With a nod, I hop up and stand at the side of the bed.
“Fine, Noah Calhoun,” he volleys. “If we’re living in a fiction novel, then ask me what I want.”
I gather my hair into a ponytail at the top of my head and go for a southern accent. “What do you want?”
He sits up high on the bed and twists so he’s angled my way. “I want my dad to stop riding my ass about taking over the business. I want to pursue photography full time.”
Rounding the end of the bed, I say, “Then do it.”
“It’s not that?—”
I press two fingers to his lips, silencing him. “Before my dad…” I clear my throat and try again. “My dad once told me not to live my life for others. To do what makesmehappy. He said life is more fulfilling that way.”
Cam rears back and opens his mouth, ready to protest, I’m sure, but I shoot him a glare.
“He never said it was easier.”
“Are you sure you’re only twenty-two?” he asks, nipping at my fingers.
I pull away and give him a flirty smile. “What can I say? I’m mature for my age.” Not by choice, but out of necessity. It’s the kind of thing that happens to kids of addicts. After the age of ten, I was mostly on my own. I had no choice but to grow up.
He tilts his head and presses his lips together, contemplating me. But I ignore the scrutiny. Instead, I retreat to the bathroom, where I gather my remaining belongings.
“What about you?” he calls.
“What about me?” I ask, holding my toothbrush in front of my mouth.
“What do you do in LA?” He laughs, though it’s the nervous kind. “Oh my god, please don’t tell me you’re a famous model or an actress and I’m an idiot who doesn’t know who you are.”
I finish brushing my teeth, grab my bag, exit the bathroom,and think about fucking with him, then decide against it. “I’m a writer. Well, a wannabe writer.” I frown. “And definitely not famous.” Although I have been photographed by paparazzi while out with Tyler.
“What do you mean,wannabe?”
“I am writing. A book, actually. But that doesn’t pay the bills. Not yet, at least. So I moonlight as a freelance editor. And I’ll probably have to pick up another job when I get home.” Even if I work two paying jobs, I’m not sure I can afford my own place.
“What is your book?—”
“Hey.” I cut him off. I’m not in the mood to get into the nitty gritty. “What time is it? We should get back to the dock, yeah?”
With a frown, he throws his legs over the side of the bed. “Yeah, sure.” He strides to the bathroom, buck naked, and closes the door.
Cam’s mood changes somewhere between the hotel and the dock. I barely know him, so it shouldn’t bother me so much that he’s gone quiet and contemplative, but it does. He owes me nothing. And wasn’t I the one avoiding intimacy by faking sleep last night?
“Are you okay?” I ask, rolling and stretching my wrist. Oh yeah, it’s definitely sore this morning. But hella worth it. “Are you worried about seeing your ex? At least there’s only one more day left.”
Thank fuck I only have to share one more sleep with Tyler. Hey, maybe Hayden and I can switch. Yeah right.
Cam shifts in the taxi until he’s facing me, his lips downturned. “We shouldn’t have done that.” He drops his attention to his lap, fiddling with the hem of his board shorts.
Okay, I did not see that coming.
“We just broke up with our partners.” Now he keeps his gaze averted and his voice low. “It was reckless. I kind of feel like I took advantage of you. We were both in shitty places last night. I’m sorry.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, my voice a little too loud for such a confined space. Is this like buyer’s remorse or something?
Sighing, he finally makes eye contact again, but the pitying look does nothing but fire me up.
“Joey,” he tries again. “What we did last night was, um, completely gratifying, but we just—I just,” he corrects himself, “shouldn’t have jumped in so suddenly. We were angry and not in our right minds. Plus, we don’t even know each other.”
