Chapter 23
Hailey
She knows. She definitely knows.
There was something impenetrable in her icy blue eyes as Addy walked into our room and found me there with her brother.
Never in our lifetime has she ever seen me spend time with Theo, because I don’t spend time with Theo—until now.
How obvious is it, really, that something has changed this weekend? Can everyone see it?
It’s not that I’m embarrassed about bonding with Theo, despite the way my cheeks blush pink when my mind visualizes the kiss we shared in bed last night.
It’s just . . . awkward. I’d hate for Addy to think I’m betraying her in some capacity, like I’m choosing her brother over her, because that’s definitely not what’s happening here.
I’m just, for once in my life, riding the waves and seeing where they take me.
What happens next is a complete mystery to me, but with Theo, the unknown is exciting.
When there’s a knock on my door and I release the lock to reveal him standing out in the corridor, my heart thrums in my chest.
“Coast clear? No Addy?” Theo jokes, mockingly poking his head into the room to check.
“Coast is clear. No Addy,” I confirm. I step back from the door, holding it open for him as he joins me inside. “She’s with Liam, and I’m not sure if you know, but Melissa is flying home due to a family emergency. Evie is . . . somewhere . . . And I’m not sure where the rest of the guys are?”
“John and Tyler went down to the casino,” Theo fills me in. “Not sure about Connor. Haven’t seen him around.”
A smile creeps onto my lips. “So what I’m hearing is . . .”
“No one is going to bother us tonight,” he finishes, and his smile mirrors mine.
It’s been an hour since we separated, but in that time we’ve both showered and changed out of our swimwear and agreed over some text messages that we’d spend the evening together.
Theo promised he’ll keep me company while I work on my manuscript some more, and this may be the best chance I’ve had so far to really get my head down and make serious progress.
It’s definitely not unappreciated, what he’s giving up to help me.
“So, I was thinking we could order room service?” I suggest, brandishing the menu card in front of him as we move into the room together. “And obviously you have control of the TV.”
“Obviously,” he says. He plucks the room service menu out of my hand, dives onto my bed, and grabs the TV remote.
He’s wearing a pair of gym shorts and a sleeveless tank, which I think if it were literally anyone else wearing it, would give me the ick.
Somehow, with Theo, it’s kind of hot seeing the ripple of his bicep muscles.
“Can you order some of the chicken tenders for me, please? With honey mustard.”
“Sure thing. I’ll call it in,” Theo says.
I get settled into position at the desk.
I open up my laptop, pop in my AirPods and skim over my notepad filled with my frantically scribbled plan of action.
Breaking my story’s finale apart and rebuilding it all over again is not impossible, because I had alternative endings at the ready even before now, but it feels like such a chaotic mess on the page in front of me that it’s starting to feel overwhelming.
I suck in a deep breath and start my Spotify playlist, and then I type, type, type, until eventually Theo prods me on the shoulder and pulls me out of my focus.
“Food is here,” he says as I pluck my AirPod out of my ear. I didn’t even notice the food being delivered, but Theo presents the tray in front of me with a lick of his lips. “Time for you to take a break from the screen.”
I save my document and dive onto the bed, plumping up all of the pillows. When Theo settles into the space next to me, it doesn’t feel awkward or unnatural having him by my side like it might have forty-eight hours ago.
“Exotic chicken tenders for the lady,” he says ironically as he sets my plate down on my lap and whips off the metal lid, and I roll my eyes because he can mock my plain tastes all he wants.
If chicken tenders are on the menu, I will choose them every single time, and I will not be made to feel guilty about it. “And a big, fat steak sandwich for me.”
It’s Saturday night in the entertainment capital of the world, yet I’m perfectly content being on this plush bed, eating off my lap, with Theodore Sinclair next to me. There’s a movie on the TV, but we don’t pay much attention to it.
“Do you think you’re going to do it?” Theo asks, and when I look at him with a blank expression of confusion, he adds, “Finish the book in time.”
“Yes,” I say with a confident nod. “I’ll send it back to my agent tomorrow, and we’ll get a decision from the editor who’s interested on Monday.”
“Imagine you miss the call? It’s a five-hour flight home on Monday.”
“Thanks for that,” I say dryly, poking my elbow into his ribs. Like I haven’t already been paralyzed with fear at the thought of sitting on that plane back to Miami, unable to answer my agent’s calls. Because she will call, whether it’s good news or bad news.
Theo climbs off the bed, clearing away our empty plates. He discards the room service tray outside in the corridor to be collected, then when he returns, he sits down in front of me rather than next to me. “You’ll get the deal,” he says simply.
“As much as I appreciate your faith in me,” I say with a smile, “you can’t be so sure. It’s so incredibly difficult to land a book deal. I’m so, so close that I think if they turn me down at this point, it would hurt more than if they’d never shown any interest in the first place, you know?”
“Then you find another publishing house,” Theo says, like it’s that easy, “and you make the first one kick themselves with regret for passing on your book when it inevitably blows up, becomes a bestseller, and lands a movie deal.”
I laugh until it fades into a wishful sigh. “That’s the dream.”
“What is? A movie deal?”
“Not even that,” I say. “The bestseller part. Ideally, I don’t want to be staring into people’s plaque-ridden mouths for the rest of my life, but it takes more than just landing the book deal to quit your day job.
You need to sell a ton of books. Like, a lot, a lot.
So that’s the dream: sell enough books to quit the dental office and move to New York. ”
Theo’s listening with interest, his features relaxed and curious, but at the mention of New York, his soft smile instantly falters. “Wait. You’d really leave Florida?”
“If I become a hotshot author who actually makes enough money to support myself?” I clarify, raising an eyebrow at what is, to me, a silly question. The answer is so obvious. “Yes.”
“Huh.” Theo bites his lip and glances down at the sheets gathered in the space between us. He’s quiet for a moment as the AC whirs above us and the TV plays on low volume. Gradually, his hand creeps closer to me until his fingers gently brush against mine.
“What?” I prompt, but the word gets stuck in my throat and emerges as a whisper. Theo’s hand is on the cusp of slipping into mine, and my heart thrums in my chest, begging it to do so.
His earnest blue eyes lift from the sheets and he quietly admits, “I’d hate it if you left, Hails.”
A sharp jolt of electricity radiates through me, interfering with the rhythm of my pulses. Theo’s aura is so soft, so pure. There is no second-guessing that deflated look in his gaze, and it suddenly feels like the room around us gets smaller and smaller as the tension heightens.
“Why?” I whisper, swallowing the nervous lump in my throat. I think I know what he’s going to say, and I’m so scared to hear him finally articulate it.
“Because you’ve always been a permanent staple in my life,” he murmurs, his fingers still mindlessly skimming over mine. “You’ve always been around, and I’d . . . Well, I’d miss you if you ever left.”
I can’t bear the toying for a second longer, so I slide my hand fully into his. “Are you this sentimental about all of Addy’s friends?”
“Just you, Hails.”
My breath hitches, and it’s like everything in my system shuts down at his words. My heart stutters, my body freezes, and my brain turns to complete and utter mush. Just you, Hails.
I should get back to work. The laptop is on the desk behind him, beckoning me over to finish what I started, but Theo is right in front of me, eyes locked on mine, our hands interlocked . . . Also beckoning me to finish what we started.
In the moment it takes for my gaze to travel from his eyes down to his lips, a thousand different thoughts flash through my mind. Too many questions to figure out the answers to, so I simply decide: Fuck it.
I reach out for Theo’s T-shirt, pull him toward me, and press my lips to his.
He immediately welcomes my touch, like he’s been waiting his entire life for it.
We rise onto our knees on the bed, chest-to-chest, hungrily clawing at one another.
His hands rake through my hair so intensely, he pulls my ponytail loose.
I part my lips to deepen the kiss as his tongue works teasingly, seductively against my own, but it’s not enough.
I want more. More from him, more of him.
Oh, God, why do I want Theodore this badly?
Now I’m tearing at his T-shirt, tugging on the hem and whipping it over his head to reveal his sculpted body that he’s so cocky about, but he’s allowed to be smug when his abs are this defined. I bite my lip and trail my hands over his stomach. His body is like carved stone.
“You didn’t want to touch these abs yesterday,” Theo says with a smirk, watching me with a salacious gaze.
“I changed my mind,” I say shyly. My fingertips fall delicately to the waistband of his boxers poking out from his sweatpants, and Theo’s confident smirk fades as he nervously gulps. “Tell me something, Theo.”
“Anything.”