Page 34 of Tourist Trap

He closes his eyes like the confession pains him.

“And I kept brushing you off,” he says, then sighs, adding his own side of the disaster. “He invited me last minute and made it seem like he was being friendly, a brotherly gesture. It turned out he needed someone to foot the bill.”

“No,” I whisper, eyes wide as guilt rips through me. “Oh, Miles, I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head like it's no big deal, but to me it is: I should haveknownthat was why Paul invited him, should have objected to such an extravagant night, but I was in such delusion then, that I didn’t see the red flags waving.

“I should have seen it coming, it was typical Paul. He’s always doing shit like that. But he told me you wanted this big thing and were giving him shit and…” His voice trails off, and a soul-deep sigh leaves his chest before he puts on a fake smile. “It doesn’t matter. We’re up at the ass crack of dawn for fun, goddammit. We’re not going to let him bring this down, too.”

I stare at him for a long moment before finally, I nod and smile.

“Lucky Charms or Fruit Loops?”

* * *

“That thing’s a weapon,” he says ten minutes later after I downed nearly half of my coffee, tipping his chin toward my pink water bottle, plastered with stickers.

I gasp. “Don’t talk about Margo like that.”

“Margo?”

“My water bottle.”

“Full, that thing probably weighs like forty pounds.” I roll my eyes. “I’m serious. If you threw that at someone, you’d probably kill them.”

“God, you’re so dramatic,” I say with a laugh. “Leave my emotional support water bottle out of this.”

“Your emotional support water bottle?”

“Yeah. I bring her everywhere. I feel naked without her.”

With that, his eyes dip to my chest where my hard nipples are poking through the thin shirt. I bite my lip, and with his burning gaze, a chill runs through me, tightening them further.

Goddammit.

He clears his throat, then stands, moving to the edge of the deck. He looks over his shoulder and says, “This never gets old.”

When I look behind him, I see the sky is a radiant orange, with a bright yellow center.

“Oh my god, it’s beautiful,” I whisper, moving to stand next to him and watching the colors fill the sky, the light reflecting off the ocean. It’s the most gorgeous sunrise I’ve ever seen, with the way the water amplifies it.

It’s absolutely breathtaking.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he says low, his body close to mine and something wistful in his words, but I can’t bear to look away from the magic before us.

A moment later, my alarm goes off upstairs. I turn to Miles to smile at him, but his gaze is already on me, a little dazed, like he’s been staring for some time. My breath catches in my chest, and the sound of my alarm fades away. His hand lifts, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against the skin there.

They’re calloused and rough from what I assume are long hours in the shop, and for a slight, infinitesimal moment, I wonder what they would feel like on other parts of my body.

Without thinking, I lift my hand, placing it on his cheek and brushing my thumb along his mustache the way I did that night in the ocean. I’m shocked when his hand lifts, capturing mine against his face and holding it there before he finally speaks.

“Is that your alarm?”

I nod, then swallow as his hand drops.

“Yeah. Memorial Day weekend. Gotta…” I clear my throat, suddenly feeling tight. “I have to get there early.” He nods but doesn’t move, and neither do I. It feels like if I do, this moment might shatter, and I’ll never get it back.

“I should get going for the day, too,” he says. “I haven’t taken my run, and I try to do that before the boardwalk is flooded with tourists.”

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