Shy Girl

by Katie Cross

  “Your other reasons don’t matter. I’m sorry, Dagny. That was the best kiss I’ve ever had, and I chickened out and left you alone here because I think I’m falling for you. I think I’m feeling something I haven’t felt . . . maybe ever . . . and I don’t really know what to do next.”

  My breath failed completely.

  I stared at him as all the blood drained from my face. The casual atmosphere, the easily spoken words. How was this a real scenario? He’d told me how he felt like it was so simple. Like I hadn’t been harboring my true emotions for years. Like I hadn’t dreamed this out time and time again in every different scenario, circumstance, and outfit. He let it roll off his tongue like the truth was so . . .

  . . . easy.

  A thousand thoughts spiraled through my head in response to his words, but I could only find the strength to form one of them.

  “Wh-why?”

  He laughed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Under his blanket, his legs tightened as he pushed them into a stretch.

  “Dagny,” he chuckled through a half yawn. “You blind, amazing, completely unaware woman. If you saw in yourself what I see in you, you’d never ask me that.”

  “H-how is this r-real?”

  At first, I didn’t realize I’d said it out loud until he turned back onto his side, propped his head into his hand, and stared at me with a questioning gaze.

  “What do you mean?”

  My heart leapt into my throat. Was it my turn to be honest now? He’d laid it out there so casually. Perhaps it was my place to do the same.

  But how could I?

  Jayson had always lived on the line between idiocy and danger. Dangled in the place where courage was a requirement to survive. I’d never put myself out there like that. So what did it cost him to admit he started to feel something for me? That a kiss was—for once in his life—more than just a kiss? Not as much as the years I’d packed into my infatuation with him. A few days of awareness was a drop against the ocean of adoration I’d given him.

  To admit that?

  To open that up?

  He’d probably be frightened if he knew how long I’d felt something for him and dreamed of his hand in mine. That sort of truth couldn’t come too soon, because whatever fragile bloom began would never finish. It was too much. The tidal wave of emotion I’d held back for him would swamp both of us.

  I swallowed back a nervous laugh. “Wow, J-j-jayson. I’m . . . I d-don’t know what to say.”

  He grinned lazily. “It’s a gift.”

  “Th-thank you. F-for telling m-me, I mean.”

  “You’re not going to do a whole we’re-just-friends, I-don’t-feel-that-way spiel, are you? Because there’s no way you would have kissed me back like that if there wasn’t something you felt.”

  He yawned again as he said it, one hand covering half his face, like he asked that sort of loaded question every day. Maybe he did. Hernandez had always seen the world so differently than me.

  If you only knew.

  “N-n-no,” I said quietly. “N-never that.”

  He sobered and lifted a heavy, warm hand to my face, where he stroked the edge of my jaw, then let the pad of his thumb trail to my lip. I watched his wrist, too afraid to meet his eyes. He’d see everything written in my gaze. There would be nothing left for me to hide from him if he just saw my eyes now. But I wanted to pull his touch closer. To cling to him and beg him to stay, forever, because the realization of so many dreams was more than I could bear.

  “Tell me what to do next, Dagny,” he whispered, “so I don’t screw this up. I’m sort of new to this and I’m not very good at it. Tell me what you want the most?”

  My hand lifted and wrapped around his. He paused, thumb on my chin. I moved his palm so it cradled my cheek and tilted my head into it.

  “This,” I whispered, “is p-perfect.”

  Hernandez reached up with his other hand and pulled me into him. I slipped into his warm side and he tucked me under his arm, my head under his chin. The skin of his shoulder burned hot where my cheek rested on it. I hesitated, then let my hand rest on his chest. He played idly with my hair while I closed my eyes.

  “This,” he whispered, “is why.”

  Then he pressed a kiss into the top of my head and I melted all the way to my bones.

  16

  Jayson

  Dagny reminded me of a kitten.

  Warm, snuggly, but wary at every noise. Last night on the way back from dinner, she’d been panicked, even frightened. The fact that she ran away from me—or perhaps just the embarrassing situation of literally crashing into one of the richest couples in the country—only made the comparison stronger. She was easy to spook and ready to run, tail poofy and mouth hissing.

  Now, she purred, snuggled into my side and content. Whatever happened between our kiss and the end of the dinner when I found her asleep on her bedroom floor, I had no idea. But there was also a story deep inside of Dagny that I had a feeling was starting to play out.

  My burst of honesty had been selfish. Keeping that crap pent up made me a wild man, because life was too short to mess around with games. If she was interested, great. If not, no problem. I’d come into and out of enough relationships to know most of them just didn’t come together.

  But Dagny was something else altogether.

  Last night while I waited for her to come out and explain what was going on had been torture. Watching the door. Checking my watch. Wondering if I’d made a mistake in giving her some distance. Then I couldn't handle waiting anymore and I found her asleep on the floor. A single tear sparkled in the well of her eye.

  But had that tear been just about my ridiculous comment?

  I couldn’t discount my instincts, which told me that something else was happening here.

  Her fingers tapped gently on my chest, almost a song-like staccato, as we lay together in the quiet. The fact that she hadn’t run away from my honesty was a win. I’d expected her to friend-zone me and be awkward the rest of the time. What I hadn’t expected was a willing snuggle, and it felt like a chance. With Dagny, I had a feeling I’d have to play this carefully and slowly. Despite all the time we’d spent living around each other, I hardly knew her at all.

  The insecure tones of her question played back through my mind.

  Why?

  Why not? I should have countered, and then given her a list of all the reasons why I couldn’t stop thinking about her. A list of all the reasons I regretted my obvious blindness for the past how-many-years and why that wouldn’t be the case moving forward. Her wide eyes and slack lips had been enough of a reaction. No reason to push her too far now. Let her soak up what I said, think it over, then we’d talk about going home later. For now, I had a wedding to get through.

  Yet . . . cuddling her was way more my speed, so I’d soak it up for a few more minutes, then try to figure out how to make it happen again tonight. Maybe after some of those hot kisses like we had on the beach.

  As if she read my mind, Dagny lifted her head. “D-d-do you need to d-do stuff for Grady? C-can I help with anything?”

  She shifted, but I didn’t let go of the lock of hair that I toyed with between three fingers. A sly grin overtook me—I couldn’t help myself. Bastian and I had kept our secret under wraps for so long, there was almost no holding back now.

  “You can,” I said and stacked an arm behind my head. Her not-so-subtle glance at my bicep, and then quick jerk back to my face, wasn’t unnoticed. Would she pass out if I flexed? She looked ready now. The thought almost made me laugh, but I shoved it back. I could torture her later. It would be worth the wait.

  “Oh, n-no.” She straightened, head cocked to the side. “Y-you have s-something planned. I kn-now that face.”

  My grin stretched further. “What are you talking about?”

  “Wh-what are you doing t-to poor Grady?”

  “He has it coming.”

  “J-Jayson!”

  Laughing, I held up two hands in a show of
innocence. “Look, Grady tortured us in high school. It’s payback time.”

  “N-nothing to Helene!” she cried, finger jabbing my direction. “Don’t you d-dare m-mess with a bride on her w-wedding day!”

  “I’m not a monster.”

  Her expression was far too serious for such a beautiful morning, so I put an arm around her shoulders and curled her back into me. She didn’t protest, so I kept playing with her hair. This time, she ran a tentative finger along the edge of my rib. Even through my shirt, it sent lines of fire through me. In fact, it felt far more intimate than anything I'd experienced before. This quiet touch and gentle connection was far more powerful for me than it could be for her. In my world, physical touch often meant danger. Such a calm expression of it healed something hot inside me.

  “Wh-what are you s-sup-p-p-osed to do today?”

  “Mostly wrangling the other Merry Idiots and getting them places on time. Sounds easy, but it will be like herding cats.”

  She made an amused sound in her throat.

  “The wedding is at 5:00, on the beach near the hotel. Grady and I are meeting at 9:00 this morning to review a few things, then again at 11:00 with all the boys.” My lips twitched again. Oh, the anticipation of this day was almost too much. Grady would rue the day he ever decided to let us run amok with a little bit of power. “The bride’s luncheon with her girls starts at 11:00, and I think they’re doing spa stuff, or whatever. So we’re . . . we’re having a boys . . . lunch.”

  “Oh d-dear.”

  She had the right sentiment.

  “He’ll come back in one piece,” I said lightly. “I swear it.”

  “Sh-she will k-kill you if you m-mess up her wedding.”

  Although sweet, Helene had a tough streak in her, and I didn’t doubt Dagny’s prediction for a single second. I released her hair to trail my fingers up her arm, enjoying the silky feeling of her skin under mine. Goosebumps rose under my touch on the second pass.

  “Never,” I said. “The official see the bride moment is at 3:00, and then they’re doing pictures until 4:30, then the ceremony. Dinner is at 6:30, and we party all night.”

  Dagny tensed, but I wasn’t sure why. People, crowds, mingling. In general, I didn’t have her pegged as a girl that loved that sort of thing. But tonight would be different, because she wouldn’t leave my side. And I didn’t want to stop touching her, so if she was so easily distracted by my touch now, maybe tonight would be just fine.

  “S-sounds like a f-full day. How c-can I help?”

  “This is a perfect start. Most of it is me helping Grady. If you want to stay here, I can come back and get you.”

  “I’m here for whatever you need.”

  I tightened my hold on her for a moment, and she snuggled closer.

  “Thanks. How about you stay here and enjoy your day on the beach until it’s time for us to get together? I’ll come back for you after the see the bride thing is done and my part in the pictures is over. That’ll give you time to get ready and we can head to the ceremony together around 4:30.”

  She nodded. “G-good.”

  With my arms braced to hold my weight, I flipped her onto her back and rolled with her. Her breath caught and eyes dilated, but she didn’t protest. My fingers tangled in her hair as I studied her, noticing a very light smattering of freckles on her face for the first time. Her gaze dropped to my lips, then back to me. The rise and fall of her chest against mine sent a dizzying curl of heat through my stomach.

  “Can I kiss you again?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  When the soft pillow of her lips pressed into mine, I almost lost it. I scaled back my response, but couldn’t stop a low growl. Her hands came around my back as she tilted her head to deepen the kiss. With a sharp breath, I pulled away, then brushed the hair out of her face.

  “Touch is a dangerous part of my world,” I whispered with a soft kiss to her cheek. “I have to be careful of anyone touching me when I’m on duty, because I never know what it will mean. So your touch is like water to a dying man. Thank you.”

  Her expression softened.

  “And if I kiss you again,” I continued in a low growl, “I will not leave this bungalow for the rest of the day. My position as Best Man is the only reason I’m leaving you in this bed alone. I want you to know that.”

  With that, I pushed away and forced myself out of the bedroom before I frightened her with the raw intensity of what she made me feel.

  At 10:49 am, four DVD's in clear cases rubbed together as I extracted them out of my pocket and glanced at them. Digital copies waited on my computer—I doubted any of us even owned a DVD player—but there was no drama in emailing a file. This way, our childhood and idiotic teenage years would remain truly immortalized through physical and digital means.

  In the reflection off the top case, I could just make out my freshly-combed hair and shaved face. My face disappeared as I focused my gaze beyond the clear case and looked at the DVD.

  The C-tape.

  The stupid camcorder that Bastian found in his father's dinky garage had made us legendary. Not just because of the stunts that circulated on the tape, but the difficulty of finding a VHS. Those who were able to sneak into the library and the old VHS still had been lucky—because many tried, and that old man librarian didn't let anybody through.

  Rumors abounded about what stunts we included on the tape, because we couldn't tape all of them. Just the dumbest ones. A lot of the rumors were speculation, but most of it was truth, as dumb as that truth was.

  Whenever the Merry Idiots got a new idea, people tried to go with us to see the stunts or predict where we'd act next. For weeks, rumors would circulate until they died down, and we resurrected them with fresh ideas later. Because Vikram was both diabolical and popular in high school, he’d throw out ideas constantly, just to keep people waiting. Most of them never happened.

  A lot of the time, however, we kept our ideas between us and the tape. Now, the C-tape would see the light of day once again. I shoved all four DVD cases into my pocket and jabbed the elevator call button.

  A hand clapped my shoulder as I turned my thoughts away from the C-tape and back onto Dagny. The movement jarred me.

  “There's the Best Man!” a voice cried.

  I glanced back to see Anthony Dunkin. Alison, a few steps away, waved over her shoulder and headed to the other side of the lobby as if they'd just split apart. Reputedly, the bride and bridesmaids were supposed to meet there for pedicures before their luncheon.

  “Morning, sir,” I said.

  Although I didn't know him well, Anthony Dunkin had the air of someone that commanded respect, so I slipped into my best behavior voice. The one that even abuela received, except I feared her more than the wealthiest man in Texas.

  His nose wrinkled, but he had an amiable smile. “Please, don't call me sir. Sounds too much like my grandfather, and I'm certainly not there yet.”

  “Of course.”

  His tone turned musing. “How are you these days, Hernandez?”

  “Good.”

  He wore a freshly-pressed white shirt and tie with swim trunks underneath that made me wonder if he'd just come out of a business meeting online. A line remained between his eyebrows, as if he were thinking so hard about something it couldn't go away now. Despite his distracted air, he gave me a warm smile as we waited together. He loosened the tie as we stood there, giving him a rumpled appearance.

  “Are you ready for tonight?” I asked. “I imagine it's no easy thing watching your daughter get married.”

  Anthony blew out a long breath. “Is any father ready to give up his only daughter? No, I imagine I was never ready for this day.”

  I laughed quietly. “I imagine not.”

  “Grady is a wonderful man, at least. I don't think I would give her up to anyone less worthy.”

  “I agree.”

  A soft, ocean breeze drifted in from an open window not far from the elevator where we waited. The number glowed
a bright red 14 now. Upstairs, Grady and the boys waited for me. I was almost late on purpose—I wanted to make sure all of them were there before I arrived. Because once the C-tape was available to all of us again, I wouldn't have the patience to wait.

  None of us had seen it in the years that had passed since high school graduation. We'd watched it one last time the night we graduated, then I'd tucked it away until a few weeks ago. Now, I couldn't wait to watch it. To feel the thrill of adventure, the sting of pain, and the swelling of pride.

  “So,” Anthony said and drew me back. “That girl you brought with you. Dagny Taylor is her name?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Lovely woman. I hope you're keeping her close.”

  “Very, sir.”

  “How long have you been with her?”

  My response stuttered in my mind. Could I lie to a man like him and tell him she was my girlfriend? Wasn't it Victoria I was trying to fool? Lying about Dagny felt . . . wrong. Dagny was clean and straightforward and honest and good. The things that set her apart from Victoria were the very things I didn't want to create by lying to other people about our relationship status.

  Besides, it wasn't about her being the girlfriend. It was about not being single when Victoria was with someone else. But fate had flipped the tables on me. When I returned home, I wouldn’t think about Victoria again. I’d be damned if I didn’t see Dagny every single day, though. A new fire started in me at just the thought of Dagny. One that so far eclipsed what I once felt for Victoria, it made her look small. I wasn’t about to let it die out.

  Dagny and I were just getting started.

  “What we have is pretty new, to be honest,” I finally said.

  His brow lifted. “Oh?”

  A sweet smell drifted into my nose a second before the elevator arrived. Someone else stood next to me on my other side in a pair of quiet flip flops and a shimmery, loose dress that slipped around perfectly tanned legs.

  “There you are,” drawled Victoria, like a cat just waking up from a nap. “I've been looking for you.”