He cleans up in the bathroom while I slip back into my sundress and wait for room service. Thankfully he comes out just as they knock, and I replace him in the bathroom. I do not need to see the look on the housekeeper’s face when they replace our sex-damp sheets.
When I return, Cam—with his hat returned to his head—is sitting on one of the chairs on the balcony, lean legs stretched out in front of him. His laptop is open on the table.
As I approach, I take in his background image. It’s from ourhike the other day, but it’s a picture I haven’t seen before. A panoramic view of the abandoned monastery, with the sea peeking above the rocky horizon. My back is to the camera and I’m off to the side a bit, but my head is slightly turned and my smile is visible. This so doesn’t make me feel things deep in my belly.No sirree, not at all.
I snag two water bottles from the mini fridge before plopping down in the vacant chair at the outdoor table. Thank goodness the balcony is shaded, because when Cam showed up, I abandoned my phone and laptop completely in favor of our littleendorphins-inducing creativity boost.
When I check my phone, I find three notifications. All texts from Brooks.
Brooks
Yo, Beck! Good to hear from you
Thought you might have run off with a Greek god
Now *that* would have been good ‘for the plot’
I chuckle under my breath.
“What’s so funny?” Cam asks, eagerness flashing in his eyes.
Damn, this man is beautiful from every angle. Above me, below me, beside me. I’ll take him any way I can get him.
I set my phone in my lap and shift so I’m looking at him head-on. “My writing partner, Brooks.”
His brow, the one with the scar, raises in question, and his jaw ticks, but he doesn’t say anything.
“He lives in LA.”
At that comment, his shoulders visibly relax, as if knowing Brooks lives thousands of miles from me is a relief. “How long have you two been…”
“Writingtogether?”
“Yeah.” He exhales and scratches at the scruff on his jaw.
“A couple of years. We met through Tyler.”
It’s subtle, but he bristles at the sound of my ex’s name.
“Brooks was working as a songwriter then, but he’s been trying to break into screenwriting. He’s really the only writing friend I have. We used to meet at a coffee shop not far from my apartment and write side by side. We’d proofread for each other, bounce ideas back and forth, or just commiserate.”
“Sounds like a really great friend,” he says, his expression soft and warm.
I shoot off a text to Brooks, hinting at the plot twist of my own life I can’t wait to dive into with him, then set my phone on the table.
Cam clears his throat and removes his hat. For a moment, I’m dumbstruck watching the way he rakes his fingers through his hair.
“How are you so confident in bed?” He nods at the open patio door. “That sensory-deprivation shit was one of the hottest things I’ve ever done. But—and please don’t take this the wrong way—you’re so young. How are you so…”
“Were you going to sayexperienced?”
Kind eyes meet mine. “Maybe?” His voice quivers with uncertainty. “Have you been with a lot of guys? It’s okay if you have. I’m not judging.”
Wow, a guy who isn’t judging my count. That’s refreshing.
Not that he deserves an explanation, but he’s evidently earned it.
“Not really. I had sex for the first time in high school. Then I was with Tyler. Then you last year.” An easy smile plays at the corners of my mouth. “I hooked up with a couple of guys not long after I moved to New York, but I haven’t been with anyone in several months.”
