“Because I’m such a player, right?”
“I didn’t mean that,” she said.
“Why won’t you trust I’m being real with you?”
“Because you’re Alex Fucking Chase.”
I knew better than to argue with that or try to convince her. It was impossible to understand what it was like to be this famous until you’d lived it.
Instead, I asked, “Do you know why I love it here so much?”
She shook her head.
“Because it makes me feel small. The stars. The desert. The timelessness of it all. When I feel like I’m starting to believe the hype or losing touch with reality, I come here to ground myself. When I’m climbing, the rock doesn’t give a shit how famous I am or what I got paid for my last movie or whether Callum Kent stole another part from me. I can clear my head and remember that none of it really means anything. No matter how big a deal I am in that constructed reality, out here I don’t matter.”
She was quiet for a long time before she said, “I think I know the feeling you’re chasing even if I can’t relate to any of the rest of it. I get it sometimes when I’m working with people. This reminder that for millennia, humans have been grappling with their identities and their sexuality and that absolutely nothing I’m seeing from people is really new even if it feels completely unique. It’s the feeling that the world is so much bigger than you…and that’s a good thing.”
“You get it completely.”
Did she make everyone feel so understood? Is this why everyone was drawn to her or was what existed between us special?
Everyone seemed to love her. Hell, my own brothers were half in love with her after one dinner. They’d both called to make sure she was okay, and those assholes never picked up the phone. Her friends loved her enough to be fiercely protective. Her ex clearly wasn’t ready to let her move on. Her clients and everyone in the scene worshipped her. I’d heard the damn VP tell her he loved her with tears in his eyes.
Why did I deserve her?
Was what we had different?
My timer buzzed, so I checked the fish and pulled both pouches off the fire, setting them on the picnic table. When I had the food plated, I handed one to her with a fork and sat down with the other.
She took a bite and groaned. “I stand corrected. Your campfire cooking is outstanding. I’m still skeptical about the sleeping arrangements and the dirt and how much outsideyness there is, but the food is…” She made a chef’s kiss gesture. “The company’s a little questionable.”
I grinned. “Whatever. You’re going to miss me.”
She tilted her head. “I guess we’ll find out in a week.”
35
Elena
“I’ve got a bit of a problem, Mr. Chase. I didn’t bring anything to sleep in since I so foolishly assumed we’d be indoors.”
“Here,” he said, peeling his shirt off and tossing it to me. “Sleep in my shirt.”
It was long enough to cover the tops of my thighs, but something about wearing it felt intimate and naughtier than being naked.
He’d laid some kind of big, padded mat down on the ground and tossed some pillows and blankets on it. At least it wasn’t a sleeping bag.
I tugged at the blanket. “Ah, the old ‘there’s only one bed’ routine…”
“Constantly accusing me of being a player. I can sleep in the back of the truck if you want.”
“It’s fine,” I said dismissively. “We both know you’re a perfect boy scout, so it’s not like my virtue is at risk.”
I lay back on the mat and parted my thighs in invitation.
He swaggered over to me, turning the lantern off when he passed it, plunging us into darkness. At first I thought it was pitch black, but as my eyes began to adjust, I noticed that with the moon and the glowing light of the dying fire, we could still vaguely see each other.
He cupped my ass with both hands and used it to pull me against him, letting me feel his hard length grinding into me.
