Page 36 of Accidentally Falling For My Best Friend
18
PARKER
October
Almost eighteen hours later, we’ve landed in Bora Bora for the first time. We had a four-and-a-half-hour flight from O’Hare to LAX, spent a couple of hours there before an eight-hour flight to Tahiti, then a few more hours waiting around for our hour-long flight to Bora Bora. But, we weren’t done there, because that single runway airport required a boat transfer to actually get to the island.
I’m exhausted.
Apparently, the amount of effort it takes to get here is agoodthing, and makes it a more “exclusive” experience, or whatever rich celebrities and influencers care about. All I know is that I would have really enjoyed a direct flight. All of the getting on and off planes, and worrying about making all of the connections, meant that I didn’t sleep at all.
Not that I’m ever really able to sleep on a plane. Our longest flight was overnight, and did have the little business-class sleeping pods that lay down, so Oakley was out for most of it, but I’m never able to relax enough to actually sleep. I worked for abit, but when I was too tired for actual work I switched to a sudoku book. Our flight was so long that I finished the entire thing.
I’m dragging my suitcase behind me, feeling like a complete zombie, but Oak is practically skipping toward the resort entrance when we finally arrive. It’s a complete construction zone, and we definitely don’tneedto be here, but for the past few months, Oakley has been complaining about not being able to visualize things because he needs to see it in person to be able to make decisions.
After the confusing mutual jerk-off session last month, I was looking for a way to distract him, to give him something other than our shared orgasms to focus on around me, so I asked his assistant to rearrange his schedule and book our tickets. This was the soonest that we could both come and they could accommodate us being here, but he’s been so excited planning everything that I do feel like things are back to normal between us.
What will eventually become a luxury resort is currently a whole lot of empty beach. They’ve finished taking down all of the old structures, and started the framing on the new over-water villas. New construction began with the main building and the few beach villas, so those parts actually look like a hotel, at least.
When we told the main contractor that we wanted to visit, they explained that none of the rooms would be ready yet, but Oakley refused to stay at a competitor’s resort. They rushed to finish one of the beachside villas enough that we could stay there. Oakley probably would have slept on the sand if it meant he got to visit, though, and I’m a sucker who wanted to make him happy, so here we are.
There’s a man in a hard hat waiting to greet us at the entrance to the main building. “La Orana, hello and welcome, I’m Arii. We’ve spoken over the phone,” he says with a warm smile. I attempt my own smile and mumble back the traditional greetingas best I can manage with the level of exhaustion I’m working with. Oak is much more enthusiastic with his own response.
“I’ll show you to the only functioning room. As I explained over the phone, it’s not fully set-up yet. We’ll bring in the decorators after the construction is finished, so for now, you’ll have a very minimalist layout. I apologize that we couldn’t accommodate more in the time given,” he says, leading us down a wooden pathway that trails beyond the main building toward the beach.
“I’m sure it will be better than staying at any of our competitor’s resorts,” Oak replies with a huge smile. I’m less certain of that, though.
The villa is situated in a small alcove surrounded by tropical trees on the edge of the beach, giving the illusion of being in our own private oasis, rather than staying in a hotel. It’s not small, but most of the space is obviously designed to maximize the ocean views with large windows revealing a very open-concept layout.
From what I can see, I don’t think there’s more than one bedroom.Did Oak realize that when he agreed for us to stay here?It’s not like we’ve never shared a bed before, but since we moved in together in college, there hasn't really been a need, so it’s been over ten years.
Arii lets us into the villa, leaving the key on the dining table before pointing out some of the features that will eventually be in the space. As I assumed outside, it’s all one large room. The only door leads to a luxurious bathroom with waterfall showers and a soaking tub big enough for two set in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window. Arii assures us that the water does work,thank fuck,and then excuses himself to go back to work on another part of the property.
“This place is amazing!” Oak declares as he hurries around the room, taking it all in.
“I’m sure I’ll enjoy it more once I’ve slept,” I mumble. I put my suitcase on the floor next to the dresser and hurryto move my clothes into it. I unpack my insulin, placing the small glass vial into the fridge, grateful that it’s already working, before I grab sleep shorts, and turn to the bathroom. “I need to shower all of the plane off me and then probably sleep for a day.”
“Well, I slept great on the second plane, so I think I’m going to go check out the rest of the property,” he responds, already headed for the door.
“Oak?” I call out before he can actually leave.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget this is a construction zone. You can’t just wander around by yourself,” I warn.
“Ugh,” he groans, throwing his head back. “Fine. I’ll go to the beach if I can’t find a worker to show me around,” he agrees with an eye roll in my direction, but he’s smiling the whole time.
“You probably shouldn’t swim in the ocean by yourself either,” I remind him.
“Aww, are you worried about me, Daddy?” he asks in an over-the-top teasing tone, batting his eyelashes up at me in the bratty way that he likes to taunt me with.
Usually, I laugh it off and tease him back, but right now I’m trying very hard to ignore the lust pooling in my gut, not at the Daddy comment, but just everything he does seems to do it for me now, even his taunting. The instinct to play into his comment, to be a little firmer than I have in the past, maybe put him in his place and show him just how much I care about him is surprisingly strong. I’m unsuccessfully trying to ignore the fantasies my mind is not-so-helpfully supplying, of crowding him into the door he’s yet to open, backing him against it, using my size as an advantage to surround him so that he can’t leave. In my fantasy, he would keep taunting me, egging me on until I’m forced to kiss him to shut him up so that I don’t give into my desire to be more physical in other ways.
But picturing all of that is not helpful right now. I’msupposed to be ignoring sexual thoughts of my straight best friend so that we can continue on as normal. “I’m not your fucking Daddy, you brat. Obviously, I care about you,” I finally respond.
His smile falters for a moment, but I can’t read the meaning before it returns as big as ever. “Go shower and sleep. I’ll be okay,” he promises with a laugh. “How’s your blood sugar?”
“Normal, just like it was ten minutes ago,” I assure him.
