Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 149982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 750(@200wpm)___ 600(@250wpm)___ 500(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 750(@200wpm)___ 600(@250wpm)___ 500(@300wpm)
“I thought you probably just had what I had.” He flashes a smile. “Charm.”
I grin. “I do have that, Long Beach.”
He laughs. “Yeah, but it’s something else too. It’s more.” His gaze drifts and he rests his head against the wall next to mine. “How could I miss something this monumental about myself for so long? Twenty-seven-years, dude. It feels like fog is shifting and everything is so clear, and I just wish I had that clarity sooner.”
I would’ve asked him out.
No doubt, Highland would be my boyfriend by now, if he was comfortable with his sexuality way back then. That is, if he still liked me as much as he does in this second.
This moment.
The what if game hurts, and look at me, still playing that game.
Against the defenses around my heart, I turn to Jack and say, “I’m glad you’re finding clarity now. You can figure out your new path—a new life plan.”
The cabin creaks before he can respond, and a knock raps the door. Jane Cobalt asks if we’re okay. She’s been with Charlie in another med cabin.
“Yeah!” I call out. “We’re heading out in a sec!”
Jack is already scooting off the bed. He grabs his clothes in a heap and starts dressing. I follow suit, and when he buttons his jeans, he tells me, “I’m not planning out my future anymore. I’m just going to see where the ride takes me.” He makes a wave motion with his hand.
I laugh weakly. “How California of you.”
He smiles. “It is my favorite place on Earth.”
“The longer you’re with me, the more likely that’ll change to Philly.”
Jack tugs his shirt over his head with a brighter laugh.
It floods my chest, but I end up shying away so he doesn’t see my hint of unease. I realize that I just wanted brick-solid assurance that he’s here for me. I shouldn’t even ask for that when we haven’t defined what we are.
We like each other.
I’m helping him through the clouds.
That has to be enough right now.
19
OSCAR OLIVEIRA
Red velveteen boxed seats at an ornate operatic theatre, home to one of the most prestigious New York ballet companies—it’s fit for royalty, so no one should be surprised a Cobalt would be here.
Least of all me. The man guarding one.
I adjust my earpiece, the chair hard under my ass despite it looking soft. Only four seats occupy the box, and my client is sprawled out across the front two.
Charlie is sleeping, the program for Romeo & Juliet splayed over his eyes. He rarely looks tired. Rarely, if ever, yawns because he finds random and opportune times to catch sleep.
A good distance from my client, Jack and I are seated behind him. Giving Charlie and us space.
With the dimmed theatre lighting and the orchestra playing sweeping songs from one of the most classic, tragic love stories, I’m lured into the sensuality and romance of the ballet. Especially with Jack sitting next to me.
We wear well-tailored black tuxes. Like we’re the kings for the night.
Our eyes keep snagging, holding a beat too long, and I’ve edged closer to Highland. My arm wants to splay over his chair like we’re on a date.
Nothing has felt more like a first date than this moment with him. And I’m on-duty—how nuts is that?
My gaze melts over his neck. No more angry patches mar his skin from poison ivy. The Charity Fun Run is a couple days in the past.
And right now, Jack sucks on a lime sucker, the ball pushed against the inside of his mouth. It’s driving me mother-effing wild. I run my fingers across my jaw, and his glittering eyes smile more than his lips. While he watches the ballerinas, he whispers to me, “Would you attend the ballet if it weren’t for Charlie?”
I hadn’t given it too much thought. “Probably not.” My voice is hushed next to his ear. “I appreciate the ballet, but it’s not something that completely interests me.” I look him up and down. “What about you, Highland?”
“Probably yes.” He tilts his head to me. “I really love art.”
He is a filmmaker, and I start wondering if his family approves of his profession. “Are your parents pro-arts?”
He shifts the sucker with his tongue. “I’d say they’re more pro-business. They respect what I do, especially after I’ve succeeded, but they would’ve preferred I went into some sort of finance sector.”
Finance?
I don’t crunch numbers all day. I chose a career that outwardly showcases brawn more than intelligence, and not everyone can see how much common sense, strategy, and brains it takes to be a damn good bodyguard.
What if his parents envisioned him with a business-minded entrepreneur?
That’s not you, Oliveira.
My chest tightens. What do I care? It’s not like we’re a couple, and I might never meet his parents. But I do know Jack’s family means a lot to him, and naturally, I don’t just want to be on their good side or best side, but rather their favorite side.