My mouth dries up. My heart skips a beat and my legs clench together involuntarily. Lean muscle is on full display, and my greedy eyes drink it in, noticing details I’ve never paid attention to before. Like the cut of the V at his hips, and the smattering of dark hair trailing down from his belly button to the waist of the joggers he’s wearing.
“Cam?”
I blink my eyes a couple of times, my gaze darting up to find an amused yet slightly confused expression on Beckett’s face. “What? Sorry?”
His lips quirk into a small grin. He’s got good lips.Wait, where the heck did that come from?Jesus Christ, I need to stop thinking about Beckett’s lips. I blame Lily for putting these insane ideas in my head.
“I was just asking if you’d eaten or if we should grab something on our way to the beach.”
“I could eat.”
Mentally, I give my head a shake. Stop being a weirdo, Cam. Easier said than done as Beckett pulls a long sleeve tee over his head, and my eyes shamelessly drop to his stomach, drinking in the last look at his abs before they’re covered.
It probably should feel strange to be ogling my best friend. Well, stranger than it already does. It’s not like I’ve never realized Beckett’s a handsome guy. Of course he is. I’m not blind. But I can’t help feeling as if I’m seeing things just a little bit differently now.
Goddamn it, Lily. What have you done?
Chapter thirteen
Beckett
Something’s different. I don’t know what, or why it’s changed, but Cam’s not acting like herself.
There’s no mistaking the way her body is reacting to seeing me without a shirt, but it’s not like that’s never happened before. The shirtless part, not the reaction. That was definitely new. We’ve been to the beach together many times. Hell, just the other night she saw me in my boxers.
So why do I see something that looked suspiciously like arousal on her face?
Part of me is thrilled. Who gives a fuck why. If Cam is looking at me that way, it might mean she’s wanting to change the dynamic between us. But then, part of me is worried. If this is some sort of stage in her grief cycle, or anything other than legitimate desire, I don’t want it. She won’t want it. And as much as I wish Cam and I could be more than friends, I promised myself long ago I would never risk our friendship for anything more than everything.
I walk past her, careful not to touch her. “Why don’t you get changed and I’ll figure out some food.”
It’s hard, but I don’t let myself glance over my shoulder to see if she’s watching me. Instead, I do exactly what I said and head to the kitchen and open the fridge. Pulling out some leftovers and the makings of a salad, I quickly throw together some dinner.
By the time Cam joins me, whatever moment passed between us in the hallway is long gone. We eat quickly, then head out for a walk down to the beach. Along the way, she fills me in on how the day went with Kat’s dress shopping and tells me about the restaurant they stopped at for lunch in Westport.
“Seriously, the food was incredible. I haven’t had ramen that good, since…okay, since ever.”
I chuckle at how she’s raving about the food. “Still a sucker for a good noodle soup, I see.”
She gently shoves my arm. “Don’t tease. You’d be just as obsessed if you’d tried it.”
We reach the path that runs along the waterfront and connects to the beach and head out. To the right, waves are gently rolling into shore, the sound rhythmic and calming. We fall into a companionable silence and just walk. Every so often, her arm brushes against mine and it takes a lot of restraint to not weave my fingers with hers.
In my gut, I feel like we’re on a precipice. Things could change, or they could stay the same. Either way, I’m more aware of Cam than I ever have been. The slope of her neck when she pulls her hair up, twisting it into a messy bun, the way she hums under her breath, probably thinking no one can hear, but I do. And of course, her laugh. It’s rare but beautiful. I want to bottle it up and save it for moments when everything feels wrong because her happiness makes me feel so right.
“Have you ever considered living somewhere other than Dogwood Cove?”
Her question pierces the silence and is unexpected, to say the least. I take a minute before I answer, weighing my words carefully. “Have I thought about it, yes. Do I have an intention of leaving in the near future? No.”
She makes a sound of acknowledgment, then falls quiet again. But now I’m curious.
“Why do you ask?”
Out of the corner of my eye I see her slight shoulders lift and fall. “I’m not sure. I mean, you know me. I had plans of living in a big city somewhere, immersing myself in the energy and vibe that only a city can give you. But then I went back to Cliveden. I guess while I was there and dreaming of escaping, I lost sight of the fact that there’s a different energy and vibe in a smaller town. No less powerful and fulfilling, just different.”
“You could go anywhere now,” I say carefully, feeling uncertain about how to respond.
“I know. And that’s a strange feeling. For all that I wanted freedom, now that I’ve got it, it doesn’t feel as good as I thought it would.”
