason. He looked at our hands for a long while. I thought he might pull away, but he didn’t.
“You don’t have to tell me anything. But Beck, you can trust me with this.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and I could see the conflict warring in those brown eyes. “It’s not a pretty story, Emily.”
“Tell me anyway,” I said quietly.
He sighed, sliding his hand from my grasp but not stepping away. “I guess I owe you since you won.”
“No.” I shook my head, not wanting him to feel forced to talk about something that obviously tormented him. “That was about your tattoo.”
His mouth stretched into a straight line. “They’re one and the same.”
