Page 46 of Ex- Factor
“I did.”
“I hate my birthday”
“You anymore won’t if you stick with me.” I rebutted.
“My birthday was five months ago.”
I hit him with a “so.”
“I hate surprises,” he said, teeth flashing in the biggest smile I’d seen on him in weeks.
“You don’t,” I shot back.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I really don’t.”
I laced my fingers through his and tugged him toward the cabin before the others even climbed out of their cars. The place looked like somebody built it straight off a rich-people Pinterest board—floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped in reclaimed wood, hammocks swaying between trees, a hot tub steaming on the deck. Inside was all warm light and soft touches: thick comforters on king beds, rain showers, an espresso machine on the counter.
We’d barely dropped our bags in our room when Naomi’s voice rang out from downstairs.
“Y’all standing around like this ain’t a celebration. Grab your bags and get unpacked!”
We went downstairs, and everyone was unpacking trunks and backseats, dragging duffels and food coolers to the main room in the cabin. There were five rooms total—West and Aja, Jonas and Naomi, Cassius and Angel. Everybody had their own room. The fifth was supposed to be for Ekon and his nanny, but Cassius said he needed to stay home.
“I like this, Eshe,” Angel said, tossing her curls as she met us at the stairs. “You did good.”
Cassius flopped onto the plush sectional in front of the fireplace and said, “This ain’t camping. This a retreat for soft folks.”
“Shut up, Cassius.” Angel laughed.
After that, everybody went to do their own thing. I left Cassius to go help Aja and Angel unpack the kitchen.
Later, I found Silas in our room. He was barefoot, standing near the wall of windows, shirtless, a beer in one hand. The view was beautiful—the sun was leaking through the trees, casting everything in gold and fire.
I slid up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “You so fine, you should be on a magazine cover. You know that?”
He smirked, glancing over his shoulder. “You look like you should be on aSmoothmagazine cover.”
I squinted at him. “What you know aboutSmoothMagazine?”
He laughed. “Jonas showed me one freshman year. I started my own subscription. I used to beat off to them nightly.”
I gasped, covering my mouth. “Pervert!”
He turned, catching me around the waist and pulling me against him.
“But you like it,” he murmured, leaning down, his tongue brushing against my bottom lip.
Heat spread through me. “I shouldn’t…” I whispered, though my hands were already tracing his chest.
“You should,” he said, kissing me—slow at first, then deeper, until the taste of beer and him blurred everything else out.
I pulled back after a short while.
“I do.” I tapped his chest. “Now let me go. Me and Angel are cooking.” I shoved off of him and left before he could retaliate.
I hoped his birthday week would let him relax enough to stop stressing.
If it didn’t, I didn’t know what to do to get back old Silas.
