Page 18

I’ve Seen You a Lot More Naked Than That!

I’ve been awake for hours.

Matty is passed out, flat on his stomach, one sock on, one off, snoring so loudly that even if I hadn’t had the most awkwardly painful encounter with Ricky, I wouldn’t be getting any sleep anyway.

As the golden sun rises, I make my way down the winding natural stone stairs carved into the rocky mountainside from the villa toward the sea to clear my mind.

All I’ve done is replay the scene with Ricky, where I went wrong, what I could have said or done, going as far back as the breakup or further, questioning the entirety of our relationship, what was real and what wasn’t.

I wish Matty was awake. He’s good at centering me when I’m spiraling. I can’t exactly go to Topher without him thinking I’m up to no good. Which . . .

I’m on my own.

Right now, it’s me, the sea, and you, dear reader.

At the end of the path is not a beach, but a stone patio built seamlessly into the natural rocks lined with a few deep blue loungers.

There’s a rope around the perimeter, and clear No Jumping signs due to rocks in the water below.

At the far end of the patio is a ladder that leads into the water.

There’s a rolled-up linen towel at the foot of the lounger closest to the sea, but it’s far too early for anybody to be awake yet.

The sea is calm this early, but there’s a salty mist in the air, and though the air is chilly, the sun has a prickly warmth that creates a beautiful dichotomy of sensations that lulls me into a false sense of security.

I close my eyes and see Ricky. But he’s not my Ricky; he’s a different version, one I don’t have access to, and I’m reaching out my hands, but I can’t grab hold, and suddenly it’s like I’m outside my own body looking down, and holy shit this is a feeling I haven’t felt since the breakup, and I was hardcore disassociating and fuck, fuck, fuck —

Bolting upright, I reach for my phone, but my hands are numb and I send it flying straight off the lounger and skidding across the patio toward the sea.

My heart stops.

In that moment, a head emerges from the ladder. With catlike reflexes, an arm reaches out and stops my skidding phone just before it slides off the stone and into the sea.

Too late for me, though, because I’m already tumbling to the ground, scrambling to chase after it.

“This is why I leave my phone in my room,” my phone savior says.

When I register it’s coming from Cam(!), I have to brace myself because my knees give out due to the sheer shock. Well, that and the confirmation that, yes, Cam does in fact have a total sleeper bod.

Cam continues his ascension from the sea, water dripping from his Olympic swimmer body complete with broad shoulders and slim waist, abs for days, and not a single ounce of fat.

If I didn’t hate him already, I would now.

Cam bounds up the ladder toward me, all leggy strides the way tall guys do, grinning like a nice guy who’s already won.

His scruff is unkempt, but it doesn’t hide a jawline that can cut glass.

Big wet curls sit on top of his head, which I didn’t notice yesterday because he was wearing a skater beanie.

He places my phone on the lounger next to me, then reaches out a hand to hoist me up.

I look at him hesitantly. “I don’t bite, promise.

” His palms are wet, and despite all the chiseled marble, his grip isn’t that strong and I nearly bring him down.

Once we’re both on our feet, I take a step back, unsure what to do next.

“Also, sorry, didn’t mean anything about the phone thing.

I have a vacation rule where I like to unplug, you know?

And Ricky isn’t much of a phone guy, but I don’t have to tell you that—” He winces.

“But it’s mostly because I have a history of losing things, and it’s easier to find things that get lost when you’re home than when you’re in a foreign country, you know?

” He chuckles, reaching behind his head to scratch his back, showcasing his armpit.

“I’m rambling. I do that when I’m nervous. ”

“You’re nervous?” I ask. “Why?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m nervous, more like caught off guard.”

“That’s fair. For what it’s worth, it’s nice to meet you. Officially. It was kind of awkward not really knowing what to say.”

“It was awkward, right?” I ask. “I didn’t know—”

“About me. I figured. Ricky told me you guys don’t talk.” Cam steps backward and turns around, bending over to grab his towel and his glasses. He presses them to the bridge of his nose. He dries his hair and drapes the towel around his shoulders as my anger builds.

Ricky told me you guys don’t talk.

Ricky talks about me with Cam?

What does Cam know about me? What secrets of mine has Ricky spilled?

What version of me does Cam think he’s meeting right now?

I want to shed my skin and get lost to the Tyrrhenian Sea.

Cam checks his Apple Watch. “It’s almost time to head into town. I’m gonna go check on Ricky. We should all hang later.”

Sure. Cue eye roll.

He holds out a hand for me, an official nice-to-meet-you gesture. I shake it because I don’t want to come off petty. With a smile, he releases my hand and heads back up toward the main villa, leaving me more confused and lightheaded than I was when I ambled down here.

I reach for my phone, abuzz with notifications, but Cam’s flip-flops echoing against the rocks inspire me to toss it aside, rip off my shirt, and jump into the sea, the burst of cold water the wake-up call I needed.

“Bon giorno, Vincenze. Come stai?” I wave to Vincenze in the villa’s grand foyer.

“Va bene, Signore Lemon! Wait here for the carts to take you into town. Signora Sienna said to find your name.” Vincenze points toward the glittery box of scrolls.

“Grazie!” I palm mine and Matty’s, since he’s in no condition to do anything but hug the cold walls of the villa, pressing his cheeks against the stone, and sip cold water from his water bottle.

After officially meeting Cam this morning, I ripped his ticket to the lemon grove to shreds and flushed it, leaving zero evidence.

Oops.

But you know what, reader? He’s too perfect, and I don’t like it.

Something feels off. My Spidey-sense is tingling.

I need to remove him from the equation. Get Ricky alone.

Again. But this time, I wouldn’t be going in blind.

I need to go in a bit more armed. Do some reconnaissance.

Find out some information on Cam, and then focus on repairing whatever broke between Ricky and me.

Maybe getting some time with Ricky and the lemon farm might spark more meaningful connection, help me learn why he hates me so much, and we might actually have a chance.

Footsteps alert me to people coming. “Matty, look alive.” As my spy on the inside, having spent more time with Cam than me last night at dinner, he’s got more of an in, plus Matty has always been good at digging up information with a suave, spy-level eye for detail.

Nobody suspects him due to his golden retriever himbo demure nature.

“Va funculo. My head.” He grabs me by the back of the shirt and tugs. “I’m not doing so hot after last night. How do I look?”

I swirl around and give him the once-over: Four-inch inseam jean shorts for the thighs, tight sleeveless tank with bright neon nineties design for the arms. White pleather fanny pack. Scuff-free white sneakers.

“You look cute, all things considered.”

He nods triumphantly. “Could be a hot dude at the tailor or the lemon thing.” Matty fidgets with his fanny pack. Then he nudges me. “Cam, twelve o’clock.”

Be cool. Unbothered. “Sup.”

Sup? What even is that?

Cam’s eyes widen, and he offers a cursory laugh. Avoiding his gaze, my eyes fall on his big ears, which stick out, so he wiggles them in a “hello.”

I laugh; then my cheeks heat in embarrassment because I don’t want to offend him. “Sorry, I—”

“I grew up with kids making fun of my ears. Called me Dumbo, if they were basic. I got Legolas once, that was creative. Once I realized I could wiggle them and make people laugh? It was over for the haters.” Cam’s voice sounds like his balls started dropping, then suddenly stopped, straddling the line between teenager and man.

Actually, he sounds like the voice of Alberto in Disney/Pixar’s Luca .

I kind of want to make him say, “Silenzio, Bruno!”

Matty’s staring at Cam, his charm working its magic on my eternally horny cousin. “He’s good,” Matty whispers.

Cam’s in skinny jean shorts ripped at the hem just above his knees, black Chuck Taylors, and a black Beyoncé Renaissance concert tee with glittery embellishments. He adjusts his black-rimmed glasses.

Ricky appears behind Cam and hugs his waist. I reflexively turn away.

“My boys!” Topher shouts. “Let’s go!”

Tyler and Trav pull up behind him and start shouting, “To-pher! To-pher!”

Benny and Ricky’s dad follow.

“Straight men are exhausting,” Benny says under his breath. “But love and light, I am bounty and beauty and am ready to receive everyone today!”

Trav grabs Benny in a headlock.

“Oh god, what’s happening? I’m getting hate-crimed!” Benny shrieks.

“Field, you ready? You’re the adult today,” Topher shouts. His fine leather sandals that look like he’s from ancient Egypt squeak against the marble floor.

“How’d that happen?” I ask, looking at Ricky’s dad, the actual adult in the room, who laughs.

“Technically, Sienna just doesn’t trust me,” Topher says. “Or Trav or Tyler.”

“Hey,” Tyler and Trav say at once.

“You’re proving her point,” Benny squawks from inside Trav’s headlock. Trav promptly lets him go, and Benny lets out an exhaustive breath. “That was deeply erotic and traumatizing.”