She smiled and walked around my chair to lean down from behind, running a finger up my arm, setting every inch from her touch on fire. She whispered in my ear, “You’re welcome to join me…”

And with that, I jumped to my feet and announced to my now silenced friends, “Yep. Dolphins.”

I hurried after Bane, my hands on her hips. She didn’t hurry, and now I had my chest pressed to her back, vaguely feeling the curves of the nice backside I’d just been admiring. She fit so perfectly against me.

“Look!” She pointed out at the water where two dolphins jumped into the air, spinning.

“That’s pretty cool.”

We leaned against the railing, and I kept an arm around her, pulling her to my side, my hand precariously low on her back. She stiffened and I was quick to ask, “Too much? Should I move?”

“Are they watching?”

I stole a glance over my shoulder. “Yep.”

She snaked an arm around my waist, inadvertently twisting into me so that two things simultaneously happened: My hand slipped lower, nearly groping the top of her butt, and her breast grazed my side. In response—I swore to the gods I hadn’t meant to—my hand twitched, an imperceptible squeeze where it rested much too low on her backside.

I braced for her reaction. It didn’t come.

Where was Bane’s shove? Her pushing me into the water? Her quick remark to put me in my place? Or was she…was she so uncomfortable that she couldn’t move? I should move.

From this angle, I caught her profile. The rim of her hat hid her eyes, shaded her nose, but left her mouth to my hungry gaze. She was biting her lip.

Did she…like it? Did she like me touching her?

Because I was bold or stupid or really wanted to get slapped into the ocean…I gave a slight squeeze.

Bane heaved, her petite fingers clutching my shirt over my hip. If she bit her lip any harder, she was going to bleed. But damn if I’d ever been more turned on.

Nineteen Bhanu

The air sparked around us. Was Sunny…touching my butt, and more importantly, did I like it? I did not, could not, be attracted to Sunny. Ludicrous, unsound, to feel this way about a grump who’d made it his career goal to irk me at work every single day.

However, twisted insides and roller-coaster thrills and a fired-up body were telling my brain to shut up. If the chemical reactions raging through me could be a voice, they would collectively say, “Sunny is getting your dried-out wheels lubricated. You need this.”

Ugh. The obvious explanation was that this stupid fantasy tied up into the fact that I hadn’t been touched by a man in a long time had finally unraveled any good sense.

For however long this interaction lasted, I allowed myself to enjoy it. But never would I cave. I would never melt into him, never squeeze him back, never flirt, never let him know what his touch did to me, never act on these ridiculous impulses. Never, ever, ever.

At some point, we had to part. Sejal had brought a basket of breads, sweets, fruit, and cheese onboard. We hadn’t had time for breakfast this morning, and this was a welcome treat.

“Please, help yourself,” she told me. “And I’m so sorry. Truly.”

Sunny, even while biting into a croissant, seemed suspicious.

“Perhaps I didn’t respond well,” I began to say when Sunny wrapped an arm around my waist and pecked my hair, stirring butterflies in my belly. But I had to remember that he was playing a part, and maybe he was even acting more for his ex.

“You responded correctly,” he said.

Sejal’s shoulders deflated, and here I was truly expecting her to snap. I really wanted to know so many things that no well-mannered person would ask in this moment, but…what the heck happened between these two and did they still have feelings for each other? Was Sejal jealous? Was Sunny playing her game? Slowly, the idea of him wanting her back turned sour.

I chewed on decadent goat cheese and rustic bread knowing this was going to make me bloat in a matter of minutes, but I didn’t care. It tasted so good. And I needed something to do.

“I did not mean to manipulate anything,” she confessed, then said to Sunny, “But I’m glad that you’ve moved on and are doing…better.”

“Better” didn’t sound like a compliment, not the way Sunny tensed.

Maya and April, who wore cover-ups shaped like short kaftan dresses, joined us with effervescence and excitement about breaking out the bubbly. I’d learned that Aamar and Maya had sprung for the boat and Sejal had brought all the drinks and food.

Sunny excused himself to find the restroom, and shortly after, April took a call and Maya had to calm her down from a possible “flower disaster.” I didn’t envy brides, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I mused over how Indian brides got through planning multiple events and days of traditions and parties.

Sejal didn’t slip away to calm her friend. She must’ve seen my curiosity because she explained, “I’m backup. I have no idea how to fix wedding things. Honestly, Aamar and Maya have taken that role and they’ve been pretty good at it. I might keep them in mind when my wedding arrives.”

“Are you and Pradeep considering marriage?”

She shrugged. “That was my hope, but he’s not there yet. There was only one person I’d gotten that far with…”

Her voice trailed off as she plucked a grape from its stem and popped it into her mouth.

I quietly observed.

She said, “He must’ve told you our history?”

Ah, so she did mean Sunny was the one she’d wanted to marry, the one who got away.

I didn’t respond; instead I watched her through my polarized shades. My dad had often dealt with people who talked their heads off, liked to argue or shove their privilege down others’ throats, and what he’d learned was to stay quiet. If a person was trying to argue or push a point and the other person refused to argue back, it deflated their antagonization. If he let that person argue until they had nothing left to say, he found that they’d often shut up and realize that he didn’t care and/or they didn’t have much of an argument in the first place. Those people eventually stopped arguing with him, stopped trying to push their narrative onto him, and grew less assured about their stances.

Papa had said it was interesting to watch people with pointless views unravel themselves in the quiet.

Maybe I’d learned my take of no-drama from my father. And this was a brilliant tactic. It worked every time.

Sejal had been saying, “We dated for a long time, were thinking about engagement, you know? Of course you know. Our parents are good friends, and everyone was expecting him to propose, but well, things weren’t at the level they needed to be.”

I didn’t move or utter a sound, yet my body was relaxed.

Sejal, on the other hand, fidgeted with the stem in her hand and her expression subtly changed every couple of sentences. She’d started with haughty, then a tinge of annoyance, a pause for jealousy, annoyance again, and then her confidence eventually broke into uncertainty. Not about the story she was telling—it was probably true—but about my reaction. Or lack thereof.

“We were serious, obviously. But Sunny is a workaholic. All he cares about is work. I wanted more, needed more. He kept saying he was trying, but he wasn’t. Finally, I’d had enough.” She scoffed, as if Sunny had deeply traumatized her. “It wasn’t my fault that I went to someone else who understood.”

At that, I reacted, my brows coming together in a scowl. She’d cheated on him?

“Oh. I mean I left him for someone else, not Pradeep. It was a fling, but I don’t cheat. Anyway. I worked on Sunny for so long, and he improved. I’m sure my work must’ve paid off; he’s come a long way. You seem happy with him.”

No response. Was she expecting me to…thank her?

She shifted under my impassive glare, as if my silence was making her uncomfortable. She tucked hair behind her ear, her once confident gaze flitting to her feet. She swallowed. All signs that she was losing her conviction, questioning herself, maybe even questioning her motive for telling me all this, whatever that might be.

“Was that right?”