The Two Week Stand (Sizzling Beach 1)

I’ve really fallen hard for the guy. I can’t remember ever feeling like this for anyone else.

I know. Stupid. But also inevitable. It’d be hard not to fall for him.

Sometimes, he looks at me, and I think he feels the same. Especially when he’s inside me. But it could just be wishful thinking on my part. And I’m too afraid to ask in case the answer I get isn’t the one I want to hear.

It’s kind of like, you know, in the movies when someone’s tied to a guillotine and their head is under the blade and the rope that’s holding it up, stopping it from falling, is slowly fraying. And the person who’s there to save you is caught up, fighting the bad guy, and you’re just lying there, praying the rope doesn’t reach the last strand and the blade doesn’t drop.

Well, I’m the person on the guillotine. The fraying rope holding the blade is my time here. And West … well, he’s either the villain or the hero of the story, depending on how things go.

I do know that I will at some point have to leave America. I’m not actually sure how long I can legally stay in the country without having to go home. I guess that’s something I need to find out.

The thought of leaving West makes me want to throw up, so I try not to think about it too much. Meaning I worry about it every single day.

But today is not that day because I’ve finished my book and it’s party time!

I push my chair back and go into the bedroom, where West is watching a game tape.

He’s lying there on the bed, shirtless, wearing just a pair of shorts. The remote is in his hand, resting on his chest.

Gorgeous. I have to hold back a sigh of appreciation.

“Hey,” I say.

He hits pause on the remote and looks at me. “Hey yourself.”

“So, I have news.” I’m almost bouncing on my toes with excitement to tell him. “I finished my book.”

He sits up. “You did? That’s amazing!”

He opens his arms up for a hug, which obviously, I’m all in for. I practically jump into his lap.

“You wrote that book quick. I mean, that is quick, right?”

I ease back a little, so I can look at him. “Yeah. Really quick. It just poured out of me. I mean, I knew the bones of the story.” I indicate my finger between him and me. “So, that helped immensely, and I had a lot of free time to write that I didn’t used to have before. So, yeah, it’s done. This is just the first draft, and it needs to be edited and stuff.” I pause and bite my lip. “But I was wondering if you wanted to read it. I know you said before that you’d want to read it, and I would totally love it if you did. But you don’t have to. No pressure at all.”

“Dillon.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to read it.”

I smile, and I know it’s goofy as fuck. I probably have hearts in my eyes right now. “I know you’re busy at the moment, so whenever is fine.”

“I want to read it now.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He smiles, and my insides melt like ice cream in the sun.

It’s official. I love this man.

Oh, of course you do, you fucking idiot. You’ve been in love with him for ages.

The fact that you can’t tell him how you feel and that you have zero bloody clue how he feels about you is the problem.

“Okay. Let me grab your laptop.” I climb off the bed. “You can read it straight from the laptop if you want. Unless you’d prefer me to print it out, which I can do.”

“Laptop is fine.”

“Cool. Well, I’ll just go get it.”

I practically skip out of the room and over to the dining table to get his laptop. I don’t skip back for the obvious reason—that knowing me, I’d probably fall and break his laptop.

He’s still sitting where I left him when I come back to the bedroom.

I hand over his laptop. “It’s right there on the screen. Actually, it’s at the end, so you’ll need to go to the beginning.” I lean around the laptop and scroll the document to the top. “There, it’s ready.”

Then, I just stand there, next to him.

“Are you gonna stay and watch me read or …”

“Christ! No! I’ll go make coffee or something. Then, I’ll watch some TV. You want any coffee?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Cool.” I start to back away toward the door. “So, I’ll just be out there, keeping busy.”

“Okay.”

“Want me to close the door?”

“Sure.”

I shut the bedroom door behind me and slap my hand to my forehead, wishing I weren’t such a moron. Then, I walk into the kitchen to make myself some coffee.

thirty

Dillon

I’m curled up on the sofa, just finishing my second cup of coffee, when I hear the bedroom door click open.