Page 35 of Faking It at Sea

A sigh sifted through her pink lips. “Bug, I love you to death, you know that, but you two had crazy chemistry. Everyone who saw you knew it.”

“It wasn’t real.” I’d used this line with her before, and I still couldn’t tell who I was trying to convince.

Thoughts of Sutton haunted me every day. His memory invaded my dreams, leaving me a sweaty, miserable mess every time I woke up. And with just one impulsive internet search for his bike shop, I found enough candid photos of him to make my heart hurt.

“Maybe it didn’t start out that way,” Missy argued. “But I don’t believe for a second that you would have slept with him if you didn’t feel something real.”

I thought back to that night for the thousandth time and closed my eyes. I wasn’t ready to feel everything he made me feel that night. Somehow, he found the tiny crack he’d etched in my armor during our stupid little game and broke it wide open, leaving me feeling more vulnerable than I had in a long time.

Maybe ever.

It was equal parts perfect and terrifying, but when I woke up in his arms, the fear took over. Fear of what I could feel for him. Of what it would do to me if he didn’t feel the same way. It ate away at my confidence, and adding fuel to the fire of my doubts was the fact that we’d had unprotected sex.

Birth control might be effective, but it wasn’t like it came with a one-hundred-percent guarantee. What I did was stupid—beyond reckless—and I knew better. I just couldn’t help myself when it came to Sutton.

Did I regret sneaking out? Yeah. I felt like a monster even while I was doing it, but I was overwhelmed and desperately needed to clear my mind. Except, when I saw him hours later, his haunted blue eyes searching the crowd as he came down the gangway, I still couldn’t bring myself to go to him, and I hated myself even more.

That was when I knew for sure that I was sabotaging myself. It was easier to sink back into the safety of my quiet life than it was to risk my heart and my future by starting something real with Sutton. Only now I was more miserable than ever.

Slumping back in my seat, I folded my arms over my chest. “You win. I screwed up. Is that what you want to hear?”

A knowing smile smoothed some of the judgment from Missy’s expression. “That’s step one.”

“And what’s step two?”

“Getting your ass in your car and driving to Colorado.”

I barked out a laugh, but from the look on her face, she was serious. “I don’t know where he lives.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “You have the internet, and he builds custom motorcycles for a living. Tell me you haven’t already found him, and I’ll show you a liar.”

Sometimes it felt like she knew me a little too well.

Of course I’d looked him up. I’d imagined showing up at his shop almost every night since, but I always managed to talk myself out of it.

“What if I romanticized this whole thing in my head? What if it wasn’t real for him?”

“What if it was?”

“What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

She lifted her chin. “What if he does?”

“Shouldn’t I at least call first? Showing up feels...”

“Turn the tables, Bug. What would you want him to do?”

Assuming he felt anything close to what I was feeling? “Show up in person.”

“How’s your work schedule?” she asked, her gaze panning to my desk.

“Nothing pressing,” I admitted.

I’d spent the last few weeks trying to lose myself in my work by building and reviewing emergency management plans for every scenario I could dream up. When that wasn’t enough to distract me, I would go for a run. And when that still wasn’t enough to silence my memories of Sutton, I resorted to curling up on my couch, turning on a heart wrenching romance movie, and crying until I was too tired to keep my swollen eyes open.

“Then why are you still here?” Missy asked, point blank.

I spent the rest of the day wrestling with that question, and by sunset, I’d called my mom, emailed Missy my planned route from Idaho Falls to Stonemore Heights, and packed up my little SUV.

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