Page 62 of Guarded Love

Not to mention, she fucking hates me. That I can’t blame on her at all.

I stand up straight and stretch my arms over my head until my shoulders pop. I need to stop. Get my head on straight. I’ve been through harder things than this, but this feels like the most dangerous game I've ever played. Not that I want to play games with her...unless it has to do with videogames or fucking.

Dammit. Even the jokes in my head are betraying me now. And I can already feel Knox’s fist trying to connect with my body as a result of the thoughts I’m having about her.

I turn to face the ocean, letting the salty air fill my lungs. The sun's climbing higher, lighting up the sky with a beautiful golden glow. While I have no issue with noticing the island’s beauty, things would feel more peaceful if my mind wasn't such a battlefield. A war that I seem to be growing weaker in daily.

I never thought I would think this, but I need to get my shit together. For the team. For my own sanity. How will that happen, especially being in this close proximity with Willow? I have no idea.

After another quick stretch I start the run back to the hotel, hoping the endorphins will kick in and reset my brain. Or kick my ass enough that my brain will go quiet. I wish I had my gaming setup here because that would help a lot in terms of slowing down all the thoughts flying through my mind. But it looks like I’ll have to rely on running and cold showers in order to make it through this trip.

The run back feels like it takes longer than it should. It could be because I’ve already exerted energy running here and was pushing my body harder than normal. While I do run to keep in shape, it’s not exactly my forte. However, I know it’s not just physical exhaustion weighing me down.

It's her. Always her. And that’s something I’ll have to live with.

I pick up my pace again, determined to punish myself for my thoughts and finally slow to a walk as I reach the hotel grounds.I can’t help but put hands on my hips as I’m trying to catch my breath. My shirt has grown damp and is slightly clinging to my skin. Instead of walking back up through the lobby, I pause once more and watch as the sun moves higher in the sky.

I want Willow Sanchez. Not just physically—though that is part of it—but all of her. The sharp comments, the fierce intelligence, the way she refuses to back down from anything. I want the girl who looked at me with fire in her eyes when I pulled away years ago. The woman who sat next to me on the plane yesterday, pretending I didn't exist while every cell in my body was aware of her.

It's not new. This feeling has been building since the night we kissed and even in moments where we wouldn’t see each other for months. Pretending indifference hasn’t helped either. The only thing that has changed is that I’ve gotten better at lying to myself about it.

I drag my hand across my face, feeling the stubble I haven't bothered to shave yet. "Fuck," I whisper to no one.

Knox would never forgive me. Our friendship would shatter. The team dynamic would fracture. And Willow? She'd probably laugh in my face.

I start walking back toward the hotel entrance. The desk clerk is now replaced by a cheerful woman who smiles as I pass through the lobby. I manage a nod but that’s it because I don’t feel like having a conversation with anyone right now. I manage to not run into anyone on the journey back to my room and enter it as quietly as I left it.

Tyler's still passed out under his blankets, with one arm dangling off the edge of the mattress. I take that as my sign to take my shower and get a move on with my day before he wakes up. I grab some clean clothes and head to the bathroom. I do what I can to not make too much noise because at least someonein this room should get some sleep. I strip off my sweaty clothes and step under the spray. I instantly feel less tense.

The water hits my shoulders and I close my eyes, letting it wash away the physical evidence of my morning exertion. If only it could cleanse my thoughts as easily.

By the time I rinse off and step out, the mirror is completely fogged. I towel off quickly and dress in a simple navy t-shirt and khaki shorts. As I'm brushing my teeth, I hear movement outside the door. Tyler must be awake.

When I exit the bathroom, Tyler is sitting up in bed, scrolling through his phone.

"Morning," I say, running a hand through my still-damp hair.

"Dude," Tyler mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. "What time is it?"

I wonder why he’s asking me when he has his phone in hand. "Almost seven."

He groans and flops back against his pillows. "Why are you even up? We're on vacation."

"We’re not on vacation technically, and I couldn't sleep," I reply, sitting on the edge of my bed to put on my socks. "I went for a run.”

"A run? This early?" Tyler rubs his eyes, looking at me like I've grown a second head. "You're insane."

"Just habit." I finish with my socks and reach for my sneakers. "Besides, the beach was beautiful this early."

Tyler sits up again, this time fully alert. "What time do we have to be down at breakfast?”

“Eight," I tell him, checking my phone. "Professor Wallace is pretty punctual."

Tyler groans again, this time louder. "That's like...an hour from now."

"Which gives you plenty of time to shower and get ready," I point out as I finish lacing up my shoes.

"Or sleep for another thirty minutes," Tyler counters, already sliding back down under the covers.

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