Page 55 of Revival

I sit in broody silence. An elbow keeps digging into my side. After the sixth jab, I glance in her direction, only to find her thumbs typing furiously over her phone screen.

“Sibling check-in?” I try to smirk, but it falls flat with my irritation.

Her head remains down, phone in her face.

“Cort?”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“One sec,” she mutters.

I run a hand over my jaw. The growth pricks my palm. I should have shaved this morning, but someone wanted to join me in the shower enclosure, and we lost track of time. Closing my eyes, I hold the image of our morning well spent, using the memory to distract myself.

It only works for so long before that distraction begins to get my dick’s attention. Shifting only does so much to make spare room in my shorts.

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if it was your siblings—”

She cuts me off with a frustrated sigh, resuming whatever conversation is taking place on her phone.

“Everything okay?” I ask, concern rising.

“Just give me a second,” she says. The force of her exhale blows a thick strand of hair off her face. “Sorry. I just need a minute.”

I give her a minute. Two. Five. Soon enough, we’re pulling up to the snorkeling company, and she still hasn’t said a word.

“We’re here.”

“If only he’d shut up, I could put my phone away.”

“Who are you talking to that doesn’t know you’re on vacation?”

We follow the other passengers out of the van.

“Oh, he knows I’m on vacation. That’s precisely why he’s texting me.”

I sharply stop walking, and Cortney runs into my back. “Geez, Spence. Keep moving, will you?”

Her teasing tone mixed with my nerves work like an ignition spark and a gas valve. One-click too many, and those built-up emotions ignite.

She squeaks as I grasp her wrist and pull her to the other side of the van away from prying eyes.

“Who’s texting you?” The direct question comes out like a demand.

“Sebastian.”

“Why the fuck are you responding to that asshole?”

Cortney’s phone vibrates in her hand, drawing her gaze back to the flashing screen. “He suddenly wants to apologize. I thought I could tell him he has no chance, but he’s not having it.”

“Stop responding.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“No, I don’t.” Plucking her phone from her fingertips, I move into her space. “But you’re on your dream vacation, wearing a sexy bikini, about to get on a boat so that you can get into the ocean and swim with the fish. I don’t know why you’d want to spoil all that by giving him a second of your time.”

Our chests brush together as she inhales deeply.

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