Confused, I remain frozen and mute. Murph likewise says nothing. His eyes rake down my towel-clad body to my toes, then rebound to my face. “You have a good conversation with yourself?” His devilish grin makes an appearance.
My blood moves like lava through my veins, burning and singeing everything in its path. I lift my head higher. “I did, thank you.”
He chuckles. “You always say you’ll talk it out in the shower.” He backs up a step and leans against the corner of the wall. “I didn’t realize you actually meant you talk to yourself.”
Panic grips my stomach, keeping it from flipping again, the traitorous thing. “What did you hear?”
“Garbly-gook,” he says. “I wasn’t eavesdropping.” His smile fades, and he turns around. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I heard the lock and thought someone was coming in.”
I take the quick steps into the bathroom and completely out of the line of sight of the bedroom. “It was just really steamy in here,” I call.
He says something that sounds like, “I bet,” but I’m not entirely sure. I quickly turban my hair, swipe on my night moisturizer and my deodorant, and step into my pajamas. I’m covered, but I feel a bit indecent when I return to the main room braless. I’m not exactly small-chested, and I glance down to see one of the buttons on my top gapes between my girls.
I quickly cover it and turn my back as I walk in front of the bed. Of course I have to sleep on the side furthest from the bathroom. I can’t really blame Murph either, because he let me choose.
I sit down on the mattress, my back to him, and press my eyes closed. Why can’t I just have the perfect pair of pajamas? Ones that fit me like a glove and make my best friend fall madly in love with me?
Being at war with oneself really is exhausting, and I sigh as I lay back against the pillows. There are more than before, and I look over to Murph. “They brought the pillows.”
“When you’d barely turned the water on.” His grin reminds me of home, and I have no idea what that means. I’d like to see it every day after work? “This honeymoon suite has its perks.”
I smile too, and the gesture feels easy and settled on my face. Finally. “What other perks have you found?”
He lifts his Diet Pepsi. “Free drinks.” He drains the last of it, smacks his lips, and plunks the can down on his nightstand. “So, tomorrow. What do you want to do? Sleep in and relax? Find a late breakfast whenever? Chill on the beach or by the pool? Or should we see if we can jump on an adventure last-minute?”
I look back to the TV, which he’s put on a soccer match being narrated in Spanish. “Well, seeing as how my definition of ‘outdoorsy’ is lathering up in sunscreen and ordering frozen drinks from the comfort of the shade, I think I need twenty-four hour notice of any…adventures.” I cut him another grin, and he rewards me with a chuckle.
“I figured,” he says.
“We always do Lazy Beach Day the day following Travel Day,” I say.
“We do.”
We fall into comfortable silence, and it takes me a good half-minute to work up the courage to look over to him. His eyes have closed, and his chest rises and falls in a steady, even rhythm. “Two breaths,” I mutter. “Unbelievable.” It’ll probably take me an hour to wind down and fall asleep with Murph in the bed with me, and he’s out already. On top of the comforter, too.
Annoying.
“I’m still awake,” he says as if he heard my thoughts out loud. I didn’t say them, did I?
“You can fall asleep in two breaths, though,” I point out as I slide off the bed. “At least get under the blanket first. Then you can fall asleep whenever you want.”
He opens his eyes, and they’re still just as vibrant and blue as before. He looks wiped out, and I peel back the covers. “Come on, Murph. I won’t even build a pillow wall this time.” I flash him a grin, hoping he hears the teasing quality of my voice.
He groans as he gets to his feet. “I didn’t fill out a questionnaire either.” He pulls back the sheet and blanket on his side of the bed. There are easily ten pillows on the bed now, so I could make that wall between us. I don’t want to. “Did you need to see my driver’s license? Call my boss?”
“I don’t see what good that would do,” I quip back at him. “You’re the boss now.” He’d been employed on our first trip, and I had called his boss to make sure I wasn’t going to be dismembered over the Pacific. A woman has to be careful these days.
“I give out great character recommendations.” He grins and peels off his shirt. I’m struck dumb at all the muscles in his chest and abs and shoulders and chest. Did I mention his abs?
It’s apparently sunny more often than I thought in Superior too, because he’s sporting a tan in mid-winter.
“Is this okay?” he asks. “I usually just sleep in…” He trails off, his hands on the waistband of his shorts. “You know what? I’m gonna leave the shorts on.”
I see the ribbed band of his boxers, my internal question about what kind of underwear he prefers suddenly answered. Why I wanted to know is beyond me.
Murph gets back in bed and turns away from me. The view from the back is just as glorious as from the front, because the man has shoulders any woman would salivate over. You’re not just any woman, I tell myself sternly. You’re his best friend.
Then I get in bed and give him my back too. My knees hang over the edge of the mattress, only because I don’t trust myself not to curl into him and let him hold me all night long.
The silence presses down on me, suffocating like a wet, hot blanket. I roll onto my back with nary a sound and look up to the ceiling. My lamp is still on. The ceiling fan goes round, round, round.
This is the definition of torture. Silence, in a room with someone you’ve never had any silence with. At least not the uncomfortable kind.
I roll again, this time to snap off the lamp. We’re immediately plunged into darkness, and it takes my eyes several moments to adjust enough to see the crack in the drapes that Murph didn’t pull all the way closed. A soft light emanates from the direction of the bathroom too, washing over me from behind.
Where Murph is.
I reach to the floor and pick up an extra pillow, bringing it to my chest and hugging it tightly.
“You can’t start dating,” I say into the silence. Murph doesn’t answer right away, and it’s definitely been longer than two breaths.
Maybe he’s asleep already. For some reason, my heartbeat falls to my knees and then races back into place.
“If you do, then we won’t be able to be friends anymore.” It’s so much easier to talk in the dark, when no one can see me. When Logan can’t see me.
Chapter Six
Logan
My pulse skitters through my body. Not really a beat, and not really a thump. It starts out that way, and then scatters, the way the pellets do in a shotgun.
I’m sure Sloane thinks I’m asleep, but I’m as far from that as a person can get. I shouldn’t say anything. So I have no idea why my mouth opens, and my voice asks, “Why wouldn’t we be able to be friends?”