Chapter 8
8
Cameron
“Dammit!” I toss my phone onto the mattress and watch it bounce.
“Who are you calling?” Josefine calls from behind the bathroom door. I didn’t realize she could hear me.
“Um, my—” Girlfriend is on the tip of my tongue, but then I remember I don’t have one of those anymore. “My, uh, friend.”
Josefine throws open the door and steps out, and my adrenaline spikes. I swallow, desperate to relieve the dryness in my mouth.
“What?” she asks, examining herself. “You look like you’ve never seen a woman before.”
“I—I—have,” I stutter, practically wheezing.
I’ve seen plenty of women before, just none as breathtaking as the one standing before me. Hayden’s pretty in the traditional sense, but Josefine is just— wow.
“Is that all you have to wear?” I ask through gritted teeth. “Isn’t there a robe or something you can put on?” Craning my neck, I look past Josefine, but I don’t see anything but towels hanging in the bathroom .
“Excuse me?” she challenges, propping one hand on her hip. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“It’s just that, um.” Heat rushes to my cheeks. “That, um…”
Raising her brows, she lifts her chin and looks down her nose at me. “Yes?” She waves a hand, urging me to get on with it.
I sigh. “It’s just that we don’t even know each other, and you’re wearing that .”
That being the tiniest and sexiest lingerie I’ve ever seen. It’s one piece and made of silk—or maybe it’s satin. The lilac color is stunning against her sun-kissed skin. I can’t see her backside, but I assume it barely covers her bum. The top is trimmed with lace and dips low between her braless breasts—the material makes that fact obvious.
“Why are you wearing lingerie?”
“What are you talking about?” She glances down at her body. Her tight body—that’s how little her getup leaves to the imagination. “This is not lingerie. This is a bathing suit cover-up.”
“It’s definitely lingerie.” Who am I trying to convince here?
“Nope.”
“I think I know lingerie when I see it.”
“You must not see very good lingerie, my friend, because this is a beach cover-up.” She hits me with a blatantly fake smile.
“I’ve seen plenty of lingerie, thank you very much.” I sound way too offended right now, but my pride is relentless.
“Whatever,” she huffs, bending slightly to search for the outlet against the wall. “You can close your mouth now, darling,” she drawls once she’s plugged her adapter into the wall and connected her phone to it. “You’re drooling.”
I reflexively swipe a hand across my mouth, but it’s dry. “ Ha ha . Very funny. Get in bed.”
“Ooh, so demanding,” she quips. “Are you always this dominating in bed, or is it just for me?” She bats her lashes.
She actually fucking bats her lashes .
I bend over and rummage through my backpack. In truth, I’m not looking for anything, but I don’t want her to see the semi she’s got me sporting.
Josefine seemed so sweet and innocent on the dock, but now I’m wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. Maybe I’ll go to the front desk one more time. There’s a chance someone has checked out in the last hour, right? Or maybe they’ll let me sleep in the lobby.
This girl intrigues me, though. She’s the opposite of Hayden, who never asked me to be dominating in bed, despite my interest in it. She would always tell me to go slower or be more gentle. It’s not like I wanted to hurt her, but I wouldn’t have minded if she let me throw her around a little. Not that it matters anymore.
Was Josefine’s comment a hint about what she likes? Does she like men to take control of her in the bedroom?
Blinking out of my trance, I stand upright. “Yeah, all good. Just trying to find my toothbrush.”
“You carry a toothbrush on day trips?”
“Actually, no,” I admit. “I don’t remember what I was looking for.” This girl has got me flipped upside down and I don’t know a thing about her.
“There’s an extra one in the bathroom,” she offers, thumbing over her shoulder.
“Thanks.” I stride across the room, giving her a wide berth, and close the door behind me.
Resting my palms against the chipped Formica countertop, I commence a staring contest with myself in the mirror. Yes, the woman on the other side of the wall is beautiful, but you’ve got to pull it together. It’s one night.
I remove my contact lenses. Thankfully, I did bring their case and a travel-size bottle of solution. My eyesight isn’t so bad that I can’t see without them, but if I go too long, I get a headache. Even though I flipped the switch Katerina pointed out, the water comes out way too cold, forcing me to take the quickest shower of my life. For being a rundown B it’s infectious.
“Every time I went to the dentist, I’d pick one out and give it to my mom,” I share. “Every six months for eight years. My sister would make fun of me for it, but I loved seeing the smile it put on my mom’s face. She was…” I trail off, shaking my head. I don’t need to recount my mother’s struggles to a stranger.
“That’s super cute.” She gives me a small smile. Then, like she can sense my sudden unease, she steers us back on track. “I’d want something unique. Maybe something green.”
“Green? Why green?”
“It’s my favorite color.” She shrugs. “And it was the color of my dad’s eyes.” That last part comes out as a whisper.
The way she says “was” makes me think her dad is no longer in her life, but before I can even consider asking, Joey continues.
“Yeah, I think I’d like something green. But not emerald green. More like green amethyst, you know?”
I nod, even though I have no idea what green amethyst looks like.
“And I’d want it with a yellow-gold setting—not silver or platinum.”
Definitely unlike the ring I bought for Hayden.
“You’ve got pretty specific ideas for someone who doesn’t want to get married.” I poke her in the side.
She throws a pillow at my face but misses, and I catch it before it goes off the side of the bed.
“I’m sorry you’ve had such a shitty day,” I tell her.
With a terse nod, she turns the sconce on her side of the bed off, and we settle under the sheets again. The room has cooled since we first arrived. When Katerina let us in, the air inside was stale, so after dinner, we cracked open the window, welcoming in the night air. In long sleeves and pants, I’m perfectly comfortable, but Joey’s got to be chilly in that little getup.
“Thanks,” she replies. “Have you ever been cheated on?”
My chest gets tight at just the thought of what she’s been through. “Not that I know of, but I can imagine it’s the worst.”
“Totally,” she sighs.
“How long were you together?” I ask.
“We met when I was sixteen. He was twenty-one.”
“Oof,” I say with a little more judgment than intended.
“Yeah, I was all googly-eyes for him, but he kept things platonic. We reconnected when I went to college and I moved in with him right away.”
“You’re living together?” Ouch. What’s she going to do when she returns home? I suppose I should be thankful that Hayden and I have our own places. “Where in California do you live?”
“Santa Monica. What about you? In New York, I mean?”
“Long Island.” Yeah, opposite sides of the country; we’ll definitely never see one another again.
“What does your boy—ex,” I correct myself, “do?”
“He’s a music producer. You may know him, actually.” She hesitates. “Tyler Jones?”
“As in Jeremy Jones’s son?” They’re a famous father-son music producing duo. I heard rumors he was on the ship but hadn’t seen him. What a fucking prick for cheating on Joey.
“How did you two meet?” I guess knowing that we’ll never see each other again makes it easier to ask personal questions.
“I snuck into a club with my friends with a fake ID, and he was scoping out talent that night.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Yeah. I did a lot of crazy shit in high school. That’s what happens when your mom is—never mind. That was a fun night.” Her voice is soft, almost wistful. “He had no idea I was sixteen, of course. I can’t even remember how he found out I was still in high school, but he was pissed. Especially after spending half the night showering me with attention. He punched his number into my phone and told me to call him the day I turned eighteen.”
“Did you?”
“You bet your ass I did.” She laughs, but it falls short. “Ugh!” She lifts both arms and smacks the mattress on either side of her. “Enough about him. Distract me,” she begs, her voice breathy. “Help me get my mind off the last twenty-four hours.”
“What did you have in mind?” For a second, I think she’s asking me to distract her with sex, and my heart and my dick both leap. I shut that shit down quickly.
“Let’s play a game.” She pushes herself up again and fluffs the pillow behind her.
“A game?” I turn to face her and prop myself up on one elbow. “Are we five?”
She shoves my shoulder, and I fall back dramatically.
Then she lets out the most adorable laugh. “Come on. Don’t be such an old man.”
“Okay.” I give in. “What game do you want to play?”
“Truth or Dare.”
I groan. “Anything but Truth or Dare.”
“What? Bad experience?”
“You could say that.”
“Fine. How about Never Have I Ever?”
“Sure. How does it work?” I ask.
“You don’t know how to play Never Have I Ever? Sheesh, you really are an old man.”
I flick her arm. “I’m not that old.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty. How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
I jolt upright. “You’re only twenty-fucking-two?” I slap a hand to my face, feeling like a creep lying in this bed with her. I ought to return to playing “The Princess and the Pea” on the floor.
“Why are you being weird?”
“You’re so young.” My stomach ties itself in a knot when I remember all the times I’ve ogled her today. “I’m eight years older than you.”
“It’s not a big deal. Don’t be weird.”
Closing my eyes, I suck in a long breath and let it out again. Is it a big deal? Maybe not. We’re just sharing a bed, and only because we’re stranded.
“Come on,” she whines.
“Fine.” With a sigh, I settle on my side and prop my head up with my fist.
Joey switches on the small light again and runs through the instructions. “I’ll go first,” she says. “Never have I ever,” she tilts her head to the side and pauses, “lived in New York.”
“Hey!” I put down the thumb on my left hand. “I feel like that’s cheating.” I grin.
Joey rolls her eyes. “Your turn.”
“Never have I ever had a fake ID.”
She flips me off before putting down a finger. “Touché.” She giggles. “Okay. Never have I ever cheated on someone.”
Joey raises an approving brow when I don’t put down a finger.
“Never have I ever worn lingerie.” I smirk. I may be treading on thin ice with that one, but it’s too late now.
She sticks out her tongue and puts another finger down. I kind of like this game.
“Never have I ever been to Greece until now,” Joey says.
I don’t put down a finger.
“Never have I ever been snorkeling.”
Joey lowers another finger. “Never?” Her voice pitches in surprise .
“Nope. I’ve been on boats and have water-skied plenty of times, but I’ve never snorkeled. Weird, huh?”
“It’s so fun!” She beams.
That look makes me want to show her the photo I snapped of her earlier, but I decide against it. Again, I’d probably come across as a total stalker.
“Your turn. Go,” I redirect.
“Okay, hmm.” She pauses. “Never have I ever gotten my partner’s name tattooed on my body.”
She sends me a look of approval when my fingers don’t move.
“Hold up.” I stop her, intrigued. “That’s oddly specific. Explain.”
Joey sighs, her lush lips pouting, like she’s considering her words. “Last year, Tyler tattooed my name on his chest.” The explanation lacks all feeling, like she’s reciting a fact about US history. “I thought it was romantic at the time, but…”
We both know what she’s getting at.
“Does he have a lot of tattoos?” I don’t know why I ask. I saw him go after her on the beach earlier today.
“Umm?” her voice goes up at the end.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Is that how you take your men?”
“Huh?” she asks.
“With tattoos?”
“If you’re asking me if I think tattoos are sexy, the answer is always yes,” she practically purrs.
“I see.” Earlier, when I was shamelessly eyeing her in that bikini, I noticed that she had a tattoo, but now I wonder if she has any others.
“Moving on,” she announces, forcing me to stop mapping her body in my mind. “Never have I ever,” her pause is longer this time, “stolen anything.”
Her jaw drops when I put a finger down. “What’s the story there? ”
“Nuh-uh,” I say, shooting her a grin. “That’s not part of the game.”
“Hey. I told you my backstory.”
I blink at her in response, but I don’t budge.
“You play dirty.” She furrows her brows, but I’m not buying her edge. “Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Your turn.”
“Never have I ever gotten a tattoo of a bird.” I wink.
She puts down a finger right away.
“Three, I should say.”
“I’m only putting one finger down, mister.” She smiles and lowers her pointer finger, leaving her middle finger raised on its own. Lucky for me, I still have three, formed in the sign for ok.
“You saw that, huh?” Joey asks, rubbing the back of her left tricep where three little birds reside.
“Yeah, what’s the story there?” I ask.
“ Nuh-uh .” She echoes my earlier response. “That’s not part of the game.”
“Fine,” I huff. “Go on.”
“While we’re on the topic of tattoos… Never have I ever fucked someone with a butterfly back tattoo.”
A sudden sense of dread washes over me and my heart rate picks up. “What the hell did you just say?”
“I said?—”
Even though I asked the question, I don’t give her time to answer. “Why would you say that?”
She frowns, scanning my face. “Because the girl Tyler fucked last night had a butterfly stamped on her lower back.”
“What kind of butterfly tattoo?” My mind is racing and I can’t sort through my thoughts fast enough.
“I don’t know.” She drops her chin and picks at an invisible speck on the sheet between us. “Why does it matter?”
“Because,” I say slowly, “Hayden has a butterfly tattoo.”
“Lots of people do.” She peeks up at me, nibbling on her bottom lip. “It’s not very original. Does she also have blond hair and wear a fucking pearl necklace?”
My entire body stiffens; only my hands tremble, and Joey’s mouth falls open.
“Shit.”
Is it possible this is all just a misunderstanding? A coincidence? Hayden would never cheat on me. Especially not with someone like Tyler. From what I’ve seen of him in the media, he’s way too messy. Hayden is classy, and the people she surrounds herself with reflect that, even if I don’t fall under the stereotypical country club couture type. I certainly don’t wear polos and plaid.
And again, lots of women have butterfly tattoos stamped on their lower backs. But how many of those women are on the same cruise?
I snag my phone from the nightstand and call Hayden again, but it goes straight to voicemail like it has all evening.
Letting out a long breath, I assure myself that it wasn’t her.
No way.
But still…
My stomach twists. She did look awful this morning. I assumed she’d gotten too much sun or maybe ate questionable food from the buffet.
“Is this her?” Joey shoves her phone in my face.
Bile rises in my throat, and all the blood drains from my face. Joey has gone ashen too. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that when I open them, the image will have changed, but I’m shit out of luck.
It’s Hayden.
She’s in profile, but it’s definitely her. Blond hair pulled back in a short, perky ponytail. Pearls wrapped snugly around her neck. A guy—clearly Tyler—clenching his fist around the back of her shirt, revealing a blue and purple butterfly just above her skirt; the one she got the day she moved out of her parents’ house at eighteen. Her small act of rebellion. The white pleated skirt she was wearing when I parted with her at the club last night.
“That—”
“Bitch,” Joey assumes for me. “I’m so sorry.”
Following her hands to where she tucks the phone between her legs, my gaze burns a hole in the sheets.
I shoot off the bed and pace, clenching my fists and my jaw. “I don’t fucking believe it,” I pant.
“I’m so sorry,” Joey says again. She hops off the mattress and rounds the foot of it. When she’s close, she reaches for me, but she pulls back quickly before she can make contact.
“How? Why? How could she do this to me?” I knead at the tingling in my chest and pace across the cramped space like a tiger locked in its cage. “Why would she fucking do that?”
Wait. Maybe this is a misunderstanding. Maybe it just looks like Hayden’s in a compromising position because of the angle from which the picture was taken. Those things can happen.
As if she can read my mind, Joey takes a small step closer, licking her lips. “I saw it with my own eyes. It’s real. It happened.”
I continue to pace back and forth, my heart pounding so hard against my ribs I worry it’ll make its way right out of my chest. How is this happening?
“Cam.”
“What the fuck?” Sure, we broke up this morning, but this happened last night. She cheated.
“Cam.”
Sweat collects at my temples. My shirt is too tight at the collar and across my chest. I rake my hands through my hair and tug, my head woozy and my vision blurring around the edges.
“ Cameron . Stop.”
Joey steps in front of me, forcing me to halt my movement. She grasps my forearms and pulls. Reluctantly, I release my grip on my hair. Sucking in short breaths, I scan her face, her dark eyes, her sad expression, my heart still racing and my vision still unfocused.
“Take a deep breath.” She clasps my hands between us, her words patient. “You’re spiraling. Deep breaths,” she commands. “Come.” Gently tugging, she ushers me back to the bed. “Lay down. You’re having a panic attack.”
Is that what this is? My mom had panic attacks when I was a kid. When it happened, her eyes would get as big as saucers and she would move her arms about like she was searching for an anchor—something to bring her back to earth.
Here, now, Joey is my anchor. She gently guides me onto my left side, and with one hand still holding mine, she turns off the light.
I squeeze my eyes tight and clutch at the sheets, praying the darkness washes away the image of Hayden and Tyler. Joey curves herself around me like a spoon and hooks one leg over my thighs, securing me in place. She wraps her arm around me and presses her hand against my pounding heart. Her nose nudges the back of my neck as she situates herself on my pillow.
“What are you doing?” I manage through ragged breaths.
“Match your breath to mine, okay? When I breathe in, you breathe in; when I breathe out, you breathe out. Got it? Focus on me. Nothing else.” Her voice is so soothing I already feel myself gliding back to earth.
I nod.
“Inhale,” she begins.
I desperately try to mimic her, but it’s difficult when my heart is beating this fast.
“It’s okay,” she reassures. “You’ll get there. Now exhale.”
I release my tight grip on the sheets .
When Joey inhales again, I feel a tad more tethered to the moment.
I match her breath for breath.
Inhale. Inhale.
Exhale. Exhale.
“Again.”
Inhale. Inhale.
Exhale. Exhale.
She’s a miracle worker. It only takes a handful of breaths for relief to settle in.
She drags her breath out longer this time, challenging me to do the same.
Slowly, my heart rate returns to normal and the fog clouding my brain dissipates. Mostly clearheaded, I focus on my surroundings. On Joey’s warm breath against my neck. On the way her body fits perfectly against mine. She paints circles on my chest, eliciting goose bumps beneath my shirt.
In moments, I’ve lost all sense of time and have given up on matching her breath. And from the sound of her breathing, she has too. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, her breathing has quickened. Or is that my imagination?
She continues tracing circles on my chest, her movements torturously slow. Then she works her way down my torso, only stopping when she reaches the hem of my shirt.
“What are you doing?” I croak.
She doesn’t answer.
“Joey,” I plead.
“Truth or Dare?”
“I told you I don’t like that game,” I say. This time, my words are smoother, more subdued.
“Answer me,” she challenges, her tone fierce.
“Dare.” I can’t handle any more truths tonight.
“I dare you to fuck me.”