Page 14 of The Secret
I stare at where he’s disappeared. A bit of banter and then …nothing? I wanted it to go somewhere. Although exactly where it might lead at this time of the morning when we live in dorms in a small concrete building makes me scowl at my own stupidity. He’s good at the flirting game, and I like him, but I’ve read too much into things before. He’s so gorgeous, I’ll bet he crooks his little finger and girls come running.
Sighing, I shove my feet back into my flip-flops and head into the dark interior. Dan’s nowhere to be seen, and the makeshift door to the men’s dorm is closed. There’s no sign of Emma either, but singing is drifting in from the outside toilet: a little hut at the far side of the yard with a rainwater collection system for washing. I shoot into the women’s dorm and scan the six camp beds, sucking in a couple of shaky breaths as heat settles around me.What am I doing?I strip out of my sleep shorts and T-shirt, I throw on clean underwear, roll on some deodorant and pull on khaki shorts and a long-sleeved shirt. It’s not the most flattering, but the dust ruins everything here.
When I head outside, Brian, Dan, and Emma are sitting on the veranda downing coffee as I sink into a chair. Dan’s gaze skitters across mine before fixing on Brian.
“What are you guys up to today?” he asks.
“We’re working on a toilet block at a village school a few miles away,” Emma replies. “Want to come out with us and see it?”
“Sounds great. I’ve got three case studies to put together for my thesis, so I need to visit as many villages as possible. My professor recommended this area as one that has the full range of socioeconomic and political problems: land disputes, disease, war … you name it.” He laughs, and it’s all I can do not to stare at his lips, his perfect white teeth, and, holy shit, think about his mouth on other places. How am I going to be remotely sensible working alongside him?
“Yeah, that’s about right,” says Brian. “You can help build if you like. We’re short of volunteers currently, although we might have another person coming out soon.”
My ears prick up. More hands on deck would be amazing.
A half hour later we’re on the road to the village, arriving an hour later to a buzz of activity. This school will be only the second in the region to have real toilets, and local excitement is high at the prospect of avoiding the diseases that debilitate so many of the people here. The women are tending to open fires, cooking breakfast for everyone, and our community coordinator, Kiwale, waves as we make our way to the building site. Brian confers quietly with him, presumably discussing the day’s tasks.
When lunchtime rolls around, two women set up tables and serve hearty stews andakara, a fried bean cake, and my mouth waters as I shake out my aching arms. The full smiles that greet me encourage me to try out some French and my limited Swahili, and they laugh and clap at me. How glad am I that I escaped that law degree? God knows what I’d be doing now. Defending some corrupt corporate, probably. I examine the lady stirring the oil in the big metal wok and my throat tightens. They work so hard, overcoming the insurmountable odds of life out here. We’re helping them, but sometimes I think we get more out of it than they do.
I gather my food and find a space on the ground. And after washing his hands in a pan, Dan plonks himself down in the dirt next to me, under the shade of the rustling raffia shelters. We’ve got a bit of a break now from the heat of the midday sun.
I examine him out of the corner of my eyes.
“God, I need this,” he says, shoveling food into his mouth. “Hard work, isn’t it?” It comes out in a mumble through a mouthful of stew.
I stretch out my hand and tense my bicep in front of his face. It bulges in a very satisfying way. “It’s done wonders for my muscles.”
He turns to me fully and grins, putting his lunch down and wrapping his hand around my arm. His palm is dusty and dry, long fingers kneading into the aching muscle, with his short, neatly trimmed nails, dirt caked in every crevice.God, the sheer manliness of him. My gaze drifts up, over the dusting of blond hair on his forearms and the sleeves of his khaki shirt rolled up to his elbows. When my eyes meet his, he’s watching me look at him, clear blue eyes warm on mine.
Emma appears over his shoulder and breaks the moment, dropping down on the other side of him, clutching a bowl of stew and bean cake. Brian is right behind her.
“Are you comparing arm strength?” she asks, staring at his hands on my arm, but Dan laughs easily.
“I’m like some soft, academic weakling that joined an elite team. How do you guys haul so much stuff all day?” he says.
“Yeah, yeah,” Brian waves dismissively, sitting on the other side of me. “Stop with the flattery. I saw you chucking bricks around.”
Dan shakes his head grinning, and now Emma’s watching the pair of us. She puts her food down and pushes at the cuff of his shirt.
“Let’s see your muscles then.”
Dan laughs and shifts away, but she keeps pushing at his sleeve and my chest tightens as she wrestles with him, smiling up at him.
“Alright, alright,” he says eventually, batting her away and rolling the cotton up his arm, tensing his muscles so they bulge out impressively. Emma giggles and squeezes. Ugh.She’s so obvious.I look down at my bowl and fork in a mouthful of food as Brian grins and folds back his shirt and tenses his biceps, too.
Dan leans over and rolls up the sleeve nearest to me, shoving his left arm in front of my face.
“Seems only fair that you test my biceps as well,” he says softly, and I turn to find his face inches away, warm breath gusting over my shoulder, dust clinging to the side of his face. A smile bubbles up as I take in his flexed bicep, and I put down my food and circle his arm with both hands. His skin is unreal, velvet wrapped around iron and heat. The impulse to run a hand all the way up under the edge of his sleeve is almost overwhelming.He seems so nice, Liss—don’t mess this up.
A smirk dances over his mouth as his gaze meets mine. His lips are firm, the stubble on his chin rough where he clearly decided that shaving this morning was a step too far. An ache starts up deep in my body.
“Well? What do you think?” he says.
It takes me a beat or two to work out what he’s referring to. I squeeze hard, digging my fingers in.
“Pretty impressive.”
All I can think about is having my hands wrapped around his arms as he’s above me, looking down.
