Page 98 of Worth Every Moment

Maybe I should have told him I was a virgin before things got hot and heavy, but in all honesty, it felt like some dirty, shameful secret. Something that Seb Hawkston could never have understood, and by the way he walked out of here, I suspect I was right.

I held it in until the last second. My body was humming for him, desperate for him to take me whatever way he wanted. If I’d waited a second longer, he’d have released his dick from those trunks and it would have been so much harder to stop him.

It’s not as though we’d need more lube.

In some alternate reality, we’re probably going at it without reserve.

In another, we’re probably not talking to one another at all. Maybe never even knew each other.Never met.A dullpain gnaws at my lungs, a sense of horror seeping into my bloodstream. I don’t want to live in a world where I don’t know Seb; where I can’t touch him, talk to him, hear his laugh or see his smile.

I can’t sit here and wait any longer. I open the door, the heat of the evening air hitting me like a blast of redemption. My sandals flip on the sand, the grains rough where they slip between the soles and my bare feet. I don’t know which way Seb went, but I’m pretty sure I’ll find him.

I pace along the sand, the rhythmical roar of the waves on the beach doing its job to calm my racing heart. I see him, down by the water in the moonlight, staring out at the waves. Alone.

I don’t know what’s going through his head, but I know that whatever it is, we’re going to have to talk about it at some point. It might as well be now.

He doesn’t turn, but when I’m close enough, his deep voice says, “Lefroy.”

My insides compress at the sound of my name on his lips, but I offer a cool, “Hey,” in response.

He taps the sand next to him. “Take a seat.”

I sit awkwardly by his side, watching the waves. He takes a breath and blows it out slowly. “Sex, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say quietly.

The rhythmic wash of the waves fills the silence

“All these years, and I never knew this about you.”

Deep sadness rolls through his words, bringing with it a sense of betrayal that I know will linger longer than I want it to. “I don’t tell people.”

His gaze doesn’t shift from the water. “I guess I hoped I wasn’t just ‘people’ to you.” He lowers his head, running his hand over the back of it and down his neck. “You think we really know each other at all?”

“Bits of each other. Not the whole story. I don’t think you can know someone’s whole story. Most of the time, they don’t even know it themselves.”

“Do you know yours?”

“Maybe,” I admit. “Do you?”

He emits a hollow laugh. “If I do, I wish I didn’t.”

We sit quietly after that, me not wanting to push him. I keep expecting him to make a joke of all of this. To ridicule himself or his reaction, and the fact that he doesn’t makes me think this means more to him than I could ever have anticipated. It holds a weight that’s keeping him beneath the surface, and I wish I could lessen the burden, but I don’t know how. I don’t even know what the burden is.

Seb draws an infinity symbol in the sand with his fingertip, over and over. The logo for my brand.Is he conscious he’s doing it? Then again, maybe it’s just the number eight.

“How?” he says after he’s traced the shape at least ten times.

“How what?”

“How have you never slept with anyone?”

“Do you mean why? Because ‘how’ makes it sound like I’ve managed to avoid some inevitable accident. Like tripping as you get off the bus.”

His exhalation sounds almost like a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a bus.”

“Figures. Tripping as you step off the private jet then.”

He smiles to himself as he wipes away the infinity symbol with one hand. “Sorry. I didn’t handle that very well. I was… surprised.”