Wet: Part 2 by S. Jackson Rivera Read Free Book Online

looked great on her. He thought about it—everything she wore looked great on her. She had a unique sense of style, classic, crisp, clean . . . modest—he leaned against the doorjamb and admired the view as she put her foot up on the chair to fasten the strap on her sandal. She did the same on the other foot.
    “Mm.” He grunted to show his appreciation. “You look very nice . But I can’t believe you’re already dressed. I thought there was some universal rule. Girls are required to take hours getting ready.” He thought of all the hours of his life he’d never get back, waiting for girls to get ready just to go out. It annoyed him. He just wanted to eat or go get a drink. In most cases, he’d already had them. He didn’t care what they looked like anymore.
    “It’s easy to be fast here,” she said. “I hate cold showers—no lingering there. I get clean. I get out. I don’t have a hair dryer—so drip dry.” She pointed to her still damp hair. “Also—no curling iron—this is as good as it gets. And even if I tried on everything I have, looking for the perfect outfit, it would take me all of one minute.”
    “If you miss them, why didn’t you bring a curling iron and more clothes?”
    “Kind of the same reason I don’t have pajamas.” She laughed.
    “You wore panties and a sports bra to bed before I gave you some of my T-shirts.” He snorted, remembering the first night they’d slept in her apartment after the Mario incident. He’d raced to her side during one of her nightmares, and when he climbed onto her bed to calm her, he’d found her sleeping in her clothes because she didn’t want him to find her in her usual night attire.
    “You packed minimalistic to meet the airline’s weight limit.”
    “Exactly. My gear alone weighed thirty-four pounds. I had to make some sacrifices. No pajamas, bare minimum clothes, and no hair dryer or curling iron.”
    “You could have paid for an extra bag.”
    “Pfft. Fifty dollars? The sacrifices haven’t been that bad.” Her incredulous expression turned to disappointment. “Except in times like these.”
    She put her hands up, as if showcasing herself, but surrendering at the same time.
    “Mm.” He grunted again.
    “Thanks,” she said with a giggle. She finally got a look at him . He wore dark blue jeans—he always wore jeans in the evenings—a contrast after seeing him all day, every day in nothing but swim trunks or board shorts. Always the same fit, his Levis varied from faded with ripped knees, to brand new dark blue or black, but they always looked a little too good on him.
    His slate blue button up shirt with collar was a soft, shiny, fabric. He’d rolled the sleeves up, as usual. His shirttails hung out, untucked—he never tucked his shirttails, but it suited him, accentuating the long outline of his form from his broad shoulders to his slim hips. He looked nice, almost dressed up, but still casual enough for the island. Rhees actually stared for a few seconds. He looked so good, she felt underdressed and out of his league.
    “What time is it?” She wanted time to find something better to wear, but then she surrendered to the lost cause. She had nothing better since her brown dress had given up the ghost. She frowned. 
    “We have time.” He walked into her bedroom and lounged on the twin bed. “Rhees? What’s wrong?”
    “I need new clothes.” She shook her head. With the exception of a few shops that carried souvenir T-shirts, there were no clothing stores on the island. “I packed for three weeks. I’ve been wearing the same few things for months. Not only is my wardrobe lacking variety, things are wearing out.”
    “Did you hear me when I told you how nice you look? I could have easily said you look beautiful—I should have. It’d be more accurate.”
    “It’s just . . . no one is going to believe we’re really together.” She sat on the edge of her bed.
    “Don’t say that.” He sat up. “If anyone has trouble