Page 32 of My Lucky Star
The freezing water stabbed my feet like a school of tiny knives, but it only came up to my knees. I held out my hand, gesturing for Cem to follow. “Come on!”
I expected him to maybe roll up his pant legs, but he took off his hoodie and T-shirt, then his slacks, folded them and placed them carefully on a small fern. That simple action made my heart squeeze.
He didn’t know how much the clothes had cost me. He didn’t even know I’d paid for them, so why did he care? Maybe he was meticulous with clothes but based on the way he’d cast his belongings across the hotel room, I doubted that.
Cem didn’t wade into the water. He leapt in. I wasn’t proud of where my gaze went as he stood before me in his boxer shorts.
“My eyes are up here.” Cem pointed at his face, split by a cheeky grin.
I splashed him with as much water as I could scoop with two hands. My sudden move caught him off guard and the freezing water landed squarely on his crotch. A surprisingly high shriek escaped his throat, and I doubled over in a fit of giggles. That fleeting moment was worth everything that came after, or so I thought.
He retaliated immediately, somehow drenching me with a bucket load without an actual bucket. Dear God, it was cold! I shivered inside out, but no way was I backing down.
I ladled more water, aiming higher. Seeing his handsome face dripping wet satisfied my soul. He still looked gorgeous, but definitely less polished.
The murderous growl rising from him made the tiny hairs on my neck stand up. “If anyone asks, you were begging for this.”
He edged closer, his resonant voice sending tremors down my spine. Even the bite of the icy water couldn’t compete with the effect.
I took a wobbly step backwards, my chest shaking with suppressed laughter, my joy mixing with dread as he approached me, arms out, chest wide. The rumble of the waterfall grew louder as we neared it.
I glanced over my shoulder, scanning for an escape, a way to avoid the high-pressure icy shower, but I was too slow. I also underestimated his willingness to dive in. Within two seconds, Cem trapped me in his arms and pushed us under the waterfall. Thank goodness this was not Niagara. Still, the pressure whipped the hat off my head and hit my neck like a massaging shower head on steroids. The chilly water filled my ears, eyes, and mouth, but before I knew it, we were out, coughing, and laughing.
“That was colder than I thought!” Cem sputtered, wiping his eyebrows.
I fished my poor hat from the water. It must have been made of paper, since it now resembled a pile of wet pulp.
“Should we take more photos looking like drowned river rats?” I asked, peeling strands of soaking wet hair off my face.
I’d meant it as a joke, but as we emerged from the water, he fetched his phone and pulled me against himself, immortalizing our soaked clothes, dripping hair and glistening smiles. I pressed my ear against his ribcage, soaking in his warmth. The evening sun heated my back, trapping me between layers of hot and cold. There was no middle ground. I felt like my soul had been jump-started.
Cem pressed a kiss on my forehead, wrapping his arms around my shivering body. I inhaled his closeness, his familiar scent mixed with earth and sunshine. It took me a few beats to realize he was no longer taking photos. I felt his hands pressing against my lower back, rubbing the cold and clammy skin under my wet dress.
Part of me wanted to stay right there, pretending I hadn’t noticed we’d slipped from taking photos to embracing each other for no good reason. But I couldn’t.
I reluctantly lifted my chin. “Has it been half an hour? Should we go back?”
Cem took a step back, a little flustered. “I was just warming you up.” As soon as his hands left my skin, I missed them so much I ached.
Not good. Not good at all.
He picked up his clothes from the rock. A safe distance away, they were still dry.
“I’m so jealous.” I sighed, violently shaking from the cold. I positioned myself in full sun, hoping my dress would dry quickly. I also hoped the light-yellow fabric hadn’t become completely see-through.
“Take this.” He handed me his hoodie.
Grateful, and shaking from the cold, I pulled it on. Nothing had ever felt so good. Or smelled so good.
Cem glanced at his wet boxer shorts. “Do you mind if I...”
He proceeded to pull off his underwear and I promptly turned around. “Sorry. Go ahead.”
I waited until he told me to turn around.
“Ready to go?” Cem gestured at the path, now dressed up, holding a wet pair of boxers.
As soon as he turned around, I inhaled the blessed piece of clothing that stood between myself and hypothermia. What were those spices? Cinnamon? Clove? Sniffing the traces of Cem stored in the fabric of his hoodie, watching his muscled frame traipse ahead of me in the T-shirt and grey slacks I’d chosen, I felt a little less sorry for my bank account. Maybe I’d get my money’s worth.
