That doesn’t mean it won’t, but for this moment I want to pretend that everything is fine and that we didn’t just make a mistake. Nothing in my body holds any regret for what just happened, and so I push my thoughts aside. “I don’t want to leave,” I say, letting myself relax.
“You don’t have to.”
“Lifeguarding,” I say.
Eric laughs, the vibration soothing. “You’ve still got a couple of hours.”
I sink down into a place of peace and stillness. Not quite sleep, but almost. With Eric’s hand drawing patterns on my spine, I let myself truly rest for the first time in a long time.
10
Eric
Present
Holding Seph while she’s sleeping is as perfect as I hoped it would be. I don’t even know how long she’s been drifting, but I don’t care. I’ll hold her however long she likes. I meant what I said earlier. If we need more time, I can make us more time. If that’s what it takes to show her that this is what she needs, then I’ll do it. The raw, brutal part of me wants to lock us in this cabin together and do nothing but fuck until she can admit that she wants me every bit as much as I’ve wanted her all these years.
Not realistic, but I’m still tempted. I have responsibilities in this job, but this—this is even bigger than that. This is a second chance, even if she’s not sure of that yet. When she opens her eyes, it’s going to be the real world again, and I’m going to have to convince her that this wasn’t a mistake.
It’s not. I know it so deep in my gut that I can’t question it. But there’s also a lot that we have to talk about. Like Leena. We’re going to have to be okay with that, and because we’re not teenagers anymore it might not be the easiest conversation. But not right now. For the moment I’m content simply to hold her and to pretend that the rest of world and responsibilities and exes and the camp outside do not exist. Pretend that the only thing that that matters is the feeling of her skin under mine and the sound of her pleasure under my hands.
Somewhere behind me my phone vibrates. I think it’s in my pants on the floor. A phone call and not a text. If someone really needs me and they can’t find me on the phone they’ll knock on the door. It’s the first day of camp. No one can have an emergency that bad already. Right?
Thankfully the phone doesn’t vibrate again, and I let myself drift while still holding her. But even half asleep I can’t seem to make myself stop moving my hands across her skin. Little movements of my fingers that convince me that we’re here and that this is actually real.
I’m not sure how long passes while I listen to Seph breath beside me. But every second is perfect. I don’t want to move, because it might break this spell. And as much as I want to, I can’t ask her to start sleeping in this bed with me. She has campers to take care of. They might notice if she was gone.
After a while she takes a deeper breath and stirs, stretching in my arms. “I didn’t think that I would fall asleep,” she says softly.
I brush my knuckles down her cheek, and she closes her eyes again. “You can fall asleep with me anytime.”
Seph tucks her face into my neck, and I’m not sure if she’s avoiding the statement or grateful for it. “I should go.”
“You don’t have to.”
She laughs softly. “I don’t want to, but it’s not like I’m not going to see you around.”
I’ve never been more grateful to be stuck in one place for the entire summer. Across the room my phone buzzes again, and I groan.
“Answer it.”
I slowly pull away from her, immediately missing her warmth and softness, and find my cellphone in the pocket of my jeans. It’s a voicemail from my agency in New York, and my stomach flips with dread. They weren’t happy with me putting everything musical on hold for two months while I do this.
There’s a text message too, and I open it. Skimming the contents. It’s another plea begging me to ditch camp and come back to the city. There’s a small July festival that has an opening that would be perfect for me and my brand.
I close my eyes, feeling the familiar conflict.
For years I clawed my way up through the music industry. I’ve done everything imaginable from playing for other people to being a session guitarist to writing songs for artists far bigger than me. But I’m good. I know I am. And after moving to New York a few years ago, I finally started to play my own shows and then other people thought that I was good too.