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I looked into his eyes as he stared back at me. He’d opened up to me, been vulnerable and taken a risk. He gave me his trust.
Now, it was my turn to do the same in return.
I expelled a deep breath. "I’m not perfect, Mitchell. Far from it."
We both sat up a little taller as I kept talking-slash-confessing some very private parts of myself I hadn’t shared with anyone. "Like I told you, I come from money. I have a life that people would look at and consider to be dripping with privilege. My family has wealth, social standing, power, influence. The whole nine yards."
I felt Mitchell’s fingers pressing into my palm. Now, he was reassuring me.
"But despite having the best of everything, the best start in life possible, at the age of almost twenty-five, I am nothing short of a right royal fuck-up."
"Hey." Mitchell’s voice was so soft he was practically cooing. "You’re not a?—"
"I am." I didn’t let him finish what I knew he was going to say. "I have zero idea what I want to do with the rest of my life. My family and most of my friends back home hate me for leaving. And even though I’ve gone off on this quest to find myself through partying, traveling, and casual hookups...I’m—I’m more lost than ever."
Silence spread between us.
He bit down on his lower lip before saying, "Not all those who wander are lost."
Where had I heard that before? "Wait. Are you quoting Lord of the Rings at me?"
"And if I am?" he whipped back cheekily.
"Then I’d think you’re pretty fucking cool. That’s my favorite movie series ever."
"Mine, too. Have you read the books?"
I shook my head.
"You have to. They’re amazing."
"As amazing as you?"
A smile seared his lips. "No. I’m better."
He fucking was.
That tiny seed of hope that had been planted in my chest was slowly blossoming into a flower.
10
MITCHELL
"You really didn’t have to do this." I snuck a glance at Cayman, his dark hair shimmering in the moonlight as we reached the door to my suite, hand in hand.
After dinner, he insisted on walking me back to my room. With any other guy, it would have been a move. With him, I knew he genuinely wanted to make sure I got back safely.
"I know, but I just wanted to make sure you got back to your room safely," he replied, echoing my own feelings. My own right feelings.
Finally, somehow, during the course of the weekend and after talking with Leo, I had found a connection to my intuition.
"Dinner was lovely. Thank you again, Mitchell."
"My pleasure."
The whole day had been wonderful. I didn’t know if that was why I was floating on air, or if it was the delicious dinner we’d just shared, or the fact that his fingers felt like they belonged entwined in mine.
I cleared my throat. "Would you—would you like to come in?"
