I shift my weight slightly, trying to get ahead of it before it becomes obvious.
Charlotte doesn’t notice. She’s still focused, lifting another section of hair.
My pulse kicks up.
Seriously?
I lean forward just enough to rest my forearms on my thighs, aiming for casual, as I cover the tent in my shorts.
My hands settle there—and stay there.
Better.
Charlotte keeps working, muttering under her breath as she trims. She steps in a little closer, her knee brushing mine again like it means nothing.
To her, it doesn’t.
To me, this just got complicated.
I keep my eyes locked on the horizon and focus on breathing steady, waiting for it to pass before she has any reason to look down.
She trims another section, then leans back to check her work, head tilted as she compares both sides.
“Hold on,” she says.
I don’t move.
Partly because she told me not to. Mostly because moving right now would be a mistake.
Her fingers slide through the front again, adjusting the strands. Then she straightens and steps back.
“I think that’s even.”
Relief hits fast, and I stand up immediately—too fast.
Charlotte watches me as I shake the loose hair free. Strands cling to my neck and chest, and I brush them away quickly.
“How does it feel?” she asks.
I run my hands through it once, not paying attention to the result.
“It’s perfect. Thanks.”
Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Doesn’t matter. I need to get out of here.
“I’m going to rinse off at the freshwater pool. Get the loose hair off.”
She nods. “Good idea.”
I let out a quiet breath of a laugh and head for the trees before she can say anything else. Right now, more than anything, I need distance.
“I was thinking about swimming. Mind if I join you?”
I stop mid-step.
Fuck.
For a second, I just stand there with my back to her, staring down the path toward the freshwater pool. Being alone out there had sounded perfect about five seconds ago. Apparently that plan just changed.
