“TMI, Noah. But thanks.”
I look up at the beach, noting Chris has left, and it looks like Aaron is lying on my blanket, reading one of my books, though I can’t tell which one from here. I make my way up to him, and notice when I get there it looks like he’s reading Rina Kent’sGod of Malice.I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Where’s Chris?”
“Left,” he says plainly. “Called an Uber and went home.”
“Home like the beach house or—”
“Home to the city to visit his boyfriend, apparently.”
My mouth falls open as I remember his touch. The way he looked at me and said he thought I was someone else.
I think I knew then. I just didn’t want to think about it.
But after seeing my brother and those bags under his eyes…
Chris is Bella’s neighbor. He’s seen me—and probably Noah—a few times coming and going.
And maybe he knows more than he lets on.
Maybe he refuses Bella’s flirtations, because it’s notBellahe wants. And judging by the sadness in his voice when he said I reminded him of someone else…
I don’t think it’s me he wants, either.
Part of me wants to call Noah and ask, but I don’t think it would do any good right now, so I don’t. If Noah is the boyfriend Chris is talking about… if he’s headinghometo see him… I don’t want to get in the way of that. Even if I’m dying to know the details.
“Oh,” I say as I take a seat next to Aaron.
“So, no party tomorrow then,” I say. Aaron shrugs.
“We can have our own party.” He scoots closer to me. His gaze finds mine as he styles his hand on my hip and pulls me closer. I let him, because I like it. I like how he touches me. I never want him to stop touching me.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He smirks. “You just did, baby.”
I chuckle, focusing my gaze on him. “If we had met in a coffee shop, if you had picked up my order by accident, would you have asked me out?”
Aaron smiles softly. “Fuck yes, I would have.”
I shake my head. “You wouldn’t have waited two weeks to text or call?”
He laughs. “Um… no. I would’ve asked you to dinner to make up for stealing your coffee.”
“Can I ask you a question?” he asks, tracing his fingertips along my sun-kissed hip.
I nod.
“Would you have said yes?” he asks. “If you didn’t know who I was.”
His voice is soft, almost sad. “If I was just some regular guy who got the coffee orders mixed up and not… Aaron Everett, son of a hotel mogul, would you have said yes?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “I didn’t know who you were before your Dad’s party. For all I knew, you were a regular guy.” I lie down on my side, scooting closer to him. We barely fit on this towel, but I don’t care.
“And you are a regular guy,” I say.
“No, I’m not,” he says, his voice sad. “Regular guys don’t pay pretty boys forty grand to pretend to love them.”
