Page 48 of The Other Side of Paradise
“You look pretty like this, too, though.”
“Um. Thanks. You too. I mean, not in my uniform, that’s… well, it would probably be the wrong size for you. I mean, your outfit, well, it’s just… cute.”
She winked. “Flirting the second my parents are out of the room.”
Oh, god. My mouth was dry. “Well, better than the second earlier.”
She laughed, and my stomach dropped when she adjusted the collar on my shirt. “They could deal with it,” she said, and she let her fingers linger on the corner of my collar, hovering there, before—I about got a heart attack when she tugged on it, pulling me lightly towards her. “Shall we get you back to your spot on the desk?”
“I… guess. This was more fun than the usual work though. Maybe you can request private services more often.”
She smiled wider, raising her eyebrows. “I didn’t think this was that kind of resort.”
What the fuck was I doing? Practicing flirting. Was thispractice?Jesus. “We can make special exceptions for special guests.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said with a wink, stepping back, leaving me reeling as she did.
Right. Yeah. Keep it in mind. So would I. Every night.
We walked back to the lobby, making conversation as if she hadn’t just been standing two inches away talking in a low, sultry voice aboutprivate services, and I about collapsed behind the front desk once she left to get back to her room. And of course that was the state Gavin found me in, and he watched delightedly as I fielded a conversation with two of the guests while I tried to keep it cool, but Gavin knew me too well to buy that act, and he laughed the second they were gone.
“Good massage?” he said, and I groaned, a hand to my forehead.
“She wants to help me get a hookup.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Congrats.”
“Not with her. She’s straight. Which means she was all like…oh, so that means it’s not weird if you practice flirting with me.”
“Practice flirting,” he repeated. “Isn’t that just flirting?”
“That’s certainly what it feels like, Gavin. Can I take a break? A long one. Specifically the rest of eternity. I’m going to go drown myself in the pool.”
“I’ve got you scheduled for the top of the hour, but I was only able to put you down for thirty minutes.”
“Dammit. It was worth asking.”
The rest of the hour was great, though, because it was quiet at the desk, and Stella was texting me asking about my paintings again, and I got to send her some pictures I’d taken of them, and I felt like I was the best painter since da Vinci when she gushed praise about them. Not just generic praise, either—she clearly had a good eye and picked up on the details, zeroing in on everything I’d put extra care into and talking about the color harmonies, and I was all bubbly and floaty when I got out to the pool bar for my break to find Brooklyn there, slotting in across from her.
“Hey, Brooklyn,” I said cheerfully. “How’s stuff with you and Ryan?”
She smiled, and she leaned over the bar, arms folded, and she swept my feet out from under me with, “You’re in a good mood. Stella came around and you got to flirt with your hopeless straight crush?”
I thought I might have died on the spot. “What—do you—huh? Who?” I blurted, voice reedy. “Stella? What do you, uh… what?”
“So, that’s your type, huh?” she laughed. “You did say you likedpretty girls.Guess it makes sense you’d go for someone super femme like her.”
“I’m not—uh.” Jesus Christ, I wasn’t getting out of this. I slumped over the bar. “Kill me.”
“Could always go in the back,” she said, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder towards the back of the bar. “Laura’s cleaningin a hurry, which means she’s probably knocking over shelves, throwing glass bottles…”
I groaned. She patted my shoulder.
“So, taking off from your resolution to get a hookup, I’m guessing? I don’t think you’re the type to happily distract yourself with another girl when you can’t have the one you want…”
“It’s not like it’s a big serious crush or anything,” I lied, looking away. “She’s just pretty. And I guess she’s my type. I don’t know.”
Nobody believed that. Least of all Brooklyn. She settled for smiling at me, and I fussed with my hands on the bar.
