Heads or Tails

Chapter 13

Ben takes so many pictures and videos of the tiny turtles. He even takes it upon himself to snap a few more pictures of me, even after I asked him to leave me out of his photography. He doesn't stop, though; he purposely does so to tease me.

Something has shifted between us, and it's so achingly tender that whenever I want to launch myself at him, he smiles at me, snaps another photo of me, or threads his fingers through mine; it's as if we've always been this perfect together.

He snaps another photo, smiling.

"I swear to God, Ben. One more picture, and I will toss your beloved phone into the ocean," I say, half-kidding, half-not.

He laughs. "You wouldn't dare."

"Take one more picture of me, and you'll find out."

He scoops me in his arms in one seamless motion, tackling me gently onto the sand. Holding me down by the wrists, he manages to snap a few more unwanted headshots. I laugh, kicking and screaming beneath him until his body grows still. My giggles stop. Our eyes lock.

He immediately leans down, takes my face in his hands, and looks at me for a heavy, pounding heartbeat before he presses his mouth to mine. As soon as we touch, his lips part slightly, and he exhales a quiet moan. He then leaned closer and took my bottom lip between his teeth.

My hands are in his hair, and I want so much more I'm nearly wild.

"We should head back to the resort," Ben says, hovering over my lips.

I look up at him. He looks uncertain – cautious even – with dark eyes looming and lips slightly parted. I don't want to head back to the resort. I want to feel him along every inch of me. I don't want this to stop. But I follow when he rises to his feet, holding a hand to pull me up from

the sand.

Ben slips his hand into mine as we walk down the beach and back to the car. I don't want our adventure to end. I smile up at him, and he smiles back, his dimple on display.

Our silence is comfortable. Our fingers entwined feel normal. This day together was amazing. But all I can think about is how this day is something real couples do, not just two friends who are casually sleeping together. And when I feel Ben's rapid pulse beat against my palm, I know he feels the shift between us.

"I had the best day with you," he says. "Will it be weird when we return to Chicago in a few days?"

I blink, clearing the fog of my Ben Lust, and wait to hear exactly what he means. I hope he wants nothing more than to be with me, but maybe I'm wrong.

"Weird, how?"

He surprised me by saying, "We'd need to adjust to a life where we are more than just friends."

My heart swells. That was not what I expected him to say. I expected him to say that what was going on between us would end once we returned to Chicago, not that it would continue.

I want to reach up, cup his face, and kiss him like I've never kissed anyone before. This desire is fueled by relief that I can trust his intentions are real.

Instead, I say, "I think Jessica would flip if she found out we were dating."

When I say this, he bursts out laughing. Finally, he manages, "She'd think we were crazy."

I glance at him at his angled, stubbly jaw, long tan neck, and arms, which give me an odd sense of safety I never knew they could. "Do you think we're crazy?"

He looks out across the ocean, his eyes narrowing, and I wonder what he's thinking. His chest lifts with a deep inhale, and he closes his eyes as he exhales, "Honestly, Megs. I'm not sure. But I know there isn't anyone else in the world I want to be crazy with."