Touch me Not

28. playing with fire

The days had passed by far too quickly. It felt as if we'd just arrived in the Bahamas, when in fact, we were back where we'd started—in Nassau, preparing to catch our return flight in the morning.

The kitchen in the airy villa felt strangely familiar, especially after switching between different hotels the previous nights. The mixer slowed with a soft purr, and Cameron poured an orange drink into a tall glass filled with crushed ice. Both Chris and I stared, mesmerized and thirsty after yet another day at sea. It was our last night, and I wanted to cherish it.

Cameron seemed to read my thoughts. "Here you go." He handed me the glass, and I almost flinched as our fingers brushed with the lightest of touches. "You want one too?" he asked Chris, seemingly unaffected by the accidental caress.

I stirred the drink with the black straw, curling my fingers around the cold crystal to stop them from burning. He shouldn't affect me, but he did. In fact, I registered every single movement he made, drawn closer to him by invisible threads.

Chris stole the drink from my hands and placed his lips around the straw, disregarding my narrowed eyes. "This is awesome. Whatever it is, I'll have one."

Cameron chuckled and returned to the mixer. "I'll let you guess what it is."

The two continued to banter back and forth while I took a seat by the table and tried to forget about the way Cameron made me feel. The tension was clearly one-sided as Cameron showed nothing beyond the ordinary.

It was comforting to hear them talk with each other as if nothing were wrong—as if they had relaxed as well. They didn't seem as adamant on including me in their conversation, and they didn't look at me every ten seconds to make sure I remained alive. They didn't hover which was a huge change from how it had been at the start of the week.

Dante sauntered in through the patio door, his dark hair still dripping with salty water. "What's going on?" he asked, tilting his head as Chris lashed another mock insult at Cameron.

The mixer whirled alive and killed any other attempts at conversation. When he was done, Cameron emptied the orange slush into another tall glass which Chris stole without as much as a thank you.

Chris grinned at his boyfriend as he approached and gave Dante a swift kiss. "Cameron is spoiling us."

Dante pulled out the thin straw and threw it on the table behind him. Ignoring Chris' affronted frown, he took a long gulp and smacked his lips when done.

"Add some vodka and this would be even better." Without waiting for a reply Dante crossed the room and opened the freezer to pull out a clear bottle.

"When did you get that?" Chris trailed after him and grabbed the liquor, squinting at the label. Someone was eager for a stronger drink. I wasn't about to oppose the idea—the fruity drink would be even better with some fire in it.

I joined Chris and bumped against his shoulder.

"You sure?" he asked me, eyeing my glass.

"I'm not a child, Chris. Yes, I want a drink."

To my exasperation, Chris looked at Cameron for support.

"No heat stroke today?" Cameron asked, walking closer as if he was about to check my temperature. For a fraction of a second, I longed for the touch only to wave off the errant craving.

"No. I've learned my lesson. I'm feeling fine."

"Might want to take it easy with the alcohol, though," he warned. I'd been sensitive to the heat ever since I had taken that awfully long stroll through the city, but I had slowly got better each day.