“I’m going out,” he said, heading over to the second bed, which he’d claimed after we’d checked in earlier.
“Out,” I repeated stupidly. “Out?”
“While you were busy flirting with Shane, I texted a friend and told him I was in town.”
“Shane.” I frowned hard, trying to remember flirting with anyone. “Shane?”
“Cannoli guy.” Knox extracted a button-down shirt—one from his extensive collection—from the bag and put it on the bed next to a fresh pair of jeans.
“That wasn’t flirting! God. That was just a guy being enthusiastic over his hobby.”
He snorted without turning around. “You’re delusional.”
“Me?” I scoffed. “Me?” I was not the one of us who wanted someone and was pretending I didn’t.
Oh. Shit. Maybe I was. Well, damn.
“Stop repeating words. It’s annoying.” Knox flipped the suitcase lid closed and then hesitated. He half turned, like he wanted to look at me but wouldn’t let himself, and darted a glance at the bathroom door.
As if I had a front-row seat inside his head, I knew the precise moment when he decided it would be more awkward to go into the other room to change—like it would make that unguarded moment between us real and un-ignorable—and sure enough, he shucked his shirt and pants in the next second, leaving him wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and acres and acres of gorgeous, freckled skin dusted with light brown hair.
Since Knox had clearly closed the road to Hookup Town, whether he wanted me or not, I tried to pretend I was unaffected by the sight—even as I also contemplated how far up the Creeper Scale I would be if I just took a tiny, quick picture as a memento.
Yes, yes, I know. That would make me a Level 10 Creeper.
So, I tried very hard to memorize the image instead.
Casually.
Not creepily.
Like, Level 5 at most.
But when he bent over to pull on his new jeans and his underwear pulled tight over the globes of his truly majestic ass, I couldn’t help sucking in a quick breath.
Knox paused with his pants halfway up his broad thighs and did that half-turn thing again, but he recovered fast and worked his jeans up the rest of the way.
Yes, I saidworked. Because these were not just jeans, they were fuck-me jeans, and apparently Knox had a pair, too.
Fucking.Fuck.
“So, um, where are you and your fuck buddy going?” I asked when the silence started to feel oppressive.
Knox shrugged into his shirt and finally turned his head in my direction, though he still didn’t meet my eyes. He did not correct my interpretation offriend.“Myles said we’d hit up a bar in his neighborhood first. Then… who knows.”
“Ah.” I was pretty sure I knew what came after the bar, and it made my stomach hurt in a way that had nothing to do with the cannoli.
I was so stupid.
When we’d been walking down Long Wharf by the harbor earlier—just to say I’d seen it—I’d been a little shocked at how that choppy, green-gray water was in any way connected to the clear turquoise waters around Whispering Key. It was like it had gotten a total makeover on its way north and turned itself into something different. Something full of potential and secrets.
But the truth was, it was stillwater, no matter where it was. Still a couple of hydrogens and an oxygen. Still salty as fuck. Just like I was still the same geeky guy who’d left Whispering Key because there hadn’t been anything for me there, because I hadn’t fit… and lo and behold, I still didn’t.
Which just meant I had to try harder to get over this crush. Or tryat all.
I put my feet flat on the bed and pushed myself backward until I was propped up on the pillows, and then I took out my phone.
A second after I opened my app, my phone trilled with a tap from a guy called Diccrater, and I snorted. A guy named uNoUwanna sent me an unsolicited picture of an erect penis that I was 97.64 percent sure wasn’t his, and I made a gagging sound.
