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All I could focus on was keeping my shit together, fighting what felt like a losing battle against the lump lodged in the back of my throat.
"Okay, we will, Mitchell. We’ll see each other one last time."
16
MITCHELL
I hated packing at the best of times, and now was definitely anything but the best of anything.
Cayman had only left a few moments ago, and as soon as the door clicked shut, I started bawling like a baby. I shed what felt like a river’s worth of tears. And yeah, packing while crying sucked as much as it sounded.
I tossed my luggage onto the unmade bed Cayman and I had slept in. God, it felt so good to be wrapped up in his arms...and bouncing up and down on his cock.
Last night—no, wait...all of yesterday, from the moment I met him on the beach until I drifted off to sleep in his arms—had been the best day of my whole life.
Too bad that’s all it would ever be.
A day.
A memory.
I tossed a few shirts into the luggage absentmindedly, not really caring about what I was doing. My mind was being held captive, consumed with thoughts, sounds, and smells of Cayman.
He was the one.
I just knew it. My skin knew it, too. I felt it with every breath I took and every heavy sigh I exhaled. But wanting it, wanting him, didn’t make the slightest difference in the world. I would never be able to have him.
I’d come close, but happily ever after wasn’t how this weekend would end for me.
A more accurate description would have been Got a Glimpse of Happy Only to Have it Torn Away From Him Forever After.
I moped my way into the bathroom and had a quick shower. Once done, I packed up my toiletries and flung them into my suitcase, too. I felt like I had lead glued to the underside of my feet. Every step I took felt like it required a gargantuan effort.
One part of me knew that I was acting silly.
Cayman and I had only just met. He worked at an all-male resort. He probably did this kind of thing all the time. He’d even said as much over dinner. He told me he was into partying and traveling and only ever did random, casual hookups.
But another part of me knew—just knew—that what we were experiencing was different. And no, this wasn’t me trying to convince myself of something I wanted to see or have happen. It was the opposite, actually.
It would have been a million times easier if this thing between us was a random, casual thing. I wouldn't be sulking around the room and feeling like shit right now, for a start. And my heart wouldn't feel like it was collapsing in on itself at the thought that I’d never see Cayman again after I left.
Which reminded me…
I pulled out my cell phone and stared at the time in disbelief. I had to finish packing, check out of the resort, and get my ass into an Uber in less than twenty minutes.
Fuckity fuck fuck!
I tossed everything that I owned that wasn’t already in my luggage into it, slamming it shut and zipping it up in what I was pretty sure would have been a world record time. I slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed my room card as I burst out the door.
Cayman had pointed out the staff headquarters where the resort workers hung out in, so that’s where I headed.
I broke out into a light jog and then into a heavy one, silently cursing how massive the resort was. When I finally reached the sectioned-off bungalow, I felt a little guilty slipping past the Staff Only Beyond This Point sign.
Okay, so technically I was breaking the rules, but I just had to see Cayman one more time. I wanted to memorize everything about him—how his thick dark hair shone in the sunlight...or moonlight, how his eyes softened and crinkled around the edges whenever he smiled, how broad, strong, and manly his shoulders were.
I walked up to the front door, knocked, and waited, my breath caught in my throat.
Relax, I told myself. Breathing is good. Keep doing it.
