He was still keeping up, and now, I was starting to sweat. My lungs burned, but I ran faster. I didn't need Penn in my life. I knew how to be alone, and I preferred it that way. So, I ran to escape him, and the feelings I had decided to shut off.
"What is this, a race?" Penn gasped.
"If it was, you'd be the loser," I snapped and stretched into a sprint.
"Damn it." Penn charged after me, and I felt his fingers grab my tank top.
He pulled me to the side, and my momentum swung me all the way around to crash into his arms. We fell to the sand. I shoved him away from me, but couldn't get my footing in the loose sand. As he struggled to stop me and I struggled to get up, we both started laughing. The battle turned into wrestling, and when I ended up on top, Penn took my face with both hands and kissed me.
I should have slapped him, or clubbed him with some nearby driftwood, but my body ignored me. I could still feel the smile on his lips, the challenge met with equal force. We were evenly matched, and it was delicious.
Too bad Penn was too egotistical to notice, I thought. I had the sinking feeling it would take a huge scene to make him notice I was in love with him. The thought revved up my heart faster than our sprint through the deep sand.
I pushed him down in the sand and got up. "That doesn't mean you won the race," I said and started jogging back.
Penn scrambled to brush the sand off and match me stride for stride again. "So, what does it mean?"
I blew out a labored breath. "It means that I'm staying, but only for a few more days."
We climbed the steps back to his beach house. I could barely lift my feet, not from the run, but from the realization that it really did matter what Penn thought of me. I wanted him to love me, and the only reason for that was because I loved
him. It felt like a fatal diagnosis. I wondered how many days I could take before my heart couldn't take anymore.
"Will you be here tomorrow night?" Penn asked as he opened the sliding door for me.
"Yeah, I guess," I muttered.
Penn caught my wrist and cleared his throat. "Speaking of our business deal, there is a charity ball at the golf club tomorrow night. My parents are going, part of their engagement celebration. I'd like you to come with me."
I gaped. "A formal event? Tomorrow night? I don't have a dress."
Penn rolled his eyes. "That would be your first thought. Don't worry. I have a tailor coming to fit me with a new tuxedo. I'm sure he can bring along some choices for you."
"Penn, that's asking a lot," I stammered.
"What if they are all designer labels? You can have your pick." Penn dropped my wrist.
I slammed the sliding glass door behind me. "I told you I would hold up my end of the deal. Now, how about you honor yours. You told me I would have a place to stay rent free, where I wouldn't be bothered."
I shoved past him and headed for the guest room. The steam and heat of the shower had finally unlocked the knots in my shoulders, but not the confusing tangle in my heart. So, when there was a knock on the door, I tensed up again.
"What now?" I snapped.
No one responded. I cranked off the shower spray, wrapped a towel around myself, and stalked into the guest room. No one was there, except three, beautiful dresses hanging over the doors of the antique wardrobe. One was a Ralph Lauren dream in sleek ivory. The next was a bold pattern from Vera Wang.
"No contest," I whispered as I moved to stand in front of the third dress.
The classic, Yves Saint Laurent dress was in deep, midnight blue. The tight-fitting corset featured a sweetheart neckline and a satin band before the full skirt billowed to the floor. I knew it was perfect, and I hoped with every fiber of my being that it would knock Penn on his sorry ass.
#
I stopped at the bedroom door and opened it a crack to listen. Xavier had arrived, Alice was freshening up downstairs, and we were scheduled to leave for the ball at any minute.
I turned for the eight hundredth time and gazed at the beautiful dress. It hung untouched in its place on the wardrobe. The tailor had not needed to do any adjustments. The dress fit so perfectly that I didn't even need to wear anything under it, no push-up bra, nothing. But, still, I was wrapped in a robe and the dress was on a hanger.
I couldn't go. Penn already thought I was shallow and materialistic. There was no way I could enjoy the spectacular dress, navigate the opulence of a high society charity function, and prove to him that I was more like him than anything.
It was insane, and my hands reached out to the dress again, but I pulled back and stayed strong. What I really wanted from the evening was to spend time with Penn. The real Penn, not the Penn who was constantly harping on how dependent people were on images.