Chapter 36

36

Josefine

“What did you tell him?” Millie asks, now that I’ve caught her up on Cam’s morning truth bomb.

The second I walked into our apartment, she knew something was up. And honestly, I need her advice. The short walk home wasn’t enough to work through the shit between Cam and me. What letter was he talking about? He didn’t give me a letter before I left Crete, and I’ve checked my mail a couple of times over the last week.

“I told him I need time to think.”

She embraces me in a tight hug. “Fair enough,” she agrees. “But he’s right, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“He’s not like Tyler,” she calls from her closet, where she’s unpacking.

That’s obvious, but it doesn’t mean he won’t hurt me. Look at all the men my mom has dated. They started off as good guys too. Most of them, anyway.

As if she can read my mind, she yells, “You’re not like your mom. Cam is a good guy. And if there’s a time when he does treat you poorly, you’ll kick him to the curb like the badass bitch you are. You’re self-aware as shit, and you have no problem standing up for yourself. As shitty as Tyler was, your breakup taught you a lot about yourself and what you want moving forward. Didn’t that fuckboy at least teach you there’s good in goodbye?”

“I think that was Taylor Swift,” I tease, despite the dull ache in my heart.

Millie sticks her head out of the closet and rolls her eyes. “While your ex may have dragged your dreams through the dirt, it doesn’t sound like Cam would do that.”

“But how do you know?” I plead.

“I don’t. You gotta have faith.”

Faith. Huh. Every type-A control freak’s nightmare.

Mumbling a dismissal, I head to the living room to unpack my own bags.

After our unfinished breakfast conversation, Cam and I fell into an oddly companionable silence while we ate. I helped him clean the kitchen, and he gave me space while I finished collecting my belongings. When he popped in to check on me and saw me fingering his copy of The Alchemist , he offered it to me to borrow.

“Nonsense,” he scoffed when I told him I’d already downloaded the e-book. “There’s nothing quite like holding the physical copy in your hands.”

As I unpack my suitcase, I discover a white envelope tucked under a cover-up. The blue stamp at the top left corner reads Atlas Luxury Resort and Spa ; my name is scrawled in the middle. I turn the envelope over in my hand. Written on the back is a quote, one I already recognize from his favorite book. The one that says that everything that happens once can’t ever happen again, but if it happens twice, it’ll happen a third time.

My heart stutters. We met last year. That’s one. Then we were thrown together a second time. And last night? That was our third. Or am I stretching to make truths out of nothing?

Carefully, I tear open the envelope, remembering then the moment I realized Cam is a leftie. When he was hunched over the desk in his hotel room writing on a piece of resort letterhead.

Five minutes later, after having read the most encouraging letter of my life, and wiping the tears from my eyes, I reach for my phone.

Me

Hi. Thanks again for breakfast. It was delicious drooling face

Also… my answer is yes

After I tuck my phone into my laptop bag, I add my laundry to Millie’s pile. She’s a saint, offering to take care of it since I’ve got a busy day ahead of me. I shout a goodbye, then make the trek to the Black Hole. There’s a little extra pep in my step as I pass Cam’s place along the way.

“An Andalusian Dream?” Iris asks when I walk in.

I laugh. “How did you know?”

She shrugs, her jet-black hair swaying at her shoulders. “I had a feeling.”

As it turns out, my new favorite coffee shop has a selection of aluminum water bottles for purchase. Knowing nothing about the woman I knocked over last Monday, I choose one with a purplish-blue Milky Way design. The pages that scattered on the sidewalk were full of sketches, and this bottle looks artsy to me.

As I’m paying, my phone buzzes from inside my laptop bag, so I wedge the bottle under my arm and dig it out.

Cam

Can I take you out tonight?

Me

Sounds great

I make my way to my new favorite table at the back of the café, where Ari is already typing furiously on his laptop.

“Hey,” I say, brushing by the table. “What are you doing?”

Removing his earbuds, he turns his laptop so I can see the screen. “Working on the assignment that’s due today.” He frowns. “Don’t tell my bubbe.”

“Don’t worry.” I wink. “Your secret is safe with me.”

We work side by side in silence for hours, only breaking for lunch. It’s an introvert’s dream.

Just before five, we pack up and head for the bus stop. When we arrive and step up to the education building, we have to dodge a collage of sidewalk chalk art. The concrete is flooded with four-by-four squares of rainbow-themed scenes, likely in preparation for a Pride Week celebration.

We settle in our seats, and moments later, Talulah saunters in. She’s as captivating as ever, but I struggle to focus; my mind is adhered to my date later this evening. What am I even doing? I was adamant about avoiding distractions, but I can’t deny that Cam and I have a connection. He called it cosmic, and maybe he’s right. Millie certainly thinks I should give him a chance. Admittedly, I’m notorious for second-guessing myself.

Should I leave home for college? Should I finish college? Should I write a book? Should I get bangs? Should I order extra queso with chips? (Okay, so I’m never indecisive when it comes to queso.)

Decision fatigue and the constant questioning game my brain plays are exhausting. Sometimes I wish I could crawl out of my own head and take a nap in someone else’s. With a weighted blanket.

Mentally shaking off that train of thought, I sit up straight in my chair, determined to put Cam aside for the time being and focus on writing.

After class, I situate myself against one of the twin pillars at the entrance of the education building and wait for the dark-haired woman to appear. I pull up my text thread with Cam to confirm we’re meeting at my apartment.

Just as I’m sticking my phone back in my bag, she steps out of a taxi in front of the building. Her white V-neck shirt is tucked into a pair of high-waisted acid-washed jeans, and black Birkenstocks hug her feet. She’s got her hair pulled up in a bun again, although it’s messier than last time, and her bangs frame the same circular, gold-rimmed glasses she wore last week. She pauses at the edge of the sidewalk and hunches over one of the chalk drawings. As she does, a man steps out of the taxi and sidles up to her to examine the artwork.

A man who, not even nine hours ago, was cooking breakfast for me in his kitchen.

A man who, not even eighteen hours ago, was coming on my stomach.

My chest tightens like a balloon inflating against my lungs, and I clutch my hand to my heart. What the fuck? Time needs to speed up, and I need to get the hell out of here.

The woman who, a moment ago, I could see myself striking up a friendship with, elbows Cam in the ribs. He stumbles back, feigning injury, causing them both to break into laughter. The joy in the sound and the glee in his expression are so familiar. This morning, they brought a welcome hunger. Now, though, they cause a pit of dread to form in my stomach.

She hands her phone to him, and they turn to take a selfie, being sure to catch the chalk art in the background. When he returns her phone, he swings an arm around her shoulder and guides her toward the building, all cozy and shit.

The pit in my stomach cracks open, and pain leaches into my extremities. I want to run.

No, I want the concrete below to open wide and swallow me whole.

How could I have been so stupid? Typical . I peel back the tiniest of layers and let him in, and instantly, he tears a hole in my heart. Just like my mom. Just like my ex.

The concrete below me doesn’t grant my wish, and now, two feet in front of me, is the star of my next therapy session.

Cam nearly trips up the stairs when he catches sight of me. “Hi.” He drops his tattooed arm from around the woman’s shoulders and leans in to kiss my cheek.

Hell no, jackass.

I rear back like his touch alone might singe my skin. In an instant, his bright expression morphs into one of confusion. In response, my nose burns, but I force the tears threatening to well in my eyes to abate.

“Cam,” I say through gritted teeth. If I open my mouth any wider, I may just throw up. Wouldn’t that be grand? Then he’d carry this gorgeously adorable human beside him home in his pocket, wash and worship her in his shower, and then make love to her in the bed I slept in last night. After, they’d surely cuddle like otters and laugh about the girl on the stairs who vomited all over them.

“Did you hear me?” he asks. He’s wearing a white V-neck—as if they coordinated outfits—army green chinos, and cognac-colored leather sneakers. His face is freshly shaved, and even his hair has been trimmed since this morning. He looks like he walked right off my Pinterest inspo page, and I fucking hate it.

“Huh?” I grunt. Rude? Maybe, but I don’t care .

“Are you okay?”

The woman looks from him to me and back again, no doubt assessing the situation. Does she suspect her boyfriend has been playing her like a chessboard? Well, checkmate, darling, because I’m about to end this game.

Behind a forced smile, I turn to her. “Here.” I hold the brand-new water bottle between us. “I’m sorry about last week.”

With an outstretched hand, she accepts it. “Thank you.” Her smile is gracious, beautiful. I want to knock in her perfect teeth. But she’s not who I’m angry with.

Careful not to make contact with Cam, I take a step to one side. But a strong hand grasps my wrist. When I yank, attempting to free myself from his hold, he towers over me, practically pinning me against the pillar.

“What are you doing, Joey?” His deep voice is crisp and urgent.

“ Joey ?” I must be hearing things, because I swear there’s a hint of wonder in the woman’s voice.

“Yes?” The word wedges in my throat, and my voice goes up an octave too high to sound sane.

“ This is Joey?” she asks. Now I’m confused. Her tone is far too pleasant for what’s happening here. If I were her, I’d be wondering about the identity of the mystery woman my boyfriend is trying to kiss on the cheek.

“Oh my god!” She pushes him out of the way and nearly knocks me over with an awkward hug.

My arms are superglued to my sides, and my shoulders are basically stuffed into my ear canals. “What’s going on?”

Cam puts one hand on the woman’s arm, signaling her to step back.

“Joey,” he says, his voice so frustratingly soothing, “this is my sister, Claire. Claire, this is?—”

“Your Joey!” she cuts him off, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Claire? The woman he took a selfie with is?—

“Oh my god, your sister!” My body ignites in a flash fire of mortification.

I offer a redo introduction. This time I embrace her with genuine gratitude, sighing into her tiny frame. Thank fuck he isn’t just another fuckboy in my life.

When I face him, he asks, “Did you think—” He doesn’t finish the question, no doubt because the answer is written across my face.

Relief courses through my veins, but radical emotions are crawling their way to the surface. My cheeks are still flaming, and tears well in my eyes. I guess relief has to go somewhere.

“Oh, baby,” he says, pulling me into his chest and clinging to me like a lifeline.

I sniff back my tears as quietly as possible, then inhale deeply and relax against him when the familiar scent of his detergent hits me.

When I pull away, I turn to Claire. “I’m so sorry.” Wringing my hands, I let out a nervous laugh. Now that the confusion and fury have fled, I take her in more closely. How did I not notice the resemblance? Not only do they have the same hazel eyes and dark brown hair, but their smiles take shape in the same crescent curve.

“This is so embarrassing,” I accidentally say aloud.

“Forget it,” she assures me, embracing me again. Okay, I guess we have a hugger .

Not that I’m complaining. I’m back to imagining this classy hipster as my BFF.

“I’m so glad I’m finally meeting you after all this time!”

All this time? It’s only been a couple of weeks.

“My brother hasn’t shut up about you for like a y?—”

“That’s enough, sis.” He smacks a hand across her mouth.

Her eyes are full of spirit and secrets. What has he told her?

Cam releases her, then places his hand on the small of my back and rubs circles with such delicacy I shiver. “Are you okay now?”

My lips tremble, but I smile and nod.

“Where are you two going tonight?” She inquires, doing her best to clear the air.

“It’s a surprise,” he croons.

“You don’t know yet, do you?” I call his bullshit.

“Nope.” He closes the last few inches of space between us and brushes his cheek against mine. His breath is hot in my ear when he whispers, “But I promise to make it worthwhile.”

“I heard that!” Claire gags at her brother’s comment. “I’ll be going now. It was lovely to meet you, Joey.” She hugs me once more and lingers for a moment. “Give him a chance.”

When she pulls away, she jogs up the stairs with a backward wave and a “good to have you back, big bro.”

When she’s out of earshot, I throw my hands over my face. “That was definitely not a great first impression.”

Pulling my hands down, Cam intertwines his fingers with mine. “I hate that you thought she was someone else. I would never.” Still holding tight to me, he brushes his fingers against my hip. “I’m a one-woman kind of guy and…” He ducks his head. And if I’m not mistaken, his cheeks go the slightest shade of pink.

Oh, wow. Are we having the “exclusive” talk already? Here? Right now? We have been sleeping together. Our friends-with-benefits relationship was my idea and was only supposed to last on the island. But now ?

A muscle clenches along his jaw, and I push back the lock of hair that’s fallen across his forehead.

“I’m not seeing anyone else,” I confirm.

His posture slackens. “Good. Because I don’t want to share these ”—he pulls a scrap of lace from his pocket and dangles it between us like a pocket watch—“with anyone.”

My cheeks rush with heat. “Have you lost your damn mind?” Yanking the black lace that got lodged in his sheets last night, I panic-stuff them down the front of my dress, between my breasts, giggling the whole time.

Cam tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Come on, gorgeous.” He grabs the strap of my laptop case and guides me down the stairs with a hand at my back. “Since I’m here now, let’s take an Uber. We’ll have to drop your stuff and run if we want to make our reservation on time.”

“But I thought you didn’t have a plan.”

He pulls up his ride-share app as we wander to the end of the block. “If I told my sister where we were going, her crazy ass would follow us there.”

“Clever boy,” I laugh.

When we step through my apartment door, I’m acutely aware that this is the first time Cam has entered my personal space. I mean, my physical personal space. Dang it. I mean my apartment.

“Do you want anything to drink?” I offer, tucking my laptop below the television in its designated resting spot.

He shakes his head, taking in the open kitchen to the left before he joins me in the main living space. A basket full of folded laundry sits on the sofa. I could kiss Millie for taking care of my least favorite chore. I remove my thong from my cleavage and toss it onto the pile.

The heat radiating off Cam hits my back before his breath wafts over my ear. Then he’s looping his arms around my waist. “Where do you sleep?”

“Here,” I squeak, motioning to the sofa before us, positive he can feel the pounding of my heart against my ribs.

He releases me and plops onto the gray sofa, swiveling his hips for emphasis. “Does it fold open to a bed?”

I nod.

“That’s cool,” he murmurs, though the sentiment falls flat.

I’m right there with you, buddy . I’d love to have my own room, let alone a real bed, but that’s not in the cards for me right now.

Cam stretches his arms across the back of the sofa and spreads his legs wide. He looks like a fucking GQ model. The temptation to crawl on my knees between his legs is as strong as a magnetic force. But tonight is our first official date. I cannot saturate it in sex. I promised I’d give us a chance, and I meant it—no matter how nervous it makes me. Courage is being scared and doing it anyway, right?

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