The Beach

I cross mine beneath the table.

“The idea of a pair of long legs, sliding apart…”

NOAH.

I look away quickly, trying to hide my reaction to his response. I’m not used to this side of him. It’s sexy and nerve-racking all at once.

“Is it my turn yet?” he asks, leaning in toward me.

“I haven’t been counting,” I admit. “Did I reach my limit already?”

“No, but still…I’d like to go now.” When I don’t object, he continues, “Tell me, what’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?”

My brows shoot up. “Spontaneous?”

I try hard to think. I’ve always been a good girl. Good grades, good attitude. I’m an overachiever, a teacher’s pet. Spontaneity and I don’t really go hand in hand.

“Does booking this trip count?” I ask with a weak smile.

He frowns. “This was planned almost a year ago.”

My shoulders sag. “Well it felt spontaneous at the time.”

“Okay. Next question: have you ever had sex on the first date?”

I laugh in shock. “You can’t ask that!”

“Why not?”

“I asked you about your favorite book!”

“It’s not my fault you chose boring questions.”

I narrow my eyes teasingly. “I resent that.”

“Answer the question.”

The waiter arrives then, dropping off our salads, and I use his presence to build my resolve. I don’t want to chicken out. I’m not a prude. If he’s curious, I’ll tell him.

“No, I haven’t,” I say when we’re left alone again.

I pick up my fork, excited by the array of fresh ingredients on my plate: jicama, mango, and cilantro, to name a few.

“All right, if you could be any animal, what would it be?”

I laugh, confused about how we went from sex on the first date to a question about animals.

I peer up at him from beneath my brows. “Are you going easy on me now?”

“Maybe. I’m just not sure you want to play the way I want to.”

I think over his words for a moment, surprised that they raise my hackles. I don’t need to be handled with kid gloves just because I’m Natalie’s friend.

“Ask me whatever you want to ask, Noah. I’m game.” I lean forward. “In fact, I’ll take a turn. Tell me, have you ever had a sexy dream?”

He laughs. “Who hasn’t?”

“About me?”

His smile dies on his lips and there’s a long, agonizing silence as he mulls the question over.

“Are you sure you want to ask that?”

“Now who doesn’t want to play the game?” I ask with a cocky little smile as I fork a bite of salad into my mouth.

“Yes,” he says confidently as he watches me chew. “I’ve had plenty of dirty dreams about you.”

Dirty dreams.

I nearly gulp.

“Now answer this: were you happy to find out we’d be alone here in Mexico?” he asks.

Even though my question was more scandalous, his feels more intimate. Dreams can be written off—unconscious thoughts don’t necessarily mean anything—but if I reveal that I was happy to discover it’d be just us on this vacation, that’s as significant as admitting my entire schoolgirl crush on him once and for all.

It’s not something I can easily take back once it’s out there, and even though it feels tempting to give in to the moment here in Mexico, I can’t help but wonder how things will settle when we get back to Boston. How will we face each other again once the cat’s out of the bag?

Still, I don’t want to back down completely, so I circumvent the real answer and settle on a reply that’s less revolutionary.

“I was intrigued.”

“How?” he asks, leaning back and propping his elbows on the arms of his chair. It’s a confident pose, almost like he’s not currently asking me to bare my heart for him.

“Intrigued to see how it would go with the two of us left alone.”

“We’ve been alone before.”

Believe me, I know. I have every instance catalogued in my mind.

I swallow and look away. “Sure—briefly.”

He hums in thought. “You seem scared right now.”

“Of you?” My tone implies it’s an insane insinuation.

“Of us.”

Four

As promised, the restaurant transitions to more of a club atmosphere once our entrees are cleared and Noah is paying the check. My offer to pay half the bill is refused, so I sit back and watch the live band start to play as tables get pushed to the side. Couples rise up from their seats and take to the sandy dance floor, moving slowly and sensually, much more so than I’m used to seeing in the States. It’s like no one cares that they’re in public. Their only concern is the person in their arms. There’s something to be admired about that.

Noah and I haven’t talked much since we stopped playing our game. I refused to admit that I was scared of us, and I refused to delve deeper into what he meant by the insinuation. I think he took the hint and backed off, but now I feel bad.