Chapter 45
Forty-Five
S ybil
The cast is drunk off their asses, and Perry is gleeful about it. “Give your talent unlimited alcohol, and they’ll give you good television.” His words. Not mine. I don’t protest, but I keep a close eye on Benton.
Sometimes I swear the man forgets cameras and microphones are following his every move. It’s like he’s so acclimated to being on the show he forgets to check himself. He’s not making my job easy, that’s for sure.
We’ve been filming all day, and luckily the cast is getting along.
We sent a crew to get b-roll of the island and holiday happenings, but our people are staying put.
We’ve had lawn games and a pool party set up for them, as well as beach access, plenty of barbecue food, and endless drinks.
Perry even got a private fireworks show approved by the city, so we didn’t have to film in a crowd.
Right now, the six of them are all cuddled on the beach, cozy as fuck, with cameras behind them. The rest of us sit by the pool, watching the fireworks display color the blanked sky.
Cooper and I sit with our legs in the pool, and I’m painfully aware our fingers are only inches apart. Our necks are craned upward, and booming fireworks drum in tune with my booming heart.
He’s all I’ve thought about for two days.
I’m working? Cooper .
I’m driving? Cooper .
Sleeping? Eating? Talking? Cooper . Cooper. Cooper.
I’m driving myself crazy. If he would just give me a signal that he wanted more than friendship, I would take it.
But it’s like he’s completely unaffected.
God, it doesn’t help that he looks fucking amazing tonight.
His silky brown hair has grown longer than usual, windswept by the breeze coming off the ocean.
The planes of his chiseled face light up with each flashing firework, the reds and blues and oranges making him appear almost ethereal.
But he’s not ethereal; he’s human and masculine and primal.
The cords of muscles in his body, the veins in his sun-tanned arms, the rise and fall of his chest…
They’re doing unmentionable things to me.
And his scent? Oh my God, his scent. It’s always been pleasant, but lately it’s intoxicating, as if my body has become attuned to the salty spice of his signature cologne.
Cooper’s not a boy anymore.
Cooper is a man.
And I want him.
I’m forced to stare at him and hope he doesn’t catch me looking, like a silly teenager with a crush.
In an ideal world—aka, my fantasy world—our pinkies would touch. He’d take my hand and lead me to bed within the hour.
But his pinky stays where it is.
The fireworks end, and we climb to our feet.
Disappointed, I follow the cast and crew to the house for the afterparty. Turns out, working on a holiday is still working on a holiday. I’m not complaining, but it’s not the same.
Perry sidles up next to me, nudging me in the arm. “You okay there, friend?”
“Yeah,” I lie.
“Holidays are hard when you’ve lost a loved one.” It’s a gentle confirmation he understands why I’m not enjoying myself.
“I think it would be worse if I tried to carry on traditions as normal. The distraction of work helps,” I confess.
He nods. “I get it. You do you.”
“How’s your sister?” I ask. Madeline underwent surgery right before we left for Nantucket.
“She got discharged this morning. She’s doing pretty well. Thanks for asking.”
“That’s a relief.”
“It is.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his dark eyes. “You’re right about work. It’s the perfect distraction.” He lifts his chin to where Benton and Gloria are making out in the hot tub. “I want to apologize about what happened. I promise your personal life won’t end up on the show.”
I give him a rueful smile. “I get why you asked. It’s your job is to make good television.”
“Not at the expense of my producer… and more importantly, my friend,” he says. “I never should’ve asked you for that.”
I nod toward Benton. “What about at his expense? Is he going to get a terrible edit at the end of all this?”
Perry shrugs, his face guarded. “It depends on how he behaves.”
That’s exactly what I’m worried about. I can’t stop Benton from being a fuck-boy on national television, and even though Gloria is kind of crazy, she’s going to have every woman in America on her side if this thing blows up.
By midnight, filming ends, and the cast goes to bed. Oddly enough, I’m not tired, and my body buzzes with untapped energy. Maybe there’s too much on my mind, or maybe it’s because this is my favorite holiday, and I’d hardly call working a celebration.
“Hey, Valentine.” Cooper catches me as I head out. “I’m having a little afterparty bonfire at my place for the crew. You up for it?”
A smile spreads across my face, and twenty minutes later, I pull up to the King’s residence. I haven’t been here in years, and even in the darkness, the sight floods me with countless memories.
I love this house—love it so much that once upon a time I wanted to get married here.
We use our phones as flashlights as we make the trek down the steep stairs to the beach. A few people carry cases of beer, and someone has a speaker with trendy music quietly thumping. The bonfire isn’t lit yet, but it doesn’t take long to get going.
The tide is low, so the waves aren’t too intense, not like they’ll be in the morning. I have the sudden urge to go swimming. I don’t act on that urge. Like a good girl, I stay next to the fire with the others and chat while listening to the songs change over.
Cooper and Perry light off a few fireworks and screech like little kids, and I end up on the sand in a full-bellied laugh. Pushing myself back up, I brush away the sand and stop myself from longing for the things I can’t have anymore.
A wave of regret hits me anyway, so I wander along the dark empty stretch of beach, the bluff on my left and the ocean on my right.
I’ve walked this beach countless times. The crush of the waves is as familiar as my own heartbeat.
Even though the sand is always moving, it hasn’t changed a bit.
The stars twinkle above me in a dance with the darkness that I’ve watched a million times.
Nothing compares to the King’s house and beach and seclusion. Nothing compares to this.
Nobody compares to Cooper.
This crush isn’t going away, is it?
I don’t know what to do. My heart aches with unrequited longing.
“There you are.” His voice catches up to me, and I turn. My vision has adjusted to the night, so I can see him well enough, but I hope he can’t see me too well. He’ll know I’m upset.
I give him a small smile. “Just out for a walk.”
“Are you okay?” He reaches out, catching my hand. I shouldn’t, but I let him have it. His palm feels so warm against mine, so comforting, so right.
“I’m… I don’t know… confused, I guess,” I confess.
He squeezes my fingers and steps closer. “Are you… confused about me?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly.”
“You know what you want?”
“Yes.”
“And… are you sad about it?”
I shrug, but the closer he gets, the more my heart hopes. Every nerve ending in my body is alive, firing off brighter than all the fireworks.
“I’m sad, too,” he says.
I blink. “Why?”
Cooper doesn’t talk about his feelings, especially the hard ones, but this moment feels open with me in a way he’s never been before.
“I screwed up. I never should’ve… done things with you. I’m so sorry.”
My gaze drops as I try to hide my frown.
“Don’t be sorry.” I step closer. “I liked it, Cooper. Don’t you get that? I liked it, and I like you.” He tilts my chin up with his tender hand, and our gazes lock. This is the time to be brave. “I wanted you to do it, and I wish you’d do it again.”
He shakes his head slowly, confusion clearing for something much more heated, as his hand travels to the back of my neck and holds tight. “What do you want?”
A breath hitches in my chest, and I search for the right words but come up short. All I can do is hope he can read the longing in my expression.
Wrapping an arm around my lower back, he draws me to him so fast and so hard our bodies crash into each other. His hard cock is an unmistakable confession, even before he parts his lips. “It’s pretty fucking clear what I want, and I’ll take anything you’ll give me.”
I should tell him I want to be exclusive, but I go with the safer option. “Maybe we could try the friends with benefits thing? We’ve both been successful with that, and I think we could be successful together.”
God help me… I rub against him, and he groans with molten heat.
I tremble under his touch, expecting him to kiss me, but he hesitates, those hooded eyes searching mine.
The crashing waves in the background seem to go silent as I wait for his answer on bated breath.
The moment stretches out as if on a tight wire, both of us waiting for the other to make the first move.
Do we steady ourselves?
Do we fall?
Or do we jump?
“Fuck it,” he growls, lips crashing to mine.