Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

MACY

W ood comes back from the bathroom. I'm still lying face down on the bed, unable to move.

I've never experienced anything like it. I can feel the adrenaline leaving my bloodstream. I'm shaking with it. Cold sweat. Yet, I'm hot all over, burning from the inside.

I'm satiated. Satisfied. Overwhelmed.

Alive.

Wood presses a warm, damp wash cloth between my legs. I spasm when it brushes my over-sensitive clit.

"Sorry," he whispers. And then he moves the cloth up between my bum cheeks. Wiping away the excess lube then gently massaging and soothing the ache there. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to?—"

"Wood, no. You didn't hurt me. It was just…a lot. I don't know how to describe it."

"You're over-stimulated."

"Yes."

"Okay."

Without saying anything else, he gets up and turns all the lights off in the room, then the lights in the bathroom. It's dark and now my eyelids are heavy.

He turns the shower on in the bathroom then he comes back out, rolls me over and hoists me up into his arms. I start to ask what he's doing, but he makes a soft "shh" sound and then silently carries me into the bathroom, opens the glass shower door and lets me down on the smooth, wet tile.

It's almost pitch black in here. The water is warm and comforting, raining down from the ceiling, cascading over my body. The sound of the water pattering against the tile and glass echoes around the walls, drowning out every other sound and thought.

Wood's chest brushes against my back, solid and strong. And then his arm is around me and I lean back against him, closing my eyes.

His hands are on me. Soft and gentle. Slick. Soapy. The smell of my peach body wash.

He lathers it across my shoulders, over my breasts and down my stomach. Between my legs, too briefly, then my thighs and back up over my rear and my back.

The water washes it away and then he lathers my hair with shampoo.

I lean my head back, sighing at the feel of his fingers massaging my scalp. The fresh, citrusy scent of the shampoo fills the air along with the steam.

Wood rinses my hair and then repeats with conditioner. By the time it's rinsed out, I'm replete. Calm and relaxed, a sleepy little noodle.

He hugs me around the middle from behind and kisses the spot where my shoulder meets my neck. The water is like percussion all around us.

"Thank you," I whisper as he turns the water off.

He doesn't say anything back, just dries me off with a warm, fluffy towel, slips my oversized Garfield shirt on over my head, and then starts getting all my testing supplies out.

We brush our teeth, and he watches me check my blood sugar.

My levels are good, so I don't need to inject. I rinse the blood off my finger and then he takes my hand and kisses me there, right where I had to jab it.

I can walk, but he carries me to bed, and I don't object. He holds me, even under the covers, and I fall asleep almost instantly.

I'm aware of the light, first. Glowing and bright behind my eyelids. And then, his voice. Faint and low in the background. A soft chuckle. Warm. Comforting. Familiar.

I stretch my legs between the silky sheets and exhale as I open my eyes.

Wood is sitting in the chair in the corner by the window, bathed in the diffused morning sun. His laptop is open in his lap, a steaming coffee mug perched on the windowsill, and he's talking to someone on the phone.

My stirring catches his eye, and he immediately breaks out into his big lopsided grin.

He closes his computer. "I've got to go. She just woke up. Yeah, I'll talk to you soon. Love you, too."

He ends the call as I sit up. "Who was that?" I ask.

"My mom."

"Do you always tell your mom when a girl's sleeping with you?"

He laughs. "No. But Noah may have mentioned me having a girlfriend to her."

I cover my mouth. "Oh no. What did you say?"

"She was so happy I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth. She's already making plans for Christmas."

"Oh no, now I feel terrible."

"Don't worry about it. She'll be fine. How are you?" He picks up his coffee and sits on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. I slept great."

"Are you sore?" He grimaces.

"No," I say in a light tone, smiling.

I am.

Every time I shift I can feel where he was last night. But in a good way. I like the reminder. The memory of it. I like that he's been where no one else has. Heat blooms in my cheeks as I think about it.

"Coffee?" He offers me his mug.

"Sure." I take it, our fingertips brushing in the exchange, and take a sip. It warms my throat, the perfect temperature. It also has the perfect amount of sweetness and a hint of hazelnut flavor. I'm pretty sure Wood usually drinks his coffee black.

He watches me as I drink and normally that would make me feel self-conscious, but he does it with an easy smile on his face and his hand on my ankle over the covers like we've sipped coffee every morning together for years.

I hand him back his mug, but he says, "Keep it. I'll get myself more. Should I get us breakfast, too, while you're getting dressed?"

I nod. "Extra bacon?"

His smile grows and he squeezes my foot. "You got it."

He stands to leave and something in my chest lurches forward. Like I don't want him to go.

It was supposed to be overcast today, but there's hardly a cloud in the sky. The sun's a white-hot spotlight in the sea of bright blue, and we're in the middle of a golf course. No trees. Only unnaturally green grass on gently rolling hills.

Wood insisted on slathering me with sunscreen before we left.

Everyone apparently got a memo to dress all cute. Livvy's in a yellow sundress, the sunshine to Noah's all-black fit. Margot is up ahead with Jake and Spencer wearing a white tennis skirt and bubblegum pink polo shirt. They're all wearing Polos. Like a preppy family of clones. They're in the first golf cart with Zayne and Dane. Moving faster through the holes. I think they're actually using score cards and stuff.

The rest of us non-country club-type people are in the slacker golf cart bringing up the back. Well, all of us except Wood. He looks like he fits in perfectly with his salmon-colored shorts and casually buttoned white linen shirt.

He takes a swing and sends the golf ball sailing into the sky, his calves flexing and his tanned arms bulging. He watches the ball to see where it lands, the breeze in his hair, sunglasses on, the angle of his jaw and the softness of his lips?—

I forgot where I was going with this.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting with Bex in the golf cart, sweating, in the same denim shorts I wore yesterday while she drinks spiked strawberry lemonades.

"Ugh." Bex lifts her sunglasses and sets them on her head. "We were supposed to have an almond cake with vanilla buttercream but Jake's aunt complained that her and Jake's cousin have nut allergies. So, he just changed it to a coconut cake, without even consulting me."

"You don't even like coconut."

"Right? We could have just ordered a small cake for them or some cupcakes, but now it's too late. The cake's already made, and he tells me about it last night."

"Bex!" Noah yells from the teeing ground. "You're up."

"Play through!" Bex yells back, then takes a sip of her lemonade. She turns to me. "I mean, there aren't even actual nuts in the cake."

"Almond extract."

"And is coconut not also a nut?"

"It's technically a fruit."

"Whatever. Jake's so sweet and he knows I've been stressed and I know he just wanted to take this off my plate. He's trying to make everyone happy, but it's frustrating, you know? This is my wedding, I'm probably only going to have, like, two of these at the most."

"Bex!" I elbow her.

She grins, biting her straw, and laughs so hard she almost falls out of the cart.

Livvy goes up to take her driving shot next.

"Well, for what it's worth," I say to Bex, "everything has been beautiful and seems to be going smoothly. From the outside, at least. Oh, that reminds me. I've been meaning to thank you for having the daily menus in the rooms. It was so thoughtful and has helped me so much not to be stressed about the food situation this week."

"Menus in the rooms?" Bex wrinkles her forehead.

"Yeah. They appear like magic every day, I don't even know when they're doing it."

"Because of your diabetes, oh my god! I should have thought of that, I'm such a shitty friend. I'm sorry. The move and the wedding have sort of taken over my life the last few weeks and I haven't been there for you. But I didn't have anything to do with that."

"Then who did?"

Bex shrugs. "Maybe the wedding coordinator arranged it. Or maybe it's something the cook staff just does for these kinds of events. I don't know. I'm not used to all this fancy shit."

Noah finishes his turn and then Wood yells, "Mace! It's you."

"I don't know what I'm doing," I whisper to Wood as he hands me a club. Or driver. Or whatever I'm supposed to call it.

He smiles and it's like all the sunlight reflects off him. "Here." He puts his hands on my hips and lines me up by the tee. He says more words about my hips and the angle and which arm I'm supposed to bend, but I can't keep it all straight.

His chest is at my back and he closes his hands around mine, showing me where to grip the club and then how to follow through with my swing. I'm concentrating more on the way he smells and how much I like his touch.

I swing and miss the ball the first time. Wood tells me not to worry about it and try again. I hit the ball on the second try. It's abysmal. Wood pumps his fist and high fives me while giving me an "atta girl" and telling me how amazing I did.

Bex is still drinking in the cart, sitting shotgun and blasting music when we're done with the hole. Livvy and Noah jump onto the backseat. Wood sits in the driver's seat, and I yelp as he grabs me by the waist and plops me onto his lap so we can drive down to the green.

I stay in the shade of the cart with Bex as everyone else exits the cart to keep playing. I can't help but watch Wood pick his club and kneel next to his ball, lining it up. He's just so…masculine, and athletic, and effortless about everything.

Bex is grinning at me.

"What?"

"You're in love ."

My immediate instinct is to say no, I'm not, but then I remember. "Aren't I supposed to be? We're dating." My voice almost betrays how fast my heart is beating, because I haven't been faking anything.

"I've just never seen you act like this. It looks good on you. So things are going well between you two?" Bex raises her eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, it's good. Really, really good." I adjust in the seat. "My bum is kind of sore, though."

Bex nods. "Oh god, my ass is so sore from yesterday, too. Why do bike seats have to be so small and pokey and uncomfortable? It's like sitting on a popsicle stick."

I lower my voice. "It's not sore from riding the bike."

Bex's eyes get wide, her straw falling out of her mouth. And then, loud enough for everyone to hear, she yells, "Macy. In your ass!"

Wood chokes on the sip of water he just took from his water bottle, spitting it onto the grass as Noah claps him on the back. Everyone is looking in our direction.

Bex doesn't seem to notice. "Ma'am. I am gagged!"

"Apparently, not enough," I say through my teeth, trying not to laugh.

She shrugs. "It's just us five. I knew he was amazing in the sack, but Jesus Christ I did not see that one coming."

"How do you know he's amazing in bed?"

"Oh"—she grabs my leg—"not from personal experience. Bethany—she used to work at the bar with me—went out with him a few times last year and she wouldn't shut up about it for, like three months."

"Right." And now, for no reason whatsoever, I'm trying to recall what Bethany looked like. I think she was tall with long, straight dark brown hair. Pretty. Bubbly.

"We need to have a girls' night so you can give me the details. When I get back from the honeymoon? I don't even know how you two hooked up. I want the story. Like, did he finally confess how he's been pining over you for the last six years?"

"What? No." I scrunch up my face. "That's ridiculous. He hasn't."

Bex tilts her head. "Huh. I guess I never confirmed, but I always thought he had a thing for you."

"Really?" The idea is absurd. Wood. Pining over me? No. No way. But my chest tightens at the thought. I wish it were true.

Bex's face lights up. "Oh! Also, I need to know his birthday, where he was born, and what time. It's critical."

I nod and smile and Bex keeps sipping down. Blissfully buzzed.

I didn't realize it would be such a big deal to me—sleeping with Wood. But it was.

The way we were together, the way he treated me after—it was special. I felt special.

That familiar emptiness, the lonely feeling in my gut creeps back, the one I'd forgotten about the last couple of days since the breakup. And it's telling me that I was wrong.

I'm silly and emotional.

Maybe Wood is simply that good in bed. Maybe he's like that with everyone. Last night wasn't more special to him than any other night with any other girl.

It wasn't special.

And I'm not special.