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Tori: Think of the endgame.
Cat: Exactly. You can’t give up after a single set-back. It’s like the soft launch, remember? So there’s time to fix things.
Tori: You are an intelligent, sexy, single woman!
Jules shuts her eyes and imagines the endgame. Her and Cameron. Dating. Hanging out outside of work. The ache in her chest stretches, ready for fulfillment.
So the car ride over was a failure, it’s not the end of the world. She’s still here, and Cameron’s still here, and she’s got her plan and a whole week to make things happen. He did say not to worry about the things she said in the car. If she wants to move forward, she’ll have to trust he meant it.
She releases her breath and texts her friends back.
Jules: You’re right. Going to try again.
Tori: Hell yeah!
Tori: Be proactive! Not reactive!
Cat: Good luck. You’re an amazing person and Cameron’s going to see that.
Jules: :) :) :)
Jules puts her phone away and stares out at the water again. She takes another deep breath, then turns on her heel and heads to the bathroom to freshen up.
***
After splashing water on her face and running a brush through her hair, Jules paces her room for a reserved six minutes before finding the courage to say screw you to the incessant prickling like ants across her shoulders. Considering the last time she’d been brave with a man she ended up abruptly dumped by her partner of four years, she’s pretty proud of it only taking six minutes.
She marches down the corridor to Cameron’s room and knocks on the door which is propped open by a doorstop.
‘Come in!’
She pushes through into a room that’s a mirrored copy of her own. And a good thing too, because it means she has all her brain power to focus on the fact that Cameron isn’t wearing a shirt.
Jules’s insides fizz as her gaze travels unbidden over Cameron’s body. Beneath the loose polos he favours for work, this man has been hiding abs. Like, proper, defined abs.
Holy shit. She wants to run her hands over those ridges, then use her tongue to lick along that trail of hair down to where his jeans are riding low on his hips.
And the jeans! She’s been so distracted with the abs she hadn’t noticed the tight fit of the dark blue denim. Damn, this man has thighs too.
Cameron shifts, arm wrapping over his torso like he’s trying to cover up his glorious muscles.
‘Oh gosh. Sorry. Sorry.’ Jules spins to face the door that is still slowly coming to rest back against the doorstop. With the sultry voice, then the face, and now the body, her dream man keeps getting dreamier. But ogling him in his hotel room without his permission? Her hormones are making her misbehave.
‘I thought you were my sister,’ Cameron tells her, sounding flustered.
Good. That makes two of them.
‘You have a sister?’ Jules asks, honestly curious and also because she’s desperate for a distraction from her unresolved horniness.
‘Two. One older, and one younger. You can turn around now.’
Cameron is still buttoning up his light green shirt so Jules gets to say a slow goodbye to the abs she’s hoping she can somehow see again under more honourable—well, not honourable, but with full consent and awareness—circumstances.
‘So, uh.’ Cameron finishes buttoning his shirt. ‘Did you need something?’
Jules peels her gaze from his fingers to his expectant face. There’s a faint pink on his cheeks.
‘Oh. Right.’ The pricking sensation of tiny ant feet spreads out from her shoulders down her back. She focuses on maintaining a normal breathing pattern as her hands go clammy. ‘I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch together,’ she asks, trying for step one, take two. ‘I thought that might be nicer than eating alone.’
