*****
The curious case of Andrew Stanfield crept into her mind, as she pondered the mystery that was him. She had his medical history and knew he’d lost his pregnant wife in a tragic accident ten years ago. He’d been driving and he’d blamed himself. So he resolved his hurt by drinking himself into oblivion while also somehow managing not only to keep his businesses afloat but to triple it in that time. He’d taken the money his wife left him and grew it into a huge empire. But he didn’t care about any of it. It was just something to do until the alcohol found a way to kill him.
Seraphina really wanted to help him. And she really thought that she was. She wondered how he was taking her absence. Would he miss her? Sera pushed these thoughts away as slightly inappropriate. Set on thinking about the water instead, Seraphina centered her mind. When she got back to her room she would have another shower and order room service. Tomorrow’s match started at eleven, with a shit ton of things to do beforehand, so it would be an early night. The smell of chlorine and suntan lotion soothed her.
Peace… for now.
Until Seraphina collided with a solid brick wall.
*****
Sputtering water, flailing from shock, Seraphina released a string of curses in Spanish. She was heedless of mothers, children, or the elderly in the wake of her accident.
A shocked voice interrupted her outburst.
The solid brick wall, it turned out, was actually the midriff of a human being. A very familiar human being…one she’d just been thinking about.
“Hi!” Andrew chirped nervously, gesturing wildly. “Hi, oh my God, I’m so sorry, oh my God. Hi! Jesus, that looked like it hurt. I mean… shit. I didn’t see you! Are you okay? Oh God, this is so awkward. I swear I’m not stalking you.” Prattling on, Andrew brushed back his non existent hair, the signal of a nervous tic. His voice elevated. “Hell-o. I am sorry. Very, very sorry. Dr. Arnold, are you okay? What are you doing here? I thought you were going on…oh.” Comprehension dawned at last.
Hissing, Seraphina replied, “I’m fine thanks. What are you doing here?”
Andrew’s eyes widened, “I’m here for the games. Same as…you?”
Seraphina rubbed the back of her neck. Fuck. How could this happen? There were miles of pool space around and somehow she had managed to crash into the one person she really didn’t need to be blurring lines around. Andrew towered over her while standing, casting a shadow over the pool, wringing his hands in anxiety.
“Whatever,” Seraphina snipped and moved, turning to swim away from Andrew. Far, far away. Now the pool was not so relaxing. Even five year olds could swim without careening into each other. So much for her swimming career. But to be fair, Andrew had been silent and still; anyone could have hit him.
There was a small splash of water caused by a quick movement. A shout was given. “Wait! Hey, wait up.” Ignore him—this was what Seraphina’s instincts told her. Andrew was her patient, they did not need to be socializing. No thank you. Get back to the lounge chairs, grab a towel, and head back to the room. That was the plan. It was a fucking good plan. But Andrew was stubborn as shit.
“Your suit is down!”
Seraphina’s hands immediately went to her ass, checking and finding that no, her suit wasn’t down. She turned to face Andrew and give him a piece of her mind. Slicing through the water, Andrew appeared behind her, having caught up easily. He gave her a look; one that drove through her as soon as she was aware of what it meant. The way his eyes were trained on hers, pupils wide and blown, gaze flickering to her lips and back up to her eyes…she was a psychologist; she understood body language. The question was, did Andrew even know what he was doing?
Could he tell?
“Not if you don’t want to,” was murmured by Andrew, who seemed tense now.
Awkward. Seraphina shook her head and turned away. She walked towards the edge of the pool, set to get out and ignore him and his loaded gaze, which followed her even when her back was turned. Hungry and peaked, she could feel it. Expanding and rasping at the center of her rib cage, it squeezed the air out of her. She reached the edge and placed her hands on the bright blue tiles. Only umbrellas blocked out Brazilian sunlight. And the shadow of Andrew. Was this some sort of ‘What happens in Vegas situation?’ because she’d never been so tempted to do anything in her life as she was to turn around and taste…
Seraphina looked over her shoulder. Andrew hadn’t moved.
She returned the look.
*****
It couldn’t be at the hotel. Not even if they could get another room just for themselves. The hotel was booked solid anyway. Seraphina didn’t want to shit where she ate. If Jay saw her it was all over; Drew had been his patient before he was hers. Anything could happen and anyone could see.
“Not here,” was all she said once they were out of the pool. Jesus fuck, Andrew was larger on land. How the hell was this going to work?
“But I have my own room,” Andrew tried, motioning towards the eastern side of the resort.
Seraphina cut him off. Andrew was like a God damned puppy; it showed in the slightly wounded look he displayed after Seraphina uttered a firm, “No.”
Humidity generated around them, stifling and unmerciful out of the sanctuary of the water. If they stood here much longer, common sense was going to force them apart and Seraphina wasn’t sure if she’d be grateful or regretful. She would be full of something, that’s for sure. She placed her hands on her hips, widening her stance. On the flipside, Andrew had his hands moving at all times, whether they were rubbing at his clean shaven head or fluttering out of anxiety. She felt it too. This was stepping over a line; a line she didn’t cross. Ever.
“Fine,” she said with a deep exhale, her mouth forming an O. “Meet me in the lobby, twenty minutes.”
“You got a car?” Seraphina asked sharply. “Do you even know where you’re going? It’s not safe out there.”
Turning away from Seraphina, Andrew shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to see.”
What Seraphina saw, however, was Andrew’s back, and everything promised below it.
*****
“A Vespa? You’re taking us out on a Vespa?”
“It’s not just any Vespa, this is a 946.”
“It’s a freaking scooter.”
“Ugh, you know what? Just sit your ass down, okay?”