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“You saved my life, Nino. How about I buy you dinner to thank you for your act of bravery?”
“You don’t need to do that… and for the record, you don’t owe me anything. Shit happens, but you’re okay now and that’s all that matters.” I flash him my warmest smile.
“True, but I’d like to show my gratitude.”
“Okay, then. I’d like that.”
We discuss dinner options for tomorrow while drifting towards the rest of the crew for today’s shoot, who chose to relax and chat during my Aquaman stunt. Ash follows me halfway but he keeps his distance while I grab my backpack and fetch my phone to enter his digits.
I dismiss everyone for the day and face Ash moments later. We make small talk about my job. The fashion gig. The friendly models. The ideal spot.
After a while, he says, “Alex’ll be able to suggest a restaurant since he’s already been here before.” Rubbing the back of my neck, I disregard the way my heart lurches and will myself to avoid showing my disappointment; I don’t know the first thing about Ash, let alone his boyfriend, but I can’t deny that I would have enjoyed the opportunity to learn more about the surfer boy. He must sense it because his eyes narrow. “It’s okay if Alex tags along, right?” He tilts his head and looks in the girls’ direction before adding, “Feel free to bring someone too. The more, the merrier, you know!”
“Thanks. And of course, I don’t mind! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He offers a knowing smile. “I’m here for work and on my own, so…”
“Okay, then.” He threads his fingers through his hair. “Considering how crowded it can get, Alex will probably want to make reservations. Give me your number, and I’ll text you the address of the restaurant he chooses.”
For some reason, the way he seems to overly rely on his boyfriend irks me.
What’s wrong with me? What do I care? After all, he’s the one offering to treat me with dinner.
“Deal,” I say, my tone clipped.
“Great. Now, I’ll follow your advice and grab that shower, then buy myself another surfboard. Thanks again for saving my life, Nino.” He winks, and I do my best to keep a straight face.
“Anytime.” It seems that one-word answers are my latest tactic to prevent embarrassment.
He shakes my hand, and I watch him leave, transfixed.
Well, not quite…
My heart is slamming against my rib cage at an alarming rate. I replay the endless minutes between when I saved Ash and when we parted ways and reluctantly register that I really like this guy who’s so not my type. Still, as I brazenly check out his toned ass that stretches his fitted wetsuit, a nagging thought leaps to the forefront.
You’re not supposed to feel anything when performing CPR, are you? Did I feel something?
Surely I’m getting ahead of myself. Ash’s in a relationship and I’m not a home-wrecker. I’ll keep my dick in my pants, my dirty thoughts inside my head, and my hands in my pockets. Ash isn’t taking me on a date; I won’t do him. We’ll do dinner, then we’ll never see each other again.
Fais chier.
CHAPTER3
NOT ENOUGH
Ash
Iblink away the tears that threaten to fall—and showcase my weakness— knowing that I need to put on a brave face when I feel anything but.
Why am I such a mess?
A chill runs down my spine when I step onto the beachfront terrace. As always, the breakfast sprawled across the table amazes me. Our discreet in-house cook has outdone himself; he and the chauffeur came with the rental package.
Absorbed by his standard veggie omelet, Alex doesn’t acknowledge my presence. His 6’2 frame sits ramrod straight, which isn’t a good omen.
Pretend everything’s fine.
I force a smile and clutch the back of the chair opposite his. I drink my man in. His dark green polo complements his skin tone and makes his jet-black hair seem inkier. My dick approves of his sense of style. I bet that he paired it with preppy tan chino shorts from Hackett London, one of his favorite brands ever since he dated a Brit in college. Alex’s uncharacteristic confession about his ex and subsequent dejection made it clear that the relationship didn’t end well. From then on, James Kenworthy became Alex’s personal Voldemort, and although Alex expects reciprocity, I keep my demons to myself.
“You’re back later than anticipated. I went ahead and…” His hand gestures at the wide array of fruit, covered dishes, and hot beverages. At last, his dark stare pins me from under his thick lashes. “How was surfing?” Without waiting for my reply or bothering to ask, he pours me a large cup of coffee, then gestures for me to sit down; I oblige. My stomach is in knots. I doubt that I can hold down any food, no matter how hungry I am. “Eat something. You’re paler than usual.” Back in the day, my affinity for California’s beaches supplied a constant glow. It vanished with my relocation to the East Coast. Today, though, my skin tone must be sallow. A near-death experience will do that to you.
