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“Then we learn and fuck it up together,” I reassure her. “One thing I’ve learned from helping raise my own siblingsis that kids are resilient and they forgive. Without question, they forgive. Even when we don’t deserve their forgiveness.”
Tenley nods and stays quiet for a moment. I’ll let her lean on me as long as she needs. “I’m glad it’s with you, August.”
She doesn’t explain any further. She doesn’t need to because I know. I understand perfectly.
And I couldn’t be any more in sync with her on that.
28
TENLEY
28 WEEKS
I have a big fat crush on my baby daddy, and I’m too chicken shit to admit it.
Too scared to be burned in the end.
Too scared to mess up an already good thing.
Although, I’m pretty sure screwing around together has already put us in the ‘potential for disaster’ category, just like Navy predicted.
A risk that, at the time, I was willing to take.
That may have been my needy vag talking, though.
But right now…it feels a lot like my heart. My traitorous, no good, clearly-hates-me, August Graves-loving heart.
I’m not sure what I was thinking when I booked this photoshoot in New York for him and Briggs.
You were thinking about your job, Tenley. And his job. Not how downright edible August would look in formfitting Calvin Klein boxers or how the woman wrapped around himlike a fucking monkey in a tree would look intertwined with him.
Although this is only a day trip, I’m already counting down the hours until the flight home. I hate myself for planning ahead, almost as much as I hate how much seeing him like this bothers me.
I’m the worst professional ever.
Layla, the other Calvin model, is stunning. I mean, if I had her flawless complexion and perky butt, I’d be that confident, too. You go, girl. But also, please don’t go near my man ever again.
My man?What the hell is wrong with me?
In my defense, I had no idea the shoot would include a female for them to model with. Shame on me because I basically laid a supermodel on August’s lap and told him to enjoy. Hell, if I swung the other way, I’d enjoy her too. She’s a knockout.
See a cookie, eat the cookie. I clearly wasn’t thinking.
Now, I get to watch it for myself. Two perfect humans being photographed together, soon to be the focal point of the newCalvin in the Summerad.
“August, I need you to wrap your left arm around Layla’s lower back. Let the other hand hang loose. And Layla, place both hands on August’s chest. Look into each other’s eyes and stay like that just for me,” Kodi directs them, and no joke, I want to yank the gold hoops from her ears.
August is in nothing but a pair of white Calvin Klein boxers. His manhood I’ve grown thirsty for is proudly packaged and hard to miss. The beauty crew covered him in baby oil to give him a wet effect, making his randomized tattoos and shapely muscles even more appetizing.
And then there’s Layla. She’s gotta be close to six feettall. Legs for days with a body to be proud of. I bet she doesn’t shovel a full bag of gummy bears back in one sitting.
Nope. That would be me. Like a fucking boss.
Also me with the Tums on standby for the acid reflux to come after.
Despite Layla being tangled around him, I catch August looking at me for approval. His quick glances seek me out amidst the crowded room. Amidst the box lights, banners, and makeup stations, his eyes follow my path. I can feel them. Like he’s trying to judge if this is okay, despite me being the one who organized it. However, I have yet to meet his stare, looking away quickly enough for him not to notice my attention already concentrated on him.
Even if from a distance.
