Jillian Dodd - Adore Me

He looks down and laughs. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.”

I laugh too. “I used to stand up here when I was little and make my friend say just that.”

He turns me back toward the bedroom. “You have a big bed,” he says cutely, referring to what I said at my loft when I was trying to get him to share my room.

“I do,” I reply, eyeing the king-sized four-poster bed draped with mosquito netting. “I also used to gather up every pillow in the place, stack them on this bed, and pretend I was the princess from the ‘The Princess and the Pea.’ That reminds me . . .” I walk over to the side table and open the drawer, just to make sure it’s still there.

“What's that?”

I pull the thick book out and show him.

“Fairy tales, huh?”

My eyes get teary thinking about how that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

My fairytale.

My prince.

My happily ever after.

But it all seems so silly now.

Because life is not a fairy tale.

In those stories, a prince never told the princess that he was gay. Or that it was her fault he got drugged. Or that he was going away for a year. Or that he got a text from his ex. And never did the princess have to put him on a plane and send him back to his castle. She never had to fight the dragon alone. And she never had to choose between two princes when the fight was over.

But, then, none of the princesses were stupid enough to make a wish on the moon.

Aiden gently takes the book out of my tight grip and sets it on the table. Then he sweeps me into a dance, humming a familiar song.

One of our songs.

I lean my head into his shoulder and enjoy the dance, knowing this will probably be our last. I try to tuck it away in my memory.

The way his body fits perfectly against mine.

The way his lips feel as they brush across my ear.

The way his hand is splayed possessively across my back.

He stops humming and whispers, “Let me sleep here with you.”

I stop moving and swallow. I can’t.

I really can’t.

But, oh, how I want him to hold me in his arms every second of each day I have left with him.

Even if it’s nothing but pure torture.

A life-sized version of listening to our twenty-nine-song playlist over and over again.

“You told me you wouldn't say no,” I reply, hoping that will force him back to his room.

“I won’t. We can do it right here, right now, if you want to.”

“I want to wait,” I say. I can’t be with him. I cannot be with him.

“Seriously?”

“I never wanted to have sex, Aiden. I just wanted to do a little more. And I hate being told no.”

“That’s a lesson I think I’ve learned,” he says, touching his nose and laughing.

“You’re going to have a little bump on the left side of your nose. Your face isn’t going to be quite so perfect anymore.”

“I’m far from perfect, Boots, but I know that I’m perfect for you.”

My eyes fill with tears again and I can’t help it. I kiss him.

Hard.

Full of passion.

Of regret.

Of I wish.

Of I’m going to cherish every single kiss for the next four days.

“Damn,” he says ten minutes later, after he’s pulled me on the bed and I’ve finally stopped kissing him to breathe. He pushes my hair behind my ear and runs the back of his hand under my chin. “As much as I’d like to stay here and kiss you, we should probably go meet my sister.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I agree, pushing myself off the bed.

As I run into the bathroom and throw on a bikini, he asks me, “So what were you going to do here all by yourself?”

“I have a list.”

“What’s on it?”

As we walk hand in hand back to the main house, I tell him. “Just some stuff. It’s kinda lame.”

“Tell me anyway.”

I roll my eyes and start reciting my list. “Eat a fish I caught myself was on there, but that sounds gross in retrospect. Do yoga in the sand. Swim with the dolphins.”

“Will we see dolphins?”

“If we take the wave runners out and just sit there, we might.”

“What else?”

“Macramé a pair of sandals.” I laugh at myself. “I probably won’t do that. I don’t even know how to macramé. Let’s see. Make a necklace out of shells. I do that every time I come here.”

“I’d like a shell necklace,” he says, pulling my hand to his lips and kissing it.

“We’ll look for shells tonight,” I say as we wander into the great room and find Peyton kicked back, tropical drink in hand, nibbling off a tray of snacks.

“You need to go change,” she says to Aiden.

My surfboard.

8pm

I’ve given them the full tour, we’ve walked the beach, and we’re now sitting poolside, having a drink and a few appetizers before dinner.

Aiden is telling us about his parents’ Thanksgiving safari when Peyton says casually, “There’s a guy walking up your beach with a surfboard.” She takes another sip of her fruity umbrella drink then asks, “Do people surf at night?”

“Around sunset they do, but not usually in the dark,” I reply, instantly panicking that Vincent has found me.

But then I turn around and see him.

He’s walking up the sandy path, carrying a surfboard and looking like home.

“Oh my gosh! That’s not just any surfboard! It’s my surfboard!” I scream with delight.

I jump up and barrel towards him as he yells out, “Keats!”

I fling myself into his arms and plant a big kiss on him as he picks me up and twirls me around.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” I screech. “And you brought my board!”

When he drops me to my feet, I don’t let go. The last time I saw him, I didn’t hug him like I should have.

“I thought you were supposed to be here alone,” he says.

Shit, I think, glancing back at Aiden and Peyton. This is going to be hard to explain.

“I was but they showed up at the plane and—wait, how did you get here? Do people know you’re here? What if you were followed?”

“Calm down, Keats. I flew from Tokyo to L.A. Went to my dad’s. Even went to the Undertow and offered to play for them tomorrow night, knowing I wouldn’t show up. Then I snuck over to your house and got your board. Glad no one’s changed the garage code. Dad’s assistant picked me up at the pier, drove me around in circles, and then to the airport where I hitched a ride with a company exec to North Carolina. In North Carolina, I had another plane waiting to bring me here. No one knows I’m here but B and Dad’s assistant. Even my family thinks I’m home sleeping off jet lag.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too. Now for what’s important. Tell me that incredible creature sitting on my deck is real and not an amazing jet-lag-induced mirage.”

“She’s real, Damian, but you can’t.”

“Oh, but I can. She has the most perfect lips.”

“Ohmigawd, no. Don’t look at her mouth. Don’t even look at her. And don’t talk to her at all.”

“I’m not going to be rude to your friends.”

“Don't you dare fall for her. You can’t.”

“Too late. She just smiled at me. I'm in love.”

“Damian. No.”

“Don’t tell me no. Be nice. I went through a lot to get here so that you wouldn’t be alone for the holiday. But, happily, you are not. And you even brought me a treat.”

“She is not your treat, but I suppose I’m going to have to have to introduce you.”

“Hell, yeah, you have to. I need to be introduced to my future wife.”

I laugh at him and start to walk back, when Damian grabs my arm and says, “You forgetting something?”

“Oh my gosh! Yes, I am!” I walk back to him with a grin. I love this boy. Ever since the first time I came here when I was nine, he's given me a piggyback ride up to the house.