Uncomfortable

[nineteen]

I cannot have a "goodnight" after that. I toss and turn for over an hour before I give up.

I silently slip out of my bed and open the sliding glass door. The air is still chilly, but I don't care anymore.

I burrow under my sweatshirt on the lounge chair and listen to the waves. The crests shimmer as they catch the moonlight. It's just miles and miles of nothing. Deep blue nothing.

Something doesn't sit right with me. Ava's words just hung in the air indefinitely. I couldn't get them out of my mind even though we talked for another hour in the hot tub. The way Alden's entire demeanor changed as soon as she said them.

Maybe I don't fit into Alden's dreams. Maybe he doesn't see me in his future.

And what the hell am I even upset about? I shouldn't expect that anyway. We've been hanging out for two weeks. We're not together. We've kissed one and one third times.

"Whit, are you okay?"

I turn my neck slowly. Alden's leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, in heather gray pajama pants with penguins all over them. His hair is disheveled on one side, but he runs his hand through it to flatten it.

I shrug. "I'm a little okay and a little not okay."

He half chuckles, half scoffs under his breath. "That's better than 'I'm fine'." He comes around the chair and sits next to me hesitantly.

My head follows his slow, sleepy movements. His legs stretch out long in front of him, and he crosses his ankles as he leans back.

He finds my hand in the ball I've curled up into under my legs and runs his thumb over my knuckles. "Hey," he says softly.

We both move at the same time. It wasn't one or the other who initiated it. We both needed it. Wanted it. He pulls slightly on my arm before his other hand falls gently on my thigh, drawing me closer. I shift and turn. My sweatshirt pops up off my legs as they straddle Alden's lap.

We just stare and take each other in.

His entire upper body tenses when I skim my palms up his abs and chest. I let my hands linger against his broad shoulders before I take my time with each finger, pressing into the solidness of him.

His warm hands caress my thighs up and down, pushing my flimsy pajama shorts up to my hips.

"Alden, will you tell me your dreams?"

"I have lots of them," he says. His dark, hazy gaze holds steady on me.

I'm not sure either of us could look away if we tried.

"What's the one? Your life one."

He inhales. "I want to grow grapes. Make wine. Own my own vineyard."

My heart shoots into my throat. I smile so big it hurts my cheeks. It's so Alden. How could I have never guessed that?

"That's a perfect dream." I place my hands over his forearms and caress them as he continues to stroke my legs. "Tell me what it looks like."

"Acres and acres of vines," he tells me. "I want a house on a hill that overlooks the entire vineyard. I want to have a small, intimate hotel so that I can share it with people. A garden. A pool. I'll have a restaurant and a spa, a horse stable. A cellar filled with barrels of wine. Whites, reds, rosés. I want to ship it all over the world. And I want people to enjoy it and drink it with people they love."

"That sounds amazing. Can I be in your dream?" I ask.

"If you want to be, yes." Alden laces his fingers through mine and kisses the bottom of my palm. "I would love that."