Page 125 of Better When Shared
He held up a small pharmacy's worth of sun protection products, his chest muscles shifting as he distributed items with military precision. I tried to focus on his words—something about SPF ratings and skin cancer statistics—but my brain kept short-circuiting every time he moved.
Fuck. This was going to be a problem.
Brian wandered toward the suite's entrance, mumbling something about checking the beach bag one more time, his broad shoulders disappearing around the corner. The moment he was out of sight, Gemma moved closer, her green eyes sharp with the kind of focused intensity that probably made hotel staff nervous.
"Are you into Brian?" she asked, her voice pitched low enough that it wouldn't carry.
"What?" My voice cracked like a fucking teenager’s. "That's... why would you even ask that?"
Gemma settled onto the edge of the massive bed, her posture elegant even in a casual swim coverup.
"Because you've been staring at him like he's a particularly complicated math problem you're dying to solve," she said, amusement coloring her voice. "And you just watched him pack a beach bag like it was performance art."
Shit. Had I been that obvious? I snuck a glance toward where Brian had disappeared, making sure he couldn't overhear this conversation. The last thing I needed was him knowing I'd been checking out his abs like some kind of pervert.
"I wasn't staring," I protested, but even I could hear how weak it sounded. "I was just... surprised. It’s been years since I’ve gone to the beach with him, and I didn’t expect him to be built like Captain America."
"Mm-hmm." Gemma's expression was skeptical, like she was seeing right through my bullshit. "So that's a no, then? You're not attracted to Brian?"
My hands were fidgeting with the towel now, twisting the fabric between my fingers. This was exactly the kind of conversation I'd spent years avoiding, the kind that led to uncomfortable truths and awkward silences. But there was something about Gemma's matter-of-fact tone that made deflection feel pointless.
"Brian?" I forced out a laugh that sounded fake even to my own ears. "Fuck no. I mean his name is Brian.”
Gemma tilted her head. “What’s wrong with the name Brian?”
I couldn’t explain that. She should have known. “Anyway, Brian as a person? Not my type. Brian's body... that’s a different story."
The admission hung in the air between us, and I immediately wanted to take it back. But Gemma just nodded like I'd confirmed something she'd already suspected.
"I think you like Brian as a person more than you’d like to admit.” She fiddled with the fabric on her swim coverup. “So. You’re bisexual.”
I'd known I was bisexual for years, had even used it in my own head, but hearing someone else say it out loud made it feel more real somehow. Because I’d never admitted it to anyone.
"Yeah," I said quietly, still not looking at her. "But I don't... I mean, I've never really done anything with men. Not really."
"Why not?”
Usually, I would have joked here, maybe told her I was too hot for guys to handle, but somehow, the truth slipped out. "There was this guy in high school. Marcus. I had this massive crush on him, thought maybe he was into me too. So I... um. It ended badly. Bullying.”
"That's awful," Gemma said, and there was genuine anger in her voice. “Of course, you'd never have to worry about that with Brian," Gemma said gently. "He's so... Brian-like. I don't think he has a bullying bone in his body."
I let out a shaky laugh. She was right. Brian was the kind of guy who helped old ladies cross the street and always said please and thank you to waiters. The kind of guy who'd never deliberately hurt someone.
"Yeah," I agreed, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. "Brian's definitely not—"
I froze mid-sentence as Brian reappeared from around the corner, reaching for a shirt he'd left draped over a chair. The movement made every muscle in his back and shoulders flex, a gorgeous display of strength and definition that made my mouth go dry. He tugged the rash guard over his head, his abs contracting as he pulled the fabric down, and I felt my brain short-circuit all over again.
Beside me, Gemma had gone silent, and when I glanced at her, I realized she was staring too. Her lips were slightly parted, her professional composure cracking enough to reveal the woman underneath the executive facade.
We sat there like a couple of idiots, both of us transfixed by the sight of Brian Casey getting dressed. Brian didn’t notice, more focused on his checklist as he smoothed down his shirt and checked his watch.
"What?" Brian asked, noticing our silence. His blue eyes flicked between us with mild confusion. "Did I forget something?"
Gemma and I exchanged a look—a moment of perfect understanding that made my stomach flutter. Her expressionwas knowing, almost conspiratorial, and it made me realize there was more to Jake’s ice queen than met the eye.
"Nothing," Gemma said smoothly, standing and brushing imaginary lint from her coverup. "Just making sure we have everything for the beach."
Chapter 5
