Her breath tickles my skin. I shouldn’t have asked, but I need to know if any part of who I am could fit what she’s looking for.
“I’d like for him to be intelligent. A good communicator. Kind to others. Funny without being mean. A good friend. Pushes me to be better. Those were all things that were lacking in my last relationships.”
I’d like to think I can make others laugh, but am I all of those things? I don’t know.
“You’ll find him,” I say, trying to force confidence into my voice.
She’ll find him, and I’ll be happy for her. Happy for her, and sad for the loss of something great.
“You seem sure,” she murmurs.
“I am.”
I fold an arm under my head, staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes bore a hole in the side of my head, but I can’t turn to look at her. Not right now. Not when she’s touching me, but this isn’t real in the way I want it to be. Not when she is the only thing in my life that matters.
Eventually, her breathing evens out and her hand falls limp on my chest, but my mind never quiets. Restless thoughts keeping me awake far later than usual—at least since Sofía started sleeping in my room.
One thought chases me until I finally fall into a pitiful sleep: When we return home in a few days, would she be open to something more?
Chapter 27
sofía
Jett crashes onto the bed—a wild, frantic look in his eyes—wrecking my neatly folded clothing and packing system.
“My shenanigan,” he shrieks.
I pull a pair of shorts from beneath him, refolding the denim and placing it in my suitcase. I’m exhausted from the final day of filming, having spent all day driving around to find a platypus. We were eventually successful, but the heat and long hoursin the car frayed my nerves, even after taking the whole day yesterday to relax.
I’m on edge because in forty-eight hours, our stupid deal expires, and I’ll be left with a shit ton of things to handle. My never-ending to-do list. Preparing for the release of the first episode. Squashing the crush I’ve developed for my boss.
“I forgot about the…thingI planned, but then I saw our calendar,” he continues, handing me a top wedged beneath his abdomen. “We leave in an hour.”
“We fly home tomorrow. We need to pack.” I take the clothing, my heartbeat thumping in my ears as our fingers graze. “I figured you canceled that.”
“Nope.” Plucking the shirt Charlie made from the pile, he dangles it in front of me. “Wear this.”
“No.” Embarrassment floods my cheeks, and I snatch it away. “I will not.”
“Please?” My resolve melts into a puddle when his gaze softens and he swipes his thumb against my wrist. Does he recognize how easily I turn into goo around him? “Couples wear matching outfits.”
One look, and I’m folding like a camp chair. If I’m going to agree, I may as well do so with dramatics. I sigh with gusto. “Fine, but I’m bringing a backup shirt in case this one magically falls off the side of a cliff.”
Jett laughs, and the sound ripples along my skin, goose bumps forming on my arms. He slips his shirt on, far too proud to wear the monstrosity. He can never know how handsome he is right now—satisfied smile, ballcap twisted backward, a golden glow to his skin from our pool day. I throw a tank top under mine and stuff two spare shirts in my bag in case thisshenaniganinvolves children. I will not be explaining this to any youths.
An hour later, I’m standing on a random street corner in Cairns, wearing theSugar Titsshirt, with a satisfied version ofJett beside me. A strand of hair whips in front of his face, and he pushes it away, that grin of his never faltering, even when I stomp on his toe so he stops staring at my breasts.
“Sorry,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “The words are a beacon, and then I remember I know what they look like beneath, and…sorry.”
That might be the most adorable way someone has ever complimented my boobs. The most genuine, for sure.
“They are pretty great,” I confirm, bumping him with my hip. “Now, where’s our ride?”
Jett lifts an arm and points at a van whipping down the street, a tiny magnetic sign on the side donning a pair of binoculars.
“I am not getting into a nondescript white van,” I say, digging my heels into the pavement as Jett wraps a hand around my bicep and drags me forward.
I still can’t believe I let him convince me we should wear the insane shirts Charlie made. But I willnotbe persuaded to get into a white van in a different country, where the plan is to go out into the wilderness.
