Page 55 of Surviving Love
“That’s the opposite of what I want. I’m trying to tell you what happened is no big deal. We had a scratch, and we itched it. So what?”
“Well, I find it awkward now.”
“I gathered that. How do we move past it?”
“I don’t know.”
He glanced up at the sky, a muscle jerking in his cheek. “There’s more rain coming. We can’t leave yet, so we need to find a way to cohabitate.”
“I know.”
“What is it about what happened that has you so upset?”
I hesitated but then pointed toward the shelter. “I’m not like that. I don’t just… you know… with strangers.”
He gave a weak smile. “You’re living your life, right? You’re discovering who the new you is.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want the new me to be a slut.”
“You’re not a slut because you enjoy sex. Jesus, Mason.” He raked a hand through his sopping wet hair. “We got turned on, and we went with it. It won’t happen again. It’s no big deal.”
I sighed and kicked at some wet leaves.
“Come back inside. I’ll behave,” he said quietly. “I don’t want your asthma to flare up just because I screwed up.”
“You didn’t do anything worse than me.”
“I initiated it.”
“And I took you up on it.”
He laughed. “Okay, we’re both to blame. Either way, I really don’t want your asthma to come back.”
I watched him uneasily.
“Come on.” His voice was coaxing. “I even fixed breakfast.”
“You what?”
He grinned. “I have water and coconuts waiting.”
“Really?” My mouth watered at the idea of eating something.
“I’m starving, and I assumed you must be too.”
“I am starving.”
He gestured toward the shelter with his head. “Then let’s go eat.”
I studied him, amazed he was bothering with me at all. Raindrops clung to his long dark lashes and the end of his nose, but he didn’t seem to care. He could easily have just gone back in the shelter and left me out here to sulk. Yet, there he stood, trying to cajole me into going back inside.
“I’ll take pity on you since apparently you aren’t going to leave me out here alone.” I sighed and moved toward the shelter. I climbed inside, and he followed, closing the door behind us.
Sure enough, he’d cut open two coconuts. He’d saved the coconut water in one half of the shell, and as I gulped that liquid, he dug out chunks of the white drupe with the machete.
“I never thought I’d crave rice,” I said, chewing on a piece of coconut. “Just yesterday I was cursing the fact that was all we had to eat.”
He smiled. “Right? And yet, I’d give my right arm for a bowl of warm steaming rice right about now.” He grimaced. “Sorry. That was a bad example.”
