In fact, he said he was going to bail on tonight too, but I’m not sure if that’s true or if he was just trying to make me feel better. But why?
I have absolutely no idea.
I also can’t believe I told him so much. Maybe it doesn’t seem like a lot to most, but I never talk about my parents. I don’t talk about feeling unloved. No one wants to hear that. Not from me. Not someone the world considers beloved.
I don’t know why I said it.
But for some reason, his thinking I’m just another entitled brat was eating at me. And I am. I know that. But things aren’t always as they seem. I may not know a lot about the world, but I know enough to know that.
“So now that we’re friends, I have to ask . . .” I turn to look at him, a cocky grin on his handsome face.
“We’re friends?”
He laughs, stretching his legs out in the sand and nods. “Yeah. I think we are.” He turns to me. “Aren’t we?”
I laugh, almost stunned by the noise and shake my head, trying to shake away the surprise. “Okay, so what do you want to ask?”
I brace myself. Atlas doesn’t strike me as someone who holds back. “Why did you post that picture and then run?”
Yup. Definitely doesn’t hold back. I stare at him in stunned silence for a while before looking away and down at the sand between my fingers. “I didn’t post it. Someone else did.”
“On your account?”
I nod once, a pain shooting through my chest from the betrayal still burning there. “Yes.” I meet his eyes again, seeing his concern. “I had this boyfriend . . .” I clear my throat after my voice cracks on the last word. “Sort of. I couldn’t really commit to him.”
He apparently does hold back a little because he seems to be thinking that over before taking a deep breath. I wait for him to call me a liar or ask more questions, but he doesn’t. He just hops up from the sand and holds his hand out for me.
I look up at him self-consciously but then take his hand and let him help me up. I’m still waiting for him to say something as I get to my feet. “I think you need some fun,” is all he says when he holds onto my hand and starts walking.
I follow him cautiously. “Fun?” I barely squeak and clear my throat again.
“Yeah. Fun.” He grins at me as I catch up, my hand still in his.
“I’m not getting naked.”
“Now, that’s a shame,” he says, still grinning, and I nearly stop walking all together. I thought he was gorgeous before. But seeing him like this . . . playful. It’s . . . wow.
“What do you have in mind?”
He stops walking for a moment and looks out at the ocean. “You have a pool, right? At your villa?”
I nod slowly. “Y-yes.”
His smile deepens as he faces me. “How about a swim?”
My throat feels dry, and I have to really work at answering him. I mean, my voice does not want to work. It’s stuck. I feel like an idiot, but I finally manage a nod and a quiet, “O- okay.”
We head back to my villa, and I’m not sure I’ve ever been this nervous in my whole life. I mean, I work in front of a camera for millions of people to see, but I’ve never felt like this before.
I hope he can’t feel how sweaty my palms are. I unlock the door with the wristband I was given, and we head inside, releasing each other’s hands as I close and lock the door behind us.
I think about the other day when we were standing in this exact room. About what a brat I was. About the fit I threw, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Um . . . Atlas—”
But he cuts me off. “Let’s go outside.”
I look down at the swim trunks he’s wearing and then back at his face. “I need to change first.”
His gaze turns heated as it runs over my entire body, making me flush with instant desire. This is so not where I expected this night to go. “Okay. I’ll wait here.”
I feel like I stand there forever before I finally get my feet to move. Going into the bedroom, I shuck off my clothes and find a pair of blue and white tie-dyed trunks and debate, for what feels like another eternity, about whether to put on a shirt.
I decide against it, glancing at my reflection in the mirror above the dresser. I look good. I work my ass off to look this good.
I don’t need a shirt.
I grab two towels and walk out of my room, seeing Atlas leaning against the wall, waiting for me. Again, his eyes sweep over my frame, and I feel myself tense, flexing every muscle. He smiles.
“You ready?”
I nod, stunted and unmoving, when he pushes the patio door open to the backyard. Finally, I get my stupid legs to work and follow him. But I stop again when he reaches up behind his neck, using one hand to tug his shirt over his head.
Yeah. I’m not sure I’ll ever move again.
Atlas is beyond beautiful. Tan and muscular. And yup—he does have tattoos. A couple on his right bicep along with one over his left pec. His body is absolutely drool-worthy, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Just staring at him like a creeper when he tosses his shirt on the glass table and turns to face me.
A look of concern falls over his handsome features as he freezes. “Are you okay?”
Speak, Elijah. You can do it.
I don’t get actual words to come out, but I do manage a nod.
He raises a brow curiously. “Are you sure?”
I nod again. Then I finally croak, “Fine. I’m fine. Totally fine.”
Wow, great communication skills.
What the hell is wrong with me? I had no trouble finding my voice the other day in Holden’s bar, but now I’m completely tongue-tied because we went on a short walk, sat on the beach, and now we’re going swimming?
This is crazy.
I’m Elijah Hunt.
I try to pep-talk myself, but it’s not working. “Let’s swim,” I barely manage to say, and he offers me an easy smile, nodding in the direction of the pool’s steps. “After you.”
I take a deep breath and try to steady my racing heart as I lay the towels down next to his discarded shirt and head into the pool. But the nerves are still very much there.
Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me?
CHAPTER NINE
Atlas
What the hell am I doing?
Well, currently, I’m trying my best not to stare like an idiot at Elijah Hunt’s sculpted back and that impeccable ass clinging to his blue and white trunks.
That’s what I’m doing.
I never mix with the guests. It’s not smart. I know that.
But hell, what’s a little temporary fun?
It can’t really be that stupid, can it?
I mean, he’s Elijah Hunt. And he wasn’t really involved in a big scandal. Some asshole posted a picture of him kissing a guy—not fucking cool at all. Someone coming out is a big deal, and it should always and only be up to that person.
So the fact that he had his choice taken away? God, that just pisses me off. And okay, maybe I feel some sympathy for Elijah. That kind of betrayal hurts, and it hurts deep down inside.
He wades into the water, and I follow him, both of us stopping when the water is mid-chest level. He turns so he’s facing me, his hands drifting through the warm water.