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I unzip his jacket and wrap my hands around his body, needing to be closer. Needing his warmth. Needing him.

The ocean waves break behind us with the cadence of a pulse.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Lucien says into my ear.

And I know he’s right.

I know it with a certainty I’ve never felt before. Because he’s here. Because my father knows and didn’t reject me. Because the world didn’t end when I told the truth.

“You make everything better,” I tell him.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, and there are tears in his eyes.

“You’re everything to me, Cam.”

We stand there on the beach, holding each other as the wind tries to pull us apart and the waves crash behind us. The cold scrapes at my face, but I don’t care.

For the first time in my life, I’m not afraid anymore.

38

LUCIEN

Cameron’s palm is pressed against my spine, hot through my T-shirt. We’re tangled together on his bed, and I’m still full from dinner, still riding the comfortable high of being close to him. His sheets smell of sex from yesterday. I’m half on top of him, my face buried in the crook of his neck.

Yesterday morning was different from anything I’d done before. We were face-to-face, Cameron on top of me, and I could watch every shift in his expression as the pleasure built. With Thom, it was always from behind. But looking into Cameron’s eyes while I moved inside him, seeing his face change as he got closer to orgasm, the way his breath caught and his pupils dilated, made me feel closer to him than I’ve ever felt to anyone.

My phone buzzes, and I ignore it. Cameron’s fingers tickle lines across my back, and I don’t want to move, don’t want to break this moment. But it buzzes again. And again.

“You should get that,” Cameron murmurs against my hair.

I groan and roll off him, reaching for the phone. The screen lights up: Gwen.

Shit.

I sit up, swinging my legs off the bed. Cameron shifts behind me, propping himself up on one elbow. His hand finds my back again, a steady presence as I answer.

“Hey.”

“Lucien.” Gwen’s voice is tight. “Where are you?”

“Why?”

“Because Mom and Dad know you’re not at the frat house. They’re looking for you.”

I close my eyes. “I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m not telling you where I am.”

There’s a pause. I can hear her breathing on the other end. I can picture her sitting in her bedroom, trying to decide how hard to push. Cameron’s hand moves in slow strokes up and down my spine.

“Fine,” Gwen says finally. “Whatever. You don’t have to tell me as long as you’re not on the street.”

“I’m not on the street,” I say with some bitterness.

“Good.” Another pause. “I wish I could see you for Christmas though.”