The Two Week Stand (Sizzling Beach 1)

“Is any of it relevant?”

“Ooh, I should look it up.” I pull my phone from the back pocket of my shorts and open Google. I tap in the search bar and type US and UK shoe sizes.

A bunch of websites come up. I click on the first one.

“Oh, hey, so this is weird. So, men’s shoe sizes have a difference of a half-size, and for women, it’s two sizes. So, you’re a fourteen, which is a thirteen and a half in the UK. I’m a five in the UK, and I’d be a seven in the US.”

“Huh. Yeah. That is weird. And boring as fuck.”

“Piss off.” I playfully nudge his arm with mine, and he chuckles.

“So, what’re your plans when you get home?” he asks me, taking another drink of beer. “Aside from Googling useless facts and boring people with them.”

Cry over never seeing you again. Hate my life a little bit. Get a job I don’t want, so I can pay the bills. Find an apartment to rent.

I give him a look. “Well, I’ll keep doing that, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know … look for a job, I guess.” I blow out a breath. “I just really wish I didn’t have to go back home. At least, not yet anyway. I’m nowhere near ready to have to breathe the same air as my mother and the prick.”

“So, don’t go home.”

I laugh. “Did you hit your head? It’s not like I have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice. You could extend your vacation.”

“This place is expensive. And I don’t think I’d be able to just stay. You have to prebook and shit. I mean, I could afford another week. I do have money in savings. But it’s the money my grandparents left me. I figured I’d use it to buy a house one day. I don’t want to waste it.”

Also, being here without you would be boring. I’d be sad as fuck that you weren’t here, and I’d probably just spend my time moping. But of course, I don’t say that.

“What about going somewhere else?” he says.

“Like where?”

“The US.”

My heart sputters to a stop. I turn my head, and he’s staring at me.

“Baltimore, to be more specific,” he adds.

My mouth starts to feel dry. I have trouble swallowing.

“You can speak anytime now, if you want.” He’s smiling, but his voice sounds different.

“I, um … um … you mean, go there … with … you?”

He glances down to the water before looking back at me. “I can’t offer you more than I already have. I don’t do relationships, and that won’t ever change. But I do know that I’m not quite ready to stop what we’ve been doing either. You could come to the States with me. Stay at my place for a while. And when you’re ready to go back home, you can.”

Go with him to America? Is he really saying this right now, or am I hallucinating? I did have seafood at dinner. Maybe it was a dodgy prawn that did it.

“You could even spend time writing. I know it’s what you really want to do with your life. Maybe the change of scenery would even inspire a best seller for you.”

He’s got a point. I could write a book while I’m there. I’d have all the time to write. And going there wouldn’t be a waste of money; it’d be like an investment in my career.

And then there’s him. I’d get more time with him.

Yes, I have feelings for him. A crush. And going with him would just prolong things. Meaning it would hurt more when I eventually left.

But either way, it’s going to hurt when I part from him.

So, why not go to America with him, enjoy myself, and then deal with the aftermath later?

Oh my God. Am I really going to do this?

I think I am.

“So, you’re suggesting I go with you to Baltimore, stay at your place, and we keep …” I point my finger between us.

“Fucking.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Double D. We’d keep fucking. Nothing would change, except our location. Which would happen to be my apartment. I’d go to training during the day. You could write. I’d come home, and we’d fuck.”

Well … hells bells. I didn’t want to go home, but I sure as heck wasn’t expecting this. For him to say this.

Maybe he likes me. I mean, I know he likes me. But maybe he likes me, likes me.

Stop.

And there I am, getting carried away with myself. See, this is why it wouldn’t be a good idea.

“So, hypothetically, if I did come to Baltimore and I stayed with you, then I’d expect to pay my way. Like rent or something.”

“Hypothetically, that would be a no.”

“Then, I won’t go.” I’m an independent woman who pays her way in life.

“So, you’re considering it?” He rests his chin on his shoulder, and his eyes are dancing.