Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Danielle

I carefully pull Logan’s earbuds out of his ears and take the iPad from his lap, shutting it off and putting it away in his carry-on bag. The pilot just came on and asked us all to turn off our electronic devices so we can start our descent. It’s been rather cold this whole flight, and Logan and I were sharing my blanket as we watched Infinity War together on the iPad. Logan fell asleep halfway through, and I’m feeling just as sleepy.

After putting my own stuff away, I buckle my seat belt and look at Logan’s lap, biting my lip. I don’t know if his seatbelt is on, thanks to the blanket. I lift it up so I can check. His seat belt isn’t buckled, and I don’t want to wake him up. Unbuckling mine again, I lean over, trying to find both parts to his seatbelt so I can click it into place.

I can’t reach it, so I drop to my knees and inch closer. And then the plane hits a bit of turbulence. I pitch forward, hitting my forehead on Logan’s knee.

“Trying to cop a feel?” he asks, looking at me quizzically.

“Oh, you’d know if I was trying, because I would have succeeded.” I put one hand on his leg and push myself up. “I was trying to put your seat belt on. We’re going to land soon.”

“Told you I wasn’t a fully functional adult.” He smiles and runs his hand through his hair, messing it up. “Can’t even put my own seatbelt on.”

“Ha-ha. You so do believe that’s all I was trying to do. For all you know I could have been trying to steal your wallet. Maybe this whole thing was a ruse to get you to come to Hawaii with me so I could start a new life of crime.”

He reaches down and clicks the seatbelt into place. “And this is coming from the person who thought washing dirty money meant actually washing dollar bills with soap and water.”

“It’s a very misleading expression.”

“Just like the steak-fries,” he says with a snort of laughter.

I narrow my eyes and put my seatbelt back on. “It’s an honest mistake and one I really think you should let go.”

“No way. I’m forever going to be reminding you of the time you asked for ‘regular fries’ because you really didn’t want strips of steak along with your burger.”

“That’s a lot of meat!” I laugh. “And I thought you said you don’t fall asleep on planes.”

“I never have before. You bored me to sleep.”

“Jerk.”

The plane hits another patch of turbulence, startling me. I reach down for the armrest, forgetting we put it up. My hand comes down on Logan’s thigh, but I don’t take it off. The plane continues to bump along, and my mind flashes to seeing the oxygen masks coming down and everyone screaming as the plane plummets into the ocean.

“It’s okay.” Logan puts his hand on top of mine, and his touch is comforting. “Just a bit of turbulence.”

“A bit?” I press my hand against his thigh to keep me from flipping mine over and slipping my fingers through his. Though gripping his thigh isn’t much better. I let out a slow breath. “I’m not really a nervous flyer, but there’s something about being over the ocean that freaks me out.”

Logan looks out the window at the dark ocean. “I think we’d have a better chance of surviving a crash into water than on land.”

“Only to drown and get eaten by a megalodon.”

“Those aren’t real.”

“They might be. There’s so much stuff in the ocean we haven’t discovered yet.”

The plane bumps again, and I press my head against the headrest. Logan curls his fingers around my palm.

“Is this your first time visiting Hawaii?” the woman next to me asks.

“Yeah,” I tell her. “You?”

“Oh no, this is our fourth trip.” She motions to another woman who’s sitting a row ahead of us. “We just love it here.” Her eyes fall to Logan’s hand on mine. “There’s so much to do we come back every year to try and check another thing off our list.”

“I was really hoping to do the Road to Hana, but I don’t think we’ll have time before the wedding.”

A broad smile breaks out on the woman’s face. “You’re getting married?”

“My sister is.”

She looks at my left hand, eyeing the engagement ring. “You’ll be planning your wedding here next.”

I laugh. “I don’t know about that.”

She looks past me at Logan. “You’re a lucky man.”

Logan turns his head toward mine, smiling. We don’t even know this woman. It’s a good test on our plan to be fake-engaged.

“Yeah.” He squeezes my hand. “I am.”

“Have you started planning your wedding yet?”

“No, not yet,” he answers.

“Good,” the woman laughs. “Because seeing one Hawaiian wedding is enough to make you want to get married on the beach as well.”

“I’m sure it’ll be amazing,” Logan says. “But I think something a little more laid back is more our style, right babe?”

“Yeah. Something a little more country. I do like the idea of an outdoor ceremony, with the reception in a big, old barn.”

“Oh, those rustic weddings are trendy,” the woman says.

“We wouldn’t do it for the trend,” Logan tells her. “It just fits us.”

And now I know pretending to be a couple is wrong. But dammit, this type of wrong feels so fucking good.

*

“Wow.” Everything is dark, but the view is still incredible. A slight breeze rustles my hair, and I grip the balcony railing, looking out at the beach and ocean. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is.” Logan steps next to me, resting his elbows on the railing as he looks out. “It’s quieter than I thought it would be.”

“It’s like two AM.”

“And seven AM for us. I think I’m at the point of being so tired I’m not tired anymore.”

“You napped on the plane.” I tip my head toward him, nudging him with my hip. It’s something I’ve done before, but for some reason, the contact feels too intimate. “I’m tired, but the thought of changing into my PJs, washing my face, and brushing my teeth seems too daunting. So I’m going to stand here being tired and not doing anything about it.”

“Smart, Danielle.”

“You don’t know the struggle of wanting to crash but having to take off makeup.”

“Can’t you just sleep in it for one night?”

“It’s bad for your skin, plus I’ll wake up with eyeliner and mascara smeared all over my face.”

Logan chuckles softly. “That would be a scary sight.”

“Terrifying. Just wait until you see me with bed head too.”

The muscles in Logan’s jaw tense and he pushes off the balcony, looking at me with what I can only describe as confusion on his face, as if he doesn’t know what to think or how to act right now.

Neither do I.

“You really should go to bed.”

“Yeah,” I breathe and take another look out at the dark ocean before following Logan into the room. He uses the bathroom and showers while I unpack my suitcase. I pile my hair into a tight bun on the top of my head and sit on the bed, waiting for my turn to shower.

Logan comes out of the bathroom wearing grey sweatpants. His hair is damp, and his skin is reddened from the hot water. He’s holding his towel and brings it up to his head, rubbing it over his hair once more.

Everything inside me feels all squishy, and I instantly regret not packing my vibrator. Not like I could use it, though.

“H-how was your shower?” I fumble over my words, mentally yelling at myself to stop staring at Logan. My eyes are on his muscular chest right now, and when I try to look away, my gaze drops to his crotch. There’s a bulge in his pants, and when he takes a step closer to the bed, I can see the outline of his large dick.

I squeeze my eyes closed and reach up to play with my hair like I do when I’m nervous, forgetting that I have it in a ridiculous topknot. Why the hell does Logan have to be so damn attractive? It’s downright rude of him to be so tan and fit, sporting the perfect five o’clock shadow. And the nerve of him to wear gray fucking sweatpants. The only thing worse would be him coming out in a well-tailored suit, which he’s going to be wearing Saturday for the wedding.

I.

Am.

So.

Fucked.

“It was fine.” He hangs up the towel and looks at me on the bed. “So…how is this going to work?”

I pull the band out of my hair, needing something to do with my hands that’s not running them over every ripple of muscle on Logan’s body.

“How is…is what going to work?”

“Sleeping. There’s only one bed. And two of us.”

“Oh, right.” I blink and let out a breath. “It’s a big bed.”

“Plenty of room for us both?” Logan raises an eyebrow. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I can sleep on the couch.”

“That’s not a couch.” I wave my hand at the little love seat near the balcony door. “You stay on one side and I stay on the other, and we’ll be fine. And don’t get handsy.”

He gives me a cheeky grin.

Dammit, Logan. Stop being so adorable and sexy at the same time.

“I can’t make any promises.”

My eyes go to his hands. His large hands with long fingers and rough skin on his palms. Hands that would feel so good on my body. Spreading my legs. Slowly moving between my thighs and up to my—

“I’m going to get in the shower.” I almost fall off the bed I get up so fast. I grab my stuff and buzz past him and into the bathroom, leaning against the door as soon as I get it closed. My heart is hammering in my chest, and it feels like I’m doing something wrong again.

But am I?

Shaking myself, I put my hair back into a bun and start the shower. The water is warm and feels so good rushing down on my skin. I should lower the temperature and stand here shivering the desire right off me, because my body is craving it bad right now.

Turning my thoughts to something much less pleasant, I sit on the shower floor to shave my legs and think about seeing my family in the morning. It’s sad, really, how strained things are between me and my parents. Growing up, I used to think I must have been adopted since I was so different than the rest of my family.

Feeling like you don’t fit in with your own family is an isolating feeling, one I can’t really explain. I wanted to fit in. I wanted to make my parents proud. So for years, I did what I thought I was supposed to do. I followed Dad’s “ten-year plan” only to get toward the end of that ten years and look back and mourn the wasted time.

I can’t change the past, and regrets only rob me from any happiness the present can offer. But I do wonder what life would have been like if I had done what I wanted to do instead of what was expected of me. Maybe I’d feel like I knew who I was, and I’d have a purpose in this world.

Or maybe not.

Maybe I’m damned to always feel like this. Never really fitting in anywhere. Not really having a sense of identity. Not having anything that truly defines me.

I swallow the lump that’s rising in my throat and think about Logan. And then the reason why I’m so scared to be more than friends hits me like a punch to the gut.

How can I expect anyone to love me when I don’t even know who I am?