I’ve been terrified of heights since I was a boy. It’s not like something happened that made me this way. It’s just a deeply engrained fear that’s damn near debilitating. And embarrassing.
Once, when I was a teenager, I visited Seattle with the twins and our nannies. Of course, being in Seattle, we had to go to the Space Needle. When I say I’ve never felt fear like that, I fucking mean it. Between the clear elevator, where you get to watch your fucking ascent, and the viewing deck, my muscles ached from how tightly they clenched. Visions of the entire thing tipping over, and all of us dying brutally, played through my mind the entire time I was there.
And, of course, the twins thought it was hilarious.
It wasn’t hilarious.
So, the fact that I jumped off that cliff practically willy-nilly is astonishing. It was fun as hell… I can’t lie. The adrenaline rush that came with it, and the shock on Caspian’s face when I burst through the water. Worth it.
Now, back to the kiss. Pressing the pads of my fingers to my lips, I swear I can still feel the pressure of his mouth on mine. His hot breath washing over me. I can still taste him as he licked around curiously with palpable need. I never wanted it to end.
And then I ruined it by freaking out about the fucking water.Why am I like this?
When we got back from the cliffs, he made some excuse about needing to run to the main building to talk to someone, but it was vague, and I think it was his way of saying he didn’t want to take our kiss any further. It stung. I tried to not take it personally, but that’s difficult for me. He’s always so hot and cold, and yesterday he was so nice and flirty and actually wanting to hang out. I was eager to ask what caused the change, but I didn’t want to risk ruining the mood. Then he practically ran away from me the moment he could. It’s kind of hard not to think it’s because he hated the kiss or regretted it.
My stomach grumbles. It’s late morning at this point, and if I don’t shove some food down my throat soon, my stomach may very well eat itself just to spite me. Rolling out of bed, I haul my ass into the bathroom, taking a quick glance in the mirror and noting I look like absolute dog shit.
Fuck it.
The sky’s overcast today. It looks like it may rain soon; something I haven’t seen much of since being here, actually. Heard someone say the other day that rainy season here is November to April, so I must’ve barely missed that since it’s just now turning May. It’s still warm and humid.
As I’m walking along the path made to take us from the rooms to the main building, I can’t help but think of Caspian. What’s he doing right now? Is he still sleeping?
Probably not. It’s like after eleven now, if I’m not mistaken.
Has the kiss been on his mind all morning, like it has mine?
Does he regret it? Want it to happen again? Not give a shit one way or another?
I feel like the latter is more on par for him, but I hope not.
Strained laughter reaches my ears, and it takes me a moment to realize the noise is coming from me. Covering my mouth with my fingers, I roll my eyes at myself. My entire life, I’ve always been someone whofeelstoo hard. I latch onto people easily, crush way harder than anyone I know, and despite being fully aware of this, I can’t find a way to stop it from happening.
Abandonment issues.That’s what a therapist once told me.
It’s a little inconvenient, if you ask me.
Pulling open the door to the main building, I step inside, the air conditioning washing over me, making the light sheen of sweat along my neck and back feel chilled. The lobby is busier than it normally is, but I guess, given that it’s a weekend morning, that’s not too unusual. The restaurant in here has a Sunday brunch that seems to be quite popular. It’s nothing like the brunches back in L.A., and there’s no bottomless mimosas—or mimosas at all—but the food is still pretty good.
I round the corner, strolling down the narrow hallway that leads to the entrance of the restaurant. Up ahead, closer to the door, there’re two people standing beside the wall. The closer I get, the clearer they become. It’s Caspian and some chick I’ve never seen. Her hand is on his bicep, and she’s laughing about something, the sound like nails on a chalkboard as I swallow against the sour taste on the back of my tongue.
Caspian looks bored, per usual, but that doesn’t mean anything.
A bitter, wretched feeling swirls around low in my gut as I watch them interact. Observe as this woman flirts shamelessly with him. He must catch sight of me out of his periphery, because his wolfish gray gaze slides over, connecting with mine, and I freeze. A wicked glint shines in his eyes as a barely-there grin tugs on his lips, looking more menacing than anything.
It feels warm in here all of the sudden. Uncomfortably hot, actually. I have to walk past them in order to get into the restaurant or look like a fucking idiot in front of Caspian and turn around to leave. I don’t know which is worse.
I also don’t know why this is bothering me as much as it is.
Cas brings his attention momentarily back to the huge breasted blonde in front of him. She leans in, whispering something in his ear. His eyes find mine once again when she does, holding my gaze. Steeling my spine, I jut my chin out and walk past them. She doesn’t even notice me, only having eyes for Cas. But him, on the other hand… I feel the weight of his stare on me the entire time.
Once inside the restaurant, I let out the breath I’d been holding. The hostess seats me, takes my drink order—much to my dismay, it’s nonalcoholic, of course—and leaves me alone with the menu and my stewing thoughts. It feels like asphalt is churning in my stomach, burning hot and vile.
Has he slept with that woman?
Has he slept with anyone since being here?
What if I’m not the first person he’s kissed here?
