“Lucky for you, I don’t sleep with my hearing aids in, so you can snore as loud as you want.”
“Man, I bet my last girlfriend wished she had the ability to turn her hearing off. She hated my snoring.”
“I guess it has its perks, at times.” He smiles softly and turns to head up to the loft.
“Good night, Tyler,” I say, and before I can stop myself, I reach for him, as if to give him a hug. I try to cover it up by making it seem like I’m walking into the kitchen instead of toward him, but I don’t think he buys it. There’s a strange energy between us as he turns to climb up to his bedroom. He rustles around for a few minutes before settling on that giant bed. I swallow, trying to think about anything other than how he might look all tangled up in the sheets, sweaty and flushed after I’ve fucked him until he screams.
I really need to rein in this crush on Tyler. It’s not going to make working and living together very comfortable if I’m constantly popping wood every time he’s around.Fucking hell.
As I suspected, the damn couch is not comfortable, so it takes me a while to fall asleep, and when I do, I’m tortured with dreams of a gorgeous Army veteran with tattoos I’m dying to trace with my tongue.
CHAPTER 17
TYLER
The first two weeks on the coast fly by so fast I’m not convinced we didn’t somehow end up in a crazy time warp. It turns out that when I don’t have to bookend my workday sitting in never-ending traffic, I actually really fucking love this job. And working with Sam is amazing. We’ve fallen into a routine, and every day, we get a little more comfortable with each other. The awkwardness of the first night we spent at the cabin passed quickly, both of us motivated to make the situation work. The routine of Sam sleeping in the fancy air bed and me in the loft upstairs has become comfortable, and I like falling asleep knowing he’s just downstairs from me.
Friday afternoon of our second full week out at Ocean Shores, the sun is shining brightly through the windows of the main lodge while Sam enjoys himself swinging the sledgehammer into a wall we’re removing. It’s my turn to take the debris out to the big dumpster. Under the owner’s instructions, we’re keeping everything we think we can repurpose, but unfortunately, there’s still a lot of stuff that needs to go to the landfill. Using the sledgehammer is surprisingly therapeutic, so we’re taking turns with it. I spent about a half hour imagining I was beating the crap out of the Taliban fighter who set the IED that took my hearing. It was almost as good as a therapy session with Derek.
“Hey, Ty, how about doing something fun tonight?” Sam asks toward the end of the day.
“Um, sure. What are you thinking?”
“Bonfire down on the beach! It’s so calm today we shouldn’t waste the opportunity.”
I think for a moment and then wonder why I’m hesitating. It’s not like I have other plans, and a beach bonfire sounds pretty fucking cool.
“Yeah, that sounds awesome. What do we need for that?” I ask.
“I’ll do a grocery run as soon as we’re done here. We’ll want to get things set up before the sun goes down. I’ll grab some hot dogs and buns and the makings for s’mores.”
I smile. Sam’s enthusiasm for all things is infectious. I love the way he’s so naturally positive and optimistic. It’s so different from me—I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, even when things are going great.
We get things cleaned up quickly, and Sam heads to the store while I take a few trips down the beach stairs, ferrying firewood and other supplies. Might as well make myself useful.
A while later, I’ve got things set up, or at least I think they’re set up. It’s not like I have any experience with beach bonfires or making s’mores, but it can’t be that complicated. The sun is starting to head toward the horizon, but it’s still providing enough warmth that I can feel the promise of spring in the air. I hold my face up to it, reveling in the warmth on my skin, when suddenly, I’m overcome with a memory of my mom so strong I have to swallow back tears.
There was a period of time when I was maybe five or six, and Mom must have been doing well since she was there a lot—more than usual. I don’t remember a guy being around, so maybe she was going through a rare period of standing on her own two feet. I recall one afternoon in our shitty apartment, me and Aaron and Mom. She was playing music, which in itself was strange because normally the TV was always blaring in the background. Aaron was lying on the couch, reading a magazine or something. He must have been twelve or thirteen. I was sitting on the floor playing with trucks, and this song came on. “These Are Days” by 10,000 Maniacs. My mom turned up the volume and started to sing, and I just remember both Aaron and me looking at her with our mouths hanging open. It was so unlike her. Her voice was so pure as she sang along with Natalie Merchant. She came over to us from where she’d been standing in the kitchen and grabbed both our hands, and the three of us held hands and danced around our living room. The lyrics are fuzzy in my memory, like they’ve been locked away in some lost, hidden corner of my mind for so long they’re literally covered in dust, but their meaning is seared into my brain.
She sang about being blessed and lucky, about days filled with laughter, and how when you feel the sunlight warm your face, those are the days you’d know how life was meant to be.
I can almost feel their hands in mine, and I can hear the music in my head as plain as day. I close my eyes and let the sun warm my face, like the song says. I let myself get carried away by the memory of my mom as a happy, strong person and of the three of us being together and feeling like an actual family instead of screaming and fighting with each other.
That’s how Sam finds me a few minutes later, sitting on a driftwood log, letting the sun make its way across my face. When a shadow drifts over me, I open my eyes to find him looking at me with an expression that nearly burns me with its intensity. I’ve never seen anyone look at me with so much raw hunger. Reaching out, he cups the side of my face with his hand, stunning me for a second.
“I really want to kiss you right now,” he breathes softly. I can’t hear him over the sound of the ocean, but I feel his voice and see his lips move. Heat spreads through my belly.
“Yeah?” I ask breathlessly. “Then you should do it.”
He doesn’t wait for another invitation, leaning down to place the softest whisper of a kiss on my lips. Pulling back, he searches my eyes before standing and pulling me up with him and kissing me again. This kiss is harder and deeper but not rough. His lips are soft and full, and I feel rather than hear his groan as he pulls me into him. I don’t resist, allowing my body to melt against his. Electricity surges through me, and I’m buzzing with need as I press myself even closer, molding myself to his shape, wanting no space between us.
Finally, we break apart, needing oxygen. Sam rests his forehead against mine as we both catch our breaths.
“Hi,” he whispers, his breath warm on my cheek.
“Um, yeah. Hi.”
We both chuckle, and I’m finding it impossible to remember why I’ve been so desperately trying to resist my attraction to him. Our slightly awkward but still hot-as-fuck hookup a few weeks earlier was nothing but an appetizer if this kiss is anything to go on. My heart is still pounding as he presses his lips softly to my forehead and steps back, turning around and immediately getting to work on building a fire as I plant myself on the sand to watch him.
