We find an available spot with two chairs and a low table near the water slide. I haven’t been on one since I was ten and my dad took me to my first water park. I don’t remember much of it, but it was a lot of fun, especially when Aran and I played with water guns. We were a team, and we completely annihilated the other participants, landing ourselves the big prize—a pair of customizable luxury water guns. I still keep them in a box in my storage room.
A waitress in a flowery top and bikini walks over to us from the bar once we’ve settled, smiling like she’s won the lottery.
“Hi there, gentlemen. I haven’t seen you around. Are you enjoying yourselves?” she asks, eye-fucking Aran right in front of me.
Hold your horses, lady. This man is taken. By me.
“We are regulars. Maybe you just missed us yesterday,” I say, arching an eyebrow.
She squints at me as if trying to place me. I take the opportunity to return the favor, concluding that she must be around my age, maybe a couple years older. Her tawny hair is neatly braided, her eyes are big and green, and her body is, well, that of a woman, so our age is the only thing that we have in common.
“No, I’d have remembered you,” she says with a smile, her attention already locked on Aran.
He looks at her and relaxes into the sun-chair. “So, you know the other regulars then?” he says, unbuttoning his shirt.
The woman’s eyes shimmer with interest, growing a little wider as he pops the last button and exposes his six-pack. Or is it an eight-pack? I always get confused how to count. Regardless of the number, it’s a mouth-watering area of his body and it’s not usually something he shows off.
So why is he? She’s clearly interested, but he’s not shut her down yet.
“I do. It’s part of my job,” the woman says, twirling a lock of her hair.
“And so is serving us and theother guestsdrinks,” I cut in, crossing my arms and shooting her a dirty look.
I’m not the jealous type. But I’ve also never been this close to claiming what’s mine, so if Miss Flirty Smile thinks she can snatch my Romeo from me, she’s very mistaken.
The taken-aback look on her face brings a proud smirk to mine.
“Ignore my friend’s rudeness. He’s been seasick since yesterday and hasn’t eaten anything,” Aran says with a subtle but stormy frown my way.
What?
“Oh. That’s very unfortunate.” She smiles at me sympathetically. “If you go to the bar and ask for a Sourie, Ben will whip it up for you. It helps with the nausea.”
I aim at Aran an even bigger glare, but he’s no longer looking at me. His gaze is trained on the woman, and worst of all, it’s grown in intensity so much my stomach fills with nerves. He’s looking at her in the kind of way I wish he looked at me. It’s fucking unfair.
Everything they say from that point on goes over my head. He’s asking her something about the people who come here often, and then about their drinks, her shift times, how many staff work here…
By the way their conversation is going, you’d think he’s enjoying it. I’m convinced he’s doing this on purpose. But why?
I snatch a glass of juice from a waiter who passed by with a tray. Cradling the drink with both hands, I take the straw in my mouth and take a big sip. Prickles cover my skin from how sour the mixture is, but I keep drinking.
Is it because he wanted to teach me a lesson for oversleeping? So that next time I promise to get up on time, I do it? Or is it because I snapped at the woman? But this is a bit going overboard, isn’t it? Besides, how does flirting with someone who’s not me even relate to it?
For the next five minutes, I’m forced to witness their back-and-forth. I refuse to go anywhere else, fearful that the moment I step away, she’ll use her womanly charm and seduce him. If I am not here to save him, he might even fall for such a cheap trick, since, after all, Aran doesn’t exactly have a blooming sex life.
The last time he was with someone was… I nibble the tip of the straw, trying to remember. Two years ago, maybe? It’s not like I keep track of such things… mostly. But I know my dream man in and out. Which is why this is weird. He’s not the kind of person to do this, especially since he knows I only have eyes for him.
So, why is he?
I glare at the two lovebirds, planning out my next move. This is on me—I should’ve been more assertive. I’ve let things be for the most part, not pressuring him as much as I should, so maybe he’s decided to move on now that an opportunity to do so has made itself conveniently available.
Shit, could this really be it? Was this morning the last straw? He wasn’t particularly happy that I went with the Lynxes last night, and he was weird afterwards, too. Things got a bit heated in a way they haven’t before, and even though he didn’t kiss me like I was sure he would, it felt like something changed then. So, maybe having to wake me up in the morning and drink my poisonous coffee put the nail in the coffin after the almost slip-up.
Suddenly, I’m buzzing and not in a good way. I need to do something to regain control of this situation before the Evil Witch enraptures him fully. But what could I even do? He’s completely engrossed as the two of them laugh at something she said like I don’t even exist. They are so into it that if I left now, he probably wouldn’t even notice.
Grr. I hate this. But I am at a loss, too. It feels like it’s game over for me and I don’t even know how it happened.
Agitation clamps on my chest, making it difficult to think and come up with a plan. My man is possibly slipping between my fingers and I don’t know how to stop it. It’s a defeat, and I have no choice but to accept it.
