Page 67 of Off Plan

I hit Post, and immediately fell asleep with the phone in my hands.

Chapter Eleven

Fenn

Factually speaking,my room at the Five Star was the same size it ever was. Same industrial carpet, same sand-colored walls, same artwork I’d hung haphazardly over the years. At some point last night, though, during the hour or so when the thunder had been loud enough to shake the world, I’d lain on my bed in the dark and thought about Mason, who couldn’t sleep in the thunder, and the walls had seemed to close in on me.

Which, yeah, was fucking pathetic.

I’d finally drifted off to sleep, and when I’d blinked my gritty eyes open to the sound of my stupid alarm at 5:00 a.m., the room had been klieg-light bright again in the Florida sun, but I’d felt weirdly dissatisfied. The room had gotten bigger while I’d slept. Too big. Too sterile and impersonal. Too empty.

Which was arguablymorepathetic.

So, before I could trace those lonely thoughts back to their source, I’d jumped in the shower. For the first time in a while, I was actually eager to get to work, because in the grand scheme of bullshit ways to spend my time, running Rafe’s boat ranked somewhere above pining for the straight guy down the hall when I’d fuckingswornI would never do that again.

I was so pissed at myself, I wasn’t paying attention when I passed Mason’s door… which was how I came to find myself with two arms full of stammering, shower-damp, sexy-as-fuck man.

“Whoa!” I grabbed Mason by his upper arms to steady him before he hit his head on the doorjamb. He smelled like salt and woodsmoke and everything cozy. I wanted to cuddle him, so I pushed him away. And it tookeffort.

But we werefriends. So.

“Shit, sorry!” He took one look at my face and moved back another half step as he removed his earbuds. “Sorry, Fenn, I didn’t—”

“Have psychic powers to detect that I’d be walking by just now?” I said, forcing an unconcerned smile. “It’s fine. My fault, too.”

It was absolutely not fine. His wet hair curled on his forehead and waved around his ears. He was wearing a thin cotton T-shirt that highlighted his lean muscles and the dip of his collarbone, a body part that had never before and would never again be as sexy as it was in that frustrated moment.

Just friends. Whose fucked-up idea was this?

Oh. Right.

Mason chuckled and looked down at the sandy sneakers I’d noticed in his closet when I was playing super-stalker the day before. “Yeah, no. No psychic powers. I’ll leave that to Beale.” He smiled and it looked pained.

My own smile faltered. “Beale told you about that?” I didn’t know he talked much about his portents and shit outside the family.

“What? Oh. Yeah. He’s been driving me to work. Gave me a crystal to cleanse the air in my room.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Supposed to help me sleep.”

“Did it work?”

He shook his head and gave me a look that so clearly said,What the hell do you think, dumbass?that I could almost hear his voice in my head. “But it was sweet of him.”

There were a lot of directions my brain could have gone from there. Like, pondering how Mason hadn’t slept any better than I had. Like, forcing my feet to keep walking down the balcony to the stairs and then out to my car. Instead, it snagged on the wordsweetand hung there.

Bealethought Mason was sweet.Masonthought Beale was sweet.

Nobody thoughtIwas sweet, and all the sugar in the air was a little nauseating.

I set my jaw.

On paper, Beale would be a much better choice for Mason. He didn’t have the same baggage I did. He might be more than open to a little experimentation with the cute and friendly doctor for as long as he was stranded on Whispering Key.

Nauseous-er and nauseous-er.

“Yeah, well. Beale…” I hesitated. I hated lying. I especially hated people who lied for their own gain. Was I really going to lie aboutBealeof all people? Just because I was jealous?

No. I’d hate myself.

“I don’t know anything about auras,” Mason continued, a little smile playing on his lips, “but whatever color means adorable and honorable, that’s Beale’s color.” He beamed. “And he’s beensopatient with me this week, too, helping me get acclimated to the island. Poor guy can’t remember how to stretch his shoulder to save his life, but I don’t mind showing him—”