Page 62 of Dirty Temptation

I’ve always loved the beach but rarely spend time at one. Who knows, as Payton’s friend I might be invited back from time to time. Unlikely, but you never know.

I doubt I’ll be flown in a helicopter again.

I spot a male figure and after few minutes, as I get closer, I realize its Atlas.

I stop, unsure what to do.

The last thing I want him to think is that I came out here to see him.

Kissing him in front of everyone was a mistake. I was caught up in the moment and got carried away.

When Atlas shook my hand, it was the strangest feeling. An insight into our future as just friends. After being so intimate with him a few times now— including in the restrooms at the winery,omg—I wonder at how it’s going to feel.

To be in a room with him and not feel anything.

To watch him with another woman.

To feel something and see him with someone else.

It will eventually happen.

I get closer and noticed that he hasn’t spotted me. I watch as he turns toward the ocean, his phone at his ear. It might be his body language, but he looks tense.

Stressed.

He runs his hand through his hair and drops his arm, frustrated.

Is he talking to his girlfriend?

I don’t know whether to slow as I approach and wave or go wide and pretend I don’t see him. And if he does have a girlfriend, then I need to stop sleeping with him.

Atlas glances in my direction and his face softens. His hand goes in his pocket as the wind flicks at his hair. But his eyes never leave mine.

So I walk to him.

It would be awkward if I didn’t.

“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says roughly into the phone. “I’m chill.” He laughs and glances out toward the water. “I’ll be happier when I hear from you tomorrow.”

Somehow I know it’s a woman.

It grates at my nerves, but I don’t want to raise thewho is Gregquestion, so I zip my lips.

I wrap my arms around my middle, feeling the chill of the later afternoon and consider just walking off.

“Bye,” Atlas says and ends the call. He pockets the phone and turns to me. “You look cold.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I say, ignoring his comment.

“You didn’t.”

That’s all he says.

No explanation as to who it was.

Not that he needs to give me one. He’s not my boyfriend, but regardless I feel my triggers rising to the surface.

They have no place here.

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