Anything that will keep me from crossing the line.
But I don’t say any of that.
I, once again, prove I have poor impulse control.
That I really, really do need to say no.
Holden: I’ll do it.
Daisy: Really?
Holden: Really.
God help me.
Chapter Four
Daisy
I’ll do it.
He’s coming with us. He’s coming to Mexico.
The trip is no longer an exercise in Oliver babysitting me.
Or in Luna—
God, I don’t know with her. I don’t think she likes Oliver. But she certainly enjoys flirting with him.
It’s harmless enough. She likes to flirt. It distracts him. Keeps him thinking with his ahem.
Ew.
I’m not thinking about my brother’s sex life.
Not when I have the world’s most perfect text.
I’ll do it.
The three most beautiful words in the English language.
Sure, they aren’t I love you or I need you or please fuck me, but they’re still poetry.
Better than a strong cup of tea.
Or my favorite Lorde album.
Or a book that demands my entire night.
Better than anything.
I lay my cell on my chest. Let its weight sink into my skin.
My eyes close. My fingers brush my thighs. The bottoms of my cotton shorts.
I know Holden isn’t going to touch me. That he isn’t going to fuck me.
But I can still imagine it.
Him standing on the beach in some tiny speedo. Grey. Like his eyes.
Me tracing the ink on his chest. Then the lines of his muscles. All the way down his torso, below his belly button, to the low waist of his swimsuit.
Him whispering I’ve always wanted to be your first.
Stripping me out of my clothes, pinning me to the lifeguard stand, burying himself in me.
It’s all blurry. Dreamy. A vague idea, not a beautiful reality.
I don’t know what that feels like. No one has ever been inside me. I’ve never touched myself that way.
I’ve certainly never let anyone else touch me that way.
Hell, for a long time I stopped thinking about being touched. Or touching anyone.
It’s still new. Scary. Overwhelming.
But this is pure fantasy. A bright, gorgeous dream world where Holden wants me as much as I want him.
Where I’m completely without baggage.
Where there’s no need to say remember how I was away all summer last year? Well, the truth is…
No. There’s nothing in the way.
Just his lips on my lips. His hands on my chest. His body between my thighs.
That same feeling of warmth and hardness and weight I get when I hug him.
The smell of sandalwood and Holden and salt.
I push my shorts to my knees. Then my cotton panties.
My eyes close.
My hand slips between my legs.
It’s still strange, touching myself, even after a year.
It’s easier when it’s him.
But it’s not enough.
I need more.
I need him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Luna reaches for the mini-skirt sitting on top of the no pile. “This is coming.”
She unfolds the skirt. Holds it against her hips. It’s a little small for her—my friend is blessed with an hourglass figure—but she’d still make it work
She holds it up to the light. Marvels at the exact shade of blue.
“I’m bringing sexy stuff already.” I’m still not used to revealing my body. Part of me wants to take Luna’s advice. To pack only clothes that show off my legs, chest, waist. Part of me wants to step into that desirable woman role and find it comfortable.
But the other part—
I’m terrified just thinking about it.
I still avoid tight clothes. They still force my brain to ugly places.
I want to be healthy enough to wear a bodycon dress without wondering if the snug fabric will steal my mental energy.
But I’m not there yet.
I just… I have to find a way to be sexy. In my way.
Luna shakes her head. Taps the peach t-shirt folded in my pastel pink suitcase. Then the white tank under it. The floral print wrap dress. “It’s cute.”
“Thank you.”
“But you need more for your plan.”
“My plan is to have fun.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.” Fun is already a big ask. There are only two things that really help me let go: books and music.
I’ve got reading all night, by myself covered.
I’m even good on rocking out at a concert. Or practicing salsa at a dance studio.
But hitting a club, drinking just enough, finding an attractive stranger—
That’s way outside my comfort zone.
Whereas Holden—
He has that devil-may-care smile. The easy laugh. The gorgeous green eyes.
Okay, maybe I see him with rose-covered glasses. I’m not ashamed to admit I have a crush. At least, not to myself.
It feels good, holding onto that. Closing my eyes and letting desire flow through me.
It’s a different kind of bliss than reading, dancing, listening to music.
Bigger, brighter, deeper.
He does know how to have a good time. And, more, he knows how to set me at ease, so I have a good time.
Somehow, he always knows exactly how much I can handle.
Everything is less scary when he’s around. Even wearing a tiny bikini.
I can handle this pastel pink string bikini. I can handle feeling sexy.