Page 32 of Tourist Trap

“You’re already up, let’s go.” Then he leaves the room.

I watch him go, wondering if I should just go back to bed because it is fuckingearly, but my curiosity wins out as I stand, then follow him out into the hall.

“Miles?” I call out in a whisper as if there is someone else in the house soundly sleeping.

“Down here,” he says from downstairs.

The sound of ceramic and metal hits my ears before I hear the sliding glass door opening. Once more, my curiosity prevails, and I move down the stairs. I probably should have put something more substantial on, since I’m wearing a tank without a bra and a pair of sleep shorts, but it’s too late for that.

After making my way down the stairs, I see him, arms seemingly filled with items I can’t quite make out, moving through the sliding glass door and out onto the deck, making a left toward the side that faces away from the ocean. Confusion continues to fill me, but I smell coffee and bacon and decide that I’ll go wherever both of those are.

Stepping out onto the deck, I pause in utter bafflement for a beat as Miles bends to place a bowl onto the small table before he stands and looks at me, his shoulders straightening. He gives me a small, shy smile before he lifts a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. A sweet blush creeps up his skin, and suddenly, I feel inexplicably nervous.

Suddenly,I’mself-conscious and worried about my morning breath and my bedhead and the fact that there’s a bit of a chill in the morning air, and I have two point five seconds before my nipples get hard. I cross my arms on my chest before that becomes a new thing to worry about as I take in the scene before me.

A couple of blankets are on the two chairs facing the boardwalk, and on the table before them are coffee, bacon, and three of the boxes of cereal he left out for me yesterday as well as my water bottle.

When I saw the cereal on the counter after work last night, warmth filled me. From his text, I knew he felt bad about hurting me that morning, but going the extra mile to get me more cereal and add it to the list that I made him tells me he genuinely regretted it.

“What is this?” I ask, looking around to try and figure out what’s going on.

He bends again, picking up that familiar yellow piece of paper.

“Yesterday, I added ‘have a fun breakfast with Claire.’” His hand reaches for a box of Lucky Charms and lifts it, shaking it. “And watching a sunrise is on the list, too.”

My heart starts beating fast as I put the pieces together.

“Two birds, one stone,” he says, a shy smile on his lips.

“You made me breakfast?”

“I mostly just made bacon, and I hate to say it, but it was a selfish act. I like bacon, and I think my body might stop working if I only eat sugar for breakfast.”

“Everyone likes bacon,” I say absentmindedly, barely paying attention as I take a step closer. “You set all this up?”

He shrugs nonchalantly.

“My grandmother used to do this a few times during the summer and made a big thing out of it. Wake up early, and eat a huge breakfast in our pajamas while watching the sunrise. It’s one of the highlights of my summers as a kid.”

“And now you’re doing it with me?” I ask.

He smiles again, and that blush I like so much blooms across his cheeks. “I saw the weather was pretty clear today and thought it might be a good idea to…” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. Maybe it was stupid. If you want to go back to bed?—”

“No,” I say quickly. “No, this is…this is amazing. It’s perfect.” I look around. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He gestures for me to take a seat.

“I, uh…” he starts awkwardly, a hand moving to the back of his neck again, as I’ve noticed he does when he’s uncomfortable. “I owe you an apology.”

I sit back and cross my arms on my chest, tipping my head to the side and smiling a bit. “Go on…”

A blush depends on his cheeks.

“I was a dick to you yesterday. I was having a bad morning, and that had nothing to do with you, but I took it out on you all the same. That’s not okay, and you deserve more kindness and respect than I gave you.”

I roll my lips into my mouth as my eyes start to water.Stupid fucking emotions.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, leaning forward and grabbing my hand in his. It’s warm, and he holds my hand tightly in a way that distracts me just enough to get a handle on myself again. “Don’t cry. Or do. I don’t want to tell you what to do. Fuck, I’m screwing this up.”

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