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“I’m feeling many things,” Gio grumbles and plays with a strand of my hair.

“You called me your lady earlier,” I say as I trace the lines of his abs. Grinning, I ask, “Does that make you my man?”

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giovanni

Fancy Salamis

For the last week of Sophia’s stay, the days move too fast, like we’re hurtling toward a lifetime of bliss or an existential crisis. Something manic is between us, but we’re too high on testing the waters of love while binging on lust to slow down.

We act like we’re in high school, feral and unrestrained, stealing kisses in dark corners and making out in empty rooms. When our roommates are asleep, we enjoy X-rated midnight swims under the moonlight. Other nights, we end up on the beach, humping to the sound of crashing waves. Then we use the outdoor shower to wash away the sand and thoughts of the outside world.

On Saturday morning, my good mood encounters shaky ground when I receive a text from my secret contact. She warns me that Adam is back in town, and at the news, I immediately melt down.

Oh, fuck no. This cannot be happening.

The panic leads to highlighting the next problem in this fragile house of cards that Sophia and I have built. I’ll need to admit my worst sin—that I’ve purposely been keeping her from Adam.

I promise myself I’ll make it up to her, that I’ll drive her to his doorstep if that’s what she wants, but not today. No, I need this last glorious weekend in her presence before things burn down. It’s the most selfish thing I’ll ever do.

A knot of anxiety is lodged in the base of my neck. I keep rolling my head to relieve the straining pressure. But I know the only thing that will make it go away is telling her she belongs with me and no one else. That admission alone could send her running in the other direction. Even though I don’t like it, I’m fully aware we’re still playing in her rebound territory.

Feeling edgy, I squeeze the steering wheel of the Jeep until my knuckles turn white. Beside me, Sophia bobs her head to a song about sweet lies.

The universe is mocking me.

I shift in my seat as I drive into the parking lot for the trailhead. It’s quieter here, farther away from the tourist loop or any prying eyes.

It’s the second Saturday I haven’t mentioned Adam’s name or made an extravagant plan to hunt him down. I know I’m being delusional, but I’m hopeful that Sophia’s so into the idea of us, there’s no reason to find Adam anymore. So far, she hasn’t mentioned him either.

Hell, we haven’t even talked about Roman again. We haven’t had to. Like Sophia strategically planned it, her public orgasm stunt did the trick.

Roman’s been flushed down the bowels of social media. He was easily drowned out by the overwhelming noise celebrating Sophia’s brave display of sexuality and our now-confirmed relationship, which elevated our social-media views and shares over his thinly veiled drama.

I’m damn proud of my hell kitten. She took control, creating her own narrative, and the world finally saw what I knew all along. She’s a woman to be reckoned with, one who’s confident in her sexual and feminine power.

“It’s pretty here.” Sophia releases her seat belt when I park.

“The waterfall at the top of the mountain is even better.” I jump out and pop the Jeep’s roof panels back into place.

“It’s on top of the mountain?” She looks to me with concern.

“Don’t worry, I’ll blindfold you.” I chuckle.

“You might need to because I’m still recovering from being stranded in the farm truck.” She frowns at the view as I open the trunk’s gate and tug out our backpacks.

“We can take a beach day instead,” I say.

“No.” She slices a hand through the air. “I’m sucking up my fear to kiss you next to a waterfall. It’s my new goal.”

“I’ll tell you about my goals later.”

I finger the strap of her top. It’s the first day I’ve seen her in something other than a sundress or bathing attire, and honestly, the hiking boots, biker leggings, and midi tank are affecting me. They leave nothing to the imagination. And don’t get me started on the baseball cap. Long, thick braids rest on each shoulder. I pick up one and play with the wispy end, rolling it between my fingers.

She laughs. “Maybe our goals can merge?” She steps toe-to-toe and bumps her chest against mine.

“I love a little aggressive merging,” I tease.