I rest my head against the cool glass of the tinted window, letting it penetrate further into my skin than the a.c.

This movement allows me to get sucked into the refreshingly slow-paced scene before me.

Travelers and locals mingled along the walkways half made of sand, the former stopping to patronize little stalls each a considerable distance away from the other.

Behind them, the distinct outline of the sapphire sea meets the bright blue skies clearer than any I had seen in the polluted Lagos atmosphere.

An itch tingles along with my fingertips but I stop myself from pressing the button as I remember the unforgiving wind when we had stepped out of the airport.

It wasn't anything extreme but the cold nip at my skin was a stark contrast to the tropical caress I had been expecting.

Isren shifts his fingers and I remember my left hand is still intertwined with his.

For some embarrassing reason I was producing a lot of sweat from my palms and the a.c only made it slightly bearable.

He had yet again adjusted his fingertips so cool air could get in through the cracks of our handlock.

Fortunately, the ego-depleting experience comes to an end as we pull in front of a hotel I had only seen in the magazines.

"Drop us off here, don't worry about parking," Isren says and our car rounds the entrance.

An olive-skinned woman with mixed local and foreign accents checks us in.

"Welcome to Dugong Beach Lodge, and we trust you'll have a wonderful stay," she says with a plastic smile.

Since we stepped in she had been eyeing me with the familiar look I had seen many times in church from people whose upturned noses deserved to be in the mud.

Isren ushers us to our rooms and I cast one last glance over my shoulder to see her chewing on a wad of gum as she watched our retreating figures.

I forget all about the nasty woman when we reach a pier. It overlooked a crystal body of water and trees I had never seen before ran from the ground up, some bearing flowers in splashes of pink, cream, and marigold.

The sound of waves crashing against each other makes me feel like I'm ten again and listening to the enchanting songs of seashells I had dug out from the sand.

Even Isren who always had a look of boredom at the mundane luxuries that were his everyday life seemed spellbound by the beauty of it all.

My mouth hangs in a little o when we pass the inner lounge where a thin bark curved in multiple swirls up to the ceiling in the far right corner.

The jet lag was beginning to set in and I longed to sit on the raffia armchairs but I kept moving with Isren in hopes that we'd reach our room soon enough.

Finally, we stop at door E57 and Isren steps forward to unlock it.

Our suite looks like a hut but with extra oomph like the pumpkin after Cinderella's fairy godmother did some magic on it.

The woven ceiling is supported by thick bamboo sticks all around it with a little stub hanging in the center of the room.

It was used to support the bright linen canopy draped above the bed.

Bed. There was only one bed.

"Uh, there's only-" I say but an equally astonished Isren interrupts me.

"There must have been a mix-up, this wasn't the chalet I booked," he says embarrassed at the entire situation.

I suck in my lip slowly glancing at the bed again.

He didn't intend for this to happen and if we stuck to our side of the bed nothing had to happen.

I was his girlfriend, right?

I smile to myself, liking how the adjective had a little ring to it.

My feet move against my brain in the direction of my heart, and I rush to stop him.

He's halfway down the hallway when I reach him and he turns at the mention of his name.

"You don't need to come with me I'll sort it out," he says, his dark eyes looking into mine.

I shake my head and grip his bicep so he doesn't bolt off assuming I was uncomfortable by it all.

The contact sends tingles up my skin and the same fire from our kiss kindles once again in my core.

Still, I keep it there and he seems to notice too.

"Did you want to tell me something?" he asks and I nod my head.

"The room is fine, it doesn't mean we have to...you know," I say feeling suddenly embarrassed to say the words.

"I know what...?" he says and I groan averting my gaze.

"What exactly do you think people do on shared beds, Mimi?" Isren asks but I catch some teasing in his tone.

My head snaps in his direction and I land a punch on his nicely shaped chest.

"Jerk," I mutter as I spin on my heels.

But he pulls me by the waist and my heart does a somersault right then and there. "Oya sorry, deal," he says extending his right hand, while his left fingers remain glued to the side of my torso.

I take his hand and we shake on it before heading back to the room.

An inner voice nags me with the same words my mom had me memorize:

Can a man scoop fire into his lap without his clothes being burned?

"You go ahead and have a shower, then we can go for dinner," Isren says, saving me for a minute from the uncomfortable sensation in my gut.

"They don't have room service?" I ask and he slides his designer plimsolls off while he answers.

"It's available but I thought you'd want some fresh air. If you're tired I can ring them up though."

The thought of him being near while I showered frightened me for reasons more to do with my body image but I knew he hadn't rested as much as I had all day so I go for the latter option.

"Just call them, order anything for me," I say before exiting into the bathroom.

The lock clicks behind me and I glance once more at the door to make sure it's still opaque.

When I'm sure my eyes are no longer playing tricks on me I begin my habit of contemplative rinsing.

Pulling my clothes off, my mind travels to the dark corners where I push questions I didn't want to know the answer to just yet.

So far I had been savoring my rebellious streak, but the church girl in me was scared -of the changes and if I'd one day end up far off the deep end.

But also mad. Mad that I wasn't allowed to have as much fun as the irreligious teens I knew.

Plop.

I sigh and pick up the bar of soap I had been working through my eco-styled hair.

When all the gel is finally drained off my back I begin some actually washing.

All for what? I lifetime of boring services and fake satisfaction?

No -it was for fear of hell and that at the worst moment God would decide to snatch me from the earth and I'd fall headlong into those fiery pits for living however I wanted.

Still, the curiosity that burned inside me was getting too much to handle.

The unholiest thing I had done was kiss Isren and all I knew about sex was from a 5-minute long video I accidentally found ten years ago.

I wasn't going to count the novels that shall not be named because my mother would disown me if she ever found out.

I sigh to myself.

The pattering of the shower stops and I reach for the towel.

Once I've wrapped it around me, I groan as I remember I had not brought in my nightwear.

Slowly I twist the knob, to find a shirtless Isren turn to look at me.

"I hope you don't mind I usual-oh shoot," he says, hand flying to cover the eyes that had doubled in size at my hunched figure.

I use the opportunity to admire his chest while I walked to the dresser.

He was carved to perfection with well-defined lines across his torso, I felt glad that if one thing in my life happened just like in the books it was his incredibly good looks.

I felt like an ugly duckling next to him but happy it wasn't the other way around.

The door creaks, and I'm surprised he still has his hand on his face so I don't bother heading back in the bathroom.

In a single movement, I slip the silk gown over my shoulder and let the towel simultaneously come crashing down.

"Uhh are you ready now?" he says forcing his arm to stay up.

I nod before I remember he can't see me and do something I could only blame on his chivalry and my exposure to his abs.

I saddle up against his chest and pull his hands back.

"Done," I say giving him the one ammunition I had with guys.

His pupils dilate at the sight of my dimpled grin and he snakes his arm around my waist so I'm closer than I thought possible.

I watch as a new fire burns in his eyes and he stoops his head lower. "That's better."

Excitement bubbled within me as I angle my head higher and his lips envelope mine for the second time today.

Our pace is much faster than the last time and I find myself enjoying the smoothness skin as I skim my fingers across his chest.

Everything felt too good to be forbidden, that we only pull apart at the sound of knocking on our door.

I try to make my panting sound softer while he goes to answer the room service worker but fail miserably.

Even then it doesn't stop me from smiling like a Cheshire cat at turn of events.

Sharing a room wasn't such a bad idea after all.