end of it. The whole point of not dating is to avoid drama.”
“People don’t refuse to date to avoid drama. They do it to protect themselves from getting hurt.” Preston wound my braid around his finger, lightly tugging. “That you’re worried I could hurt you means you’ve let me in farther than you intended. Now you need me to pull back so you can shore up your walls.”
“Preston.”
“Tell me a secret, Belle,” he breathed over my lips.
“Here’s one: I’ve dealt with my share of possessive exes. It usually doesn’t end well for the person who gets in the middle.”
“It does when they choose you.”
“You haven’t chosen me, Preston. You can’t.”
I expected a denial, but none came.
“Want to hear my secret?”
Sighing, I tugged my braid free. “Lay it on me.”
“Before this summer is over, I will fuck you on every inch of this island and half a dozen times in the sea.”
I choked.
“A few times in the orange groves. Once in the kitchen right where they make our food because you like it freaky like that.”
Face lighting on fire, I cried, “Preston!”
“And I’ll lose count how many times we’ll do it on those monogrammed sheets you love.”
“I didn’t say I loved them.”
Right. Because that’s the part of the conversation you should focus on, Belle!
“I’ll lick every last drop of juice from that pussy. Taste all the inches of you I missed the first time. Make you watch again while I pound you raw. Actually raw.” Preston grasped both hands and kissed my knuckles. “No STDs here, baby. Next time there’ll be nothing but you wrapped around me.”
“There— There won’t be a next time.”
His smirk pinned me to the seat. “You meant that as a statement but said it as a question. So, here’s your answer: there will be a next time.”
Ding. Ding. Ding.
“Seven days, Cinderella.”
With that, Preston was gone, moving on to the next girl. My empty hands hung in the air and cheeks a fire-engine red greeted my next two-minute date.
“Hey, Belle. I’m Sergio.” He picked up one of the notecards. “What would be your dream job?”
I answered automatically. The majority of my brain power struggled to process how I lost control of that conversation. I diverted three percent toward carrying on polite conversation.
Stop thinking about him. Preston was six girls down and one away from Delilah. There’s something you have to do on this island and sleeping with Preston Du Pont-Desai is not it.
“What’s your favorite animal?”
I refocused on the sweet-looking, short-haired boy too nervous to look me in the face.
“An aye-aye,” I replied. “Heard of them? They’re big-eyed and bigger-eared creatures that live in the forest. Kinda look like deep-fried cats. They’re harmless, but back in the day, people would kill them on sight because they thought they were demons.”
My date was looking at me now. “They’re your favorite? Why?”
“We have a lot in common. People think I’m a demon too.”
He chuckled. “But deep down, you’re harmless.”
A smile spread across my face. “No.”
The guy left a smoke ring beating it to the other table.
My dates only got better from there.
“What did you do last summer?”
“Rehab.”
“What’s something that most people haven’t done, but you have?”
“Committed homicide.”
“What’s the worst movie you’ve ever seen?”
“Fight Club.”
The guy stopped talking to me after that one, turning away in disgust.
“What do you care least about?” asked Owen.
“The environment. Let the whole damn world burn, I say. Once the human race has gasped its last breath, Mother Nature can hit a millennium-long reset.”
Owen laughed. “You’re a weirdo, aren’t you, Adler?”
“You have no idea.”
“All right.” He shuffled through the cards. “How about this one: What do you never get tired of?”
“Orgasms. Is masturbating multiple times a day really a problem?”
He threw his hands out. “It’s not an addiction unless it’s negatively impacting your life. Keep doing you, girl.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
We high-fived, cracking up.
Ding. Ding.
“You’re alright, Belle.” He winked. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
That wink hit me square in the face. Not the reaction I’m going for. Although, Owen does seem cool.
He can be as cool as he wants as long as we’re just friends like Zion, my sense reminded. I—
“Belle.”
Carter claimed my empty seat, and just like that, Owen was forgotten.
The calm, icy exterior was firmly in place. Carter and I observed each other for the first thirty seconds. Neither one making a move.