Page 57 of For One Night Only

Oh hell.

“Alright, then I’ll just be over here trying not to blush,” I admit.

“I like it when you blush.”

“Well, you’re the only one who makes me.” I don’t know why Isaid it, because suddenly the back of the car is flooded with subtext and history and pure longing. God, I want her.

“Caleb, I—” she begins, but the car comes to a halt.

“Is this it?” the driver asks. I want to curse them for interrupting, but it’s a good thing they did, because I forgot the two of us weren’t alone in this car. It’s this thing Valerie does, like she draws all the light in a space to her and everyone else fades to black.

And I’m like a moth, powerless to look away.

We thank the driver and climb out of the vehicle. It’s a warm summer night, but there’s just enough of a salty breeze coming off the ocean to make it bearable. Valerie closes her eyes for a second and inhales.

“I love the water,” she says, tilting her head back to bask in the sea air.

“I know.” When we were kids, we spent summers at the city pool, since it was cheap and close and didn’t require a parent to take us down to the waterfront. But we both always wished we were out in nature. So when we went out on our first tour, we found ways to see the water. It’s one of the things we used to make time for whenever we were on a new stop. We didn’t have much time for hiking or exploring, but we’d try to find an hour to drive to the ocean, or a lake, or a river.

Sometimes we’d bring a guitar and write a little, and sometimes we’d just let the water center us for a bit.

Valerie’s smiling like she remembers those days all too well.

“I still do that when I’m somewhere new. Try to find water,” she says. “It’s not the same…” I almost think she wants to addwithout youto that, but she doesn’t. “But yeah, I try.”

“Maybe we can walk on the beach after the movie,” I say. The night hasn’t even begun and I’m still desperate to make it last.

“I’d like that,” Valerie says. “Now let’s go find those magical food trucks.”

She grabs my hand and leads me to the trucks, which are set up in a square like an ever-changing outdoor food court. There’s everything from Korean barbecue to vegan burgers, Cajun to Mexican-Asian fusion, but Valerie makes a beeline for the gourmet grilled cheese truck.

Every moment with Valerie this summer stirs up another memory from our past. This one is of late, bleary nights on a tour bus with a hot plate plugged into the cigarette lighter, feasting on a loaf of bread and a stack of Kraft American Singles. We didn’t have a ton of money coming in right away, so we tried to limit eating out on that first tour, but the results were mixed. When it was Valerie’s turn to cook, she always managed to burn the sandwiches because she was never paying attention.

“I haven’t eaten a grilled cheese inyears,” she admits, a little sheepish, like she remembers the charred crust as much as I do.

“Dairy is terrible for your voice, you know.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “Okay, Mr. Sloane, did you learn that in music school?”

“Actually, I did,” I say, grinning.

“Good thing we’re not singing tonight, then,” she says as we find our spot in line. “What else did you learn in class?”

I pause, trying to think of something that will make her laugh, or at least keep the conversation flowing. And then it hits me. It’s a bad idea, but…maybe I just want to see her reaction. I step closer, lowering my voice so only she can hear.

“Breath control. I can go a long time without coming up for air.”

17

Valerie

Breath control.

A rush of heat races down my skin, my breath catching as the memories and fantasies collide and flood my senses. I can think of a perfect use for those new skills—

What the fuck is he trying to do to me?

Last night already brought us closer than ever, and flirting is one thing…but if Caleb keeps this up, I might explode here right on the beach.

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