“Or what?” I said, grabbing an old bar of soap from the wire shower caddy.

I heard the toilet flush and then glacial water spewed from the showerhead. Letting out a loud scream, I tossed the bar of soap over the edge, hoping I’d hit Gray.

“Or that,” he said on a laugh.

A few seconds later, the shower door opened and a naked Gray squeezed inside, holding the bar of soap. I wanted to be mad, I really did, but once his chest smashed against me, I was instantly warm. Before I said something snarky, he leaned down and kissed me. Soft and perfect.

“Let me wash those spiders outta your hair.” He lathered the soap in his hands and raked them through my hair. “I love your wild hair.” Lowering his hand, he stopped between my legs. “All of it.”

I swatted him on the arm, and he laughed. Then he began running his fingers between my legs.

Mumbling something incoherent, I leaned against the back of the stall.

Gray grinned and slipped a finger inside me, working me at an angle. “Are you still mad at me?” He slid his other hand down my hip.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I’m pissed.”

Lowering to his knees, Gray spread my legs open, and soon his head was buried between my thighs. I let out a long groan and grabbed the back of his head as he worked his mouth along with those magic QB fingers. My knees were beginning to weaken, which Gray must have noticed, because he pulled a hand to my hip, holding me steady.

“You still mad?” he said, pulling back his head to look up at me.

“Getting closer to forgiving you,” I said, pushing his head back to me.

He laughed and lifted a leg over his shoulder, sinking back between my thighs. It didn’t take long. Soon, I was yelling my forgiveness through the rooftop.

“A little to the left,” Gray said, jerking his head to the right.

A crisp pop from our beach fire delivered a sprinkling of sparks into the night sky.

“You mean my right?” I moved a few inches to my right, digging my toes deeper in the damp sand.

“No. I mean my right. Your left.”

I moved a few inches back, settling just behind the fire. The licking flames pulled heat across my face, and I moved my fingertips along my skin, cooling it down.

“Keep your hands down.” He shifted his sketchpad higher on his lap and dug through his box of pastels. “If you keep touching your face, it’s going to change the outcome.”

“I thought you were drawing my soul,” I teased, flashing him a flirtatious smile from across the fire.

“There’s not enough black pastel under the sun to capture your soul, Sinister.” Gray chuckled under his breath. He peeked up just long enough to catch my smile falter. “That was a joke.”

“I know.” I rolled my neck, letting the insult fall from my shoulders.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been accused of lacking anything precious and holy in my body, especially from Gray. He was right back at the diner. I was guarded. Walls are protection. Walls ensure your heart doesn’t get broken. I’d lived most of my life surrounded by walls, and the first time I let them fall was with Gray. I knew he was joking, but his words stung.

He kept a careful watch on me as he made long strokes across his paper. “If I did draw your soul, Sydney, it would be too much for this little piece of paper. I would never use black. Your spirit is radiant. It’s full of life. Stop being so hard on yourself.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled my knees tighter against my chest.

“You don’t believe me?” Gray said, setting down his notebook. He crawled around the fire pit, leaving a deep trench in the sand. “Sydney, you’re magnificent.”

He stopped behind my back and wrapped his arms around my waist. When he moved his legs just outside of mine, I leaned back into his chest.

“I’m rude, Gray. No one thinks I’m magnificent. They think I’m mean. I’m scary. That I don’t give a shit about people’s feelings. They’re right, you know.”

“That’s bullshit, Porter.” Gray squeezed me tightly and kissed the top of my head. “People just don’t know you. They don’t know you’d go to the ends of the earth to protect your brother. How much you care for your space case roommate.” He laughed next to my ear, and I smiled. “How truly alive you are when you’re up on that stage, creating beautiful music.”

I closed my eyes, letting his words sink through me. “Beautiful music?”

Gray said my music was beautiful.

“Yes, beautiful music,” he whispered low and into my ear. “Your music connects people. I’ve witnessed it firsthand… But if you tell Chance and Fernando I said that you’ll pay. They’ll think I’ve gone soft and they’ll tell the other guys. Then I’ll be assaulted in the shower with rave kid glow sticks and baby pacifiers.”

I chuckled and pulled an elbow into his hard chest. “Your secret’s safe with me, QB. Wouldn’t dream of blowing your cover. It’s good to know at least someone likes my music.”

“A lot of people like it. Shut up, Sinister.”

“I meant people I care about.”

Mom, for one. She’d never been proud of anything I’d done.

“Oh shit.” He craned his neck to look at me. “You care about me?” he teased. “You love me, Sydney? My boyish good looks and natural charm have made you see the light? I knew I was wearing you down. You did make me work for it, though.”

I stiffened a bit, surprised he’d popped love into his sentence, but it was a good surprise.

Did I love the way he smiled and his lame jokes? Did I love his little mysteries? His gentle and bone-melting bedroom tactics? His love for art and his playfulness with his students?

He’d saved Jack and Allison. He’d saved my awful birthday and gave me perhaps the best night of my life. So did I love Gray Peters?

“Yes,” I answered, drawing in a deep breath. “Yes, I care about you… a lot.”

“That’s good,” he whispered, pulling my chin to meet his. “Because I’d hate to be in this alone.” Delivering a chaste kiss to my lips, he pulled up my arm. “Let’s get back to the cabin.” He began to kick sand over the fire. “I’m tired. How ‘bout you?” He gave me a smile and grabbed his art supplies.

“Yeah, that shower really took it out of me,” I said, swallowing a yawn. “I could sleep for days.”

Gray frowned playfully and grabbed my hand. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

I led Sydney through the small cabin. The furniture hadn’t changed since the sixties, when my grandparents bought it. I loved that. Everything, even the worn-out tartan couch, smelled like family. I had some of my best memories in this place, and I was glad to share it with Sydney.

At the end of the creaky, wooden hallway, I opened a bedroom door.

Sydney’s eyes lit up and she squealed. “Bunk beds!” Dropping my hand, she ran for the pine ladder leading to the top bunk. When she pulled back the covers, she gasped. “Star Wars sheets!”

I lay across the bottom bunk. “You sleeping solo tonight, Sydney?” I asked, pulling back my covers to reveal my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sheets. “That’s my brother Elliott’s bed. Watch out for crusty tube socks.”

“I’m sleeping with Hans Solo tonight,” she joked, and from the bottom bunk, I kicked the pine slats holding her mattress in place. I guess I set her up for that joke.

Turning on my side, I listened to her shifting around above me. Eventually, her hand dangled over the side of the mattress, and she wiggled her fingers toward my face. “Take my hand.”

Reaching up, I grabbed her fingers, gently stroking the tips.

“I’m not convinced people should sleep together in one bed,” she said.

Sydney dropped down her other hand, and I moved to the edge of my bunk, grabbing both. I admired how playful she was. A little kid in a woman’s body. This was what I loved most about Sydney. She was full of life. Everyone should be that free.