Page 45 of Acting Merry
And when he and I catch eyes, and his linger on me for a second longer than I expect…it’s all I can do to keep from running back to the porch for a gulp of icy air.
Dinner gets cleaned up, and everyone goes to change into their swimsuits. While Cole’s in the bathroom, I pull out my phone and open Instagram to distract myself.
I go still.
The first picture that pops up is of Cole and me, his lips pressed to my cheek.
I remember taking the picture, obviously, but it’s weird seeing it. Seeingus.
We look so happy—at least I do. It’s harder to tell with him, since his face is turned and his mouth is…otherwise engaged. There are a lot of likes and a number of comments—none from anyone whose handle is obviously Bree, though.
I swipe to get a different image in my brain and a better hold on myself. It’s been all of twenty-four hours since we arrived, and I’ve basically turned into Bree. Next thing you know, I’ll be following Cole home and keeping my thermostat on 85.
The door opens, and he comes out of the bathroom, a swimsuit on and his torso bare. The evidencethat his job involves the regular use of power tools and carrying heavy loads is written all over his chest and abs.
“Your turn,” he says, throwing a towel over his shoulder.
“I’ll meet you out there,” I say.
“Nah. I’ll wait.”
“Go save us a spot,” I argue. “Eight people will be a tight fit in that hot tub, and I want a spot by the jets.”
Seeing my point, he grabs another towel for me and leaves the room.
I look at the swimsuit I brought, imagining it on these pasty winter legs and a stomach full of dinner.
I’m not particularly thrilled with my figure at this stage of my life, but I live in that thrilling and confusing space of simultaneous dissatisfaction with my body and determination to defiantly exist in it despite that. I also know that any man whose feelings for me—even the fake kind—are poorly affected by how I look in a swimsuit isn’t worth my energy.
So, I put it on and don’t let myself spend more than ten seconds looking in the mirror before heading out to join the others. I stop in front of the back door.
Apparently, I sent Cole prematurely. It’s just Megan, Brady, and him there. They’re chatting while Brady’s hand plays with the braid hanging over Meg’s shoulder.
I feel a little sting in my chest. It’s not even because I want him.
It’s because I wantthat. The easy, cozy comfort of being with someone who wants and accepts you.
“You coming out?” Hannah asks, gripping the towel around her waist with one hand while she opens the door with her other.
“Yep.”
The air bites every inch of exposed skin, and I scramble into the hot tub. Cole helps me with a hand on my back and an amused smile.
“Better?” he asks as I slink down into the water.
“The best,” I say, letting my eyes shut with warm relief.
Soon, the hot tub is nearly overflowing thanks to the sheer number of bodies in it. There’s barely any space between couples, and Brady pulls a laughing Megan onto his lap as a way to make space. Allegedly.
He whispers something in her ear, and she laughs some more.
I feel Cole’s arm slip around my shoulder, and I look up at him.
By the way he’s looking at me, I know he saw me watching them.
I smile and interlace my fingers with his, hoping it’s enough to reassure him I’m fine. If Cole has a two-date policy, I can only imagine how he’d feel if he knew what sort of thoughts were filtering through my head about him. Aboutus.
I need the weather to change…like now. I need it to be 55 degrees and sunny so we can get the heck out of Dodge, and I can…clean some nasty teeth or something. It’s hard to feel swept off your feet when you’re wrist deep in someone’s mouth, cleaning teeth that have never seen a string of dental floss.
