It’s funny how it’s somehow all come back to her.Even so many years later, she’d managed to lift my spirits and make me believe that everything was going to be okay.The brightest spot in the darkest time of my life.
Then again, if anyone was going to be that for me, it always would’ve been Serenity Ramirez. I didn’t know why I was so surprised about it. She used to be everything to me, and if I didn’t watch myself, she would become exactly that all over again.
CHAPTER8
SERENITY
It was the day before Bart and I left on our trip and I was still in a state of mild disbelief. My suitcase was open on my bed, half packed already, and I still couldn’t believe I was actually packing for months traveling around the globe with my ex-boyfriend.
Essentially, I was being paid to be an escort. Bart might’ve told me that he wasn’t going to expect sex, but I knew what kind of chemistry we had when we were together. Given how recently we had given in to said chemistry and slept together right off the bat, I also knew that holding back was going to be hard for both of us.
If we were going to be in such close proximity to each other for so long, we weren’t going to be able to resist. I would’ve put money on it—if I had any to gamble with. Either way, we were going to have to be careful.
I didn’t know how much he’d dated since we’d broken up, but I did know that we’d been each other’s first serious relationship. We hadn’t planned it that way, but as soon as we’d decided to start dating, that had been it. We’d both committed to the long haul. There hadn’t been any teenage angst about it, nor had either of us felt like we’d been missing out when we’d gotten to college and everyone else had been sowing their wild oats.
Bart and I weren’t capable of casualanything, but especially not casual sex. If we slept together again and kept doing it, we would both be in danger of losing our hearts to the other.
If I was going to lose my heart to anyone, it would be him I wanted to lose it to, but he was still grieving, and I couldn’t commit if—and it was a big if—I might be getting really busy once my album dropped. Neither of us were in a space where we would be able to nurture a relationship properly, and I didn’t want to risk messing it up just because the timing was wrong.
There was no point in worrying about it, though. What would be, would be. The best I could do was to take it like it came and own every decision I made along the way.
As I rummaged through my closet, I picked a few more shirts, a combination of long and short sleeves, and then carried them over to my suitcase before going back to the closet for some shorts. Packing for a trip like this was near impossible.
I’d never been abroad before, and even though we would be coming back, I didn’t know when that would be. My ducks needed to be in a row, and I would need to make sure that I planned for every eventuality.
Since I refused to take any more money from him than just what he’d promised to pay for my album, I wouldn’t be able to afford to shop much, which meant I had to pack all the clothes I needed. I planned on taking some jobs for clients while we were traveling, if I could, just to keep afloat and to be able to cover my own basic expenses here at home and abroad.
Saying yes had been the most insane thing I’d ever done, but I didn’t think I would regret it. It had been too wonderful of an opportunity to let it pass me by, and since there was nothing technically keeping me here at the moment, in the end, I’d realized it was now or never.
Whether or not I kept writing for clients, I would definitely keep writing for myself and I knew Bart wouldn’t be surprised about it. Songwriting was as much a part of me as breathing. He knew that.
A surge of excitement swept through me when I pictured the places I would be writing in for the foreseeable future.
As nervous as I was about what was going to happen between us and whether we’d be able to keep our distance from each other the way we should, I was also beyond excited about what lay ahead. It was sure to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience and I was expecting inspiration for songs to be lurking around every corner.
In fact, even packing was sparking an idea for a song in my head. Leaving on a jet plane had been an iconic classic for longer than I’d been alive, and as soon as I zipped up my suitcase, the familiar opening lyric sounded in my head.
All my bags are packed and I’m ready to go.While I wasn’t expecting the song that was taking shape in my head to become anywhere near as timeless as that one was, I’d be happy if it made it onto a road-trip playlist for just one person.
I looked around my bedroom, realizing that I really was all packed except for the last few stragglers that I’d have to throw in tomorrow morning. Stuff like basic toiletries so I could have a shower before I left.
I had achieved what I’d thought was going to be impossible—fitting all the must-haves for every climate into one bag. Smiling, I fell back on my bed. An excited squeal escaped me as I kicked my legs and writhed around on the mattress, not able to contain the complete joy I was feeling.
Wow. Wow wow wow. My hands flew up to my face and I squealed into them again. The song was threatening to burst out of me, and I hopped off the bed to grab my notebook and the pencil slid into the loop at the side of it.
Sitting back down on the mattress, I crossed my legs and leaned back against my headboard, my mind swirling with ideas for opening lyrics. The more I focused on it, though, the more I kept thinking about Bart and the fact that he was the reason I was even going on this adventure.
A journey of a lifetime with my ex and, once upon a time, my best friend. How was I supposed to accurately capture how I felt about that in words? The harder I tried, the more I got tripped up by memories of him. Of us together.
Not surprisingly, as the montage played out in my head, I started remembering the hotter parts of our relationship. Not only back in the day but just last week at Tanner’s house. As incredibly sexy as Bart was, he didn’t have that cocky, “I’m great in the bedroom” swagger about him that so many men did.
Mostly, the guys who had that really weren’t great in the bedroom, but that set aside, he just didn’t seem like the type who would be perfectly content to spend days between a woman’s legs. He gave off more of an aura of having more important things to get to than to waste his time on that.
Despite that, he’d approached sex with the same studious energy as he did everything else. Back when we’d started up our intimate relationship, he’d researched sex like he would be expected to write a master’s thesis on it, and then I’d had the literal pleasure of him trying everything he’d read about out on me.
The end result of his efforts had beenfan-fucking-tasticand our most recent tryst had proven that he hadn’t lost that wow factor. In my opinion, the man was a sexual savant.And no, I’m not exaggerating.
The boy—man, now—was smart about everything, and sex was no exception. Just thinking about the mind-blowing orgasms I’d had as a result of his meticulous attention to detail got me all hot and bothered.