Page 63 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
I couldn’t help the smug smile unfolding on my face. And just like that, it was easy to step into our usual cadence of banter. I could almost forget our heated moment in the humid rainforest, followed so quickly by his rejection. Almost.
“Because, you know, someone did warn you about that,” I said with a lilting voice.
Beck mumbled about needing to find something to clean up the mess.
I looked at the tint of the canvas that walled our yurt. The tangerine hue hinted that the sun had barely rolled its ass out of bed.
“What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
“A little after six. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He double-checked the inside of his shoe before slipping it on. “Go back to sleep. Barring any other wildlife attacks, I’ll be quiet.”
“What are you doing up?” I asked, my curiosity overriding the need for sleep.
“The others are going to the beach today,” he said like that explained everything.
“I know. I heard them talking about it last night when I went to take my shower.”
“I want to get out of here before the group wakes up so they won’t harass me about not going.”
I trod cautiously, knowing the topic hit a nerve. “Because you’re not a beach kind of guy?”
“Right,” he agreed, sounding tense.
I sat back on the bed. “So, what are you going to do?”
“There’s a trail about ten minutes from town with waterfalls and pools and a nature-made waterslide.”
“Cool, can I—” I started to ask if I could go with him, but then the sting of his rejection throbbed, reminding me to shut up before I could get hurt any further. “Never mind,” I said, laying back down and pulling the comforter to my chin. “Have a good time.”
“Did you—” Beck paused, and he seemed nervous, actually nervous, to finish the question. “Did you want to come with me?”
I lowered the blanket, if only by a little, not ready to relax my guard. “That depends. Do you want me to come with you?”
Beck looked away. “It’s selfish for me to ask you to come. This is your vacation. I know you looked forward to going somewhere beachy. You should be with the group, enjoying yourself.”
I did sit up at that. “I was looking forward to the beach, Beck. I had a great time with the group the other day.” I swallowed. Time to be brave. “But it didn’t compare to the hike with you yesterday. Didn’t come close.”
Beck turned back, reading me with those brown eyes, looking for a lie, but he would only find sincerity. “Emily Lane,” he said, “would you like to see the jungle with me today?”
“Sure,” I replied, throwing the blanket off. “Someone has to save your ass from the scorpions.”
The park in Uvita enchanted me just as much as the one in Manuel Antonio had, with its tangle of trees, white-faced monkeys, and the gush of water that could be heard below not long after we began our descent. Down, down, down we trekked, holding onto the wooden railing as the stairs plummeted through the greenery.
At the office, I’d take the elevator if it could save me two flights of stairs. Here, I worried the descent would be over too soon.
The whole trip would be over too soon. Three of the seven days had already passed. By the end of today, the vacation would be half over. My stomach sank at that.
I should have been thankful. I’d done so much. Seen so much: sailed over turquoise water, sunbathed on a white-sanded beach, explored a rainforest teeming with life.
Then there were the moments with Beck: him pulling me from danger with the snake, having dinner and learning more about him in that hour over gallo pinto than I had with months at the office; the dancing—God, having him take control and grip my body; and then that kiss.
I ached for what could have been last night—if Beck hadn’t shut things between us down. But he was right. Pursuing this, us, was a mistake. This trip, my time with him, hell, even this crazy idea to pretend to be Hailey so I could play the part of the calligrapher—it was on borrowed time. All of it.
And when the trip ended, the lock would snick back into place, keeping me in the little box I’d created for myself. The prison I’d willingly crafted with the choices I’d freely and happily made.
Go to school for business—to keep myself safe.
Stay at the job I hate—to keep myself safe.
