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26 | That Guy EDITOR IN CHIEF

I strip off my clothes, toss them on the chair ’cause tonight I can’t be bothered and collapse into bed, willing myself not to think about Sasha doing the same on the other side of the thin wall. I will not think about her pulling that flowery dress up over her head. Past freckled shoulders and the pink bra that snuck out from underneath the straps.

I will not think about her hair, messy from the sea air. The arch of her neck, when she threw her head back to laugh at dinner.

How much I wanted to punch Martin when he wouldn’t let her go.

I throw a forearm over my eyes and groan.

I will not think about what would have happened if Stephanie hadn’t come along.

The shadowy lantern light. The beach. Sasha smelling like honeysuckle. Her eyes reflecting my own urgency back to me. Her lips parted as she leaned in. The push and pull of her lips against mine for that brief moment, sending shock waves through me.

I’m only fucking human.

So, I didn’t stop it. But I let her take the lead. That’s something, right?

I think about the way we have a kind of silent communication, like I never had with my ex. With Sasha, it feels like I’ve known her forever, even though it’s basically only been weeks.

But it seems like maybe Derek was right, though I don’t plan to tell him. Whatever she’s feeling, she doesn’t want to give in. And I’ve got to respect that. I will respect that.

Even if it’s torture.

The last thing I want to do is stand between her and this opportunity. The last thing I want to do is be that guy .

TO-DO

Make sure Sasha knows I didn’t orchestrate the room assignments.

Focus on the shoot. Work. Remember that?

Speaking of: email corporate an update.

Stop wondering what her shiny pink lips would have tasted like, given more time.

Stop thinking about that second when I almost knew.

Go the hell to sleep.