Page 25 of Ex- Factor

Silas was quiet the whole ride, staring out the window like his thoughts had more weight than the road under us.

Usually, he’d be talking or joking, but he hadn’t been himself since his parents showed up.

I wanted to shake him, force the words out of his mouth, because the silence felt like a third party in our new relationship—but I didn’t want to be pushy.

I gripped the wheel tighter and bit back the urge to just ask, “You gon’ keep shutting me out, or you gon’ let me in? ”

The tires crunched over gravel as we turned past a carved wooden sign that read Serenity Forest in curly letters, then another that said Luxury Wilderness Retreat. Pines lined the road, tall and dark, until the trees broke open to reveal glass-front cabins tucked back in a clearing.

I leaned over and tapped his shoulder. “We’re here.”

He blinked like he was just noticing, then pushed his door open. The air hit him first—crisp pine and damp earth—and he raked a hand through his hair, eyes sweeping the cabins like he couldn’t decide if it was real or some trick. A low whistle slid out of him.

“This is the surprise?” he asked.

I hopped out and came around the hood, flashing him a grin. “You like it?”

He looked at me then— really looked—and his whole face shifted. Like he wanted to kiss me right there in front of God and everybody. “You did this?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “You’ve been down since your parents came. You kept bringing up that camping trip with Angel and them. This is the second part of your birthday. Everybody can celebrate together since me and Chef Vixen monopolized your actual birthday.”

His hand slid around my waist, tugging me in close. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and my heart sped up. “You really thought all this out?”

“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 a Smooth magazine cover.”

I squinted at him. “What you know about Smooth Magazine?”

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.