Page 58 of The Fake
Camila enters and slaps her empty cup on the counter, grabs the rum and Diet Coke, and fills it up. “It’s good to see Chloe so happy. I’ve been worried about her.”
I smile and nod, my go-to when I don’t know what the fuck to say. Chloe is happier than I’ve seen her, but I’m almost certain that’s due to Camila, not me.
“Guess I have you to thank for that.” Camila lifts her cup, and I clink mine against hers.
We cheers and drink before I say, “I didn’t do anything. She’s a tough chick.”
Camila lets out a long breath. “You didn’t see her two months ago.”
“That bad?” I equal parts want to know and don’t. The latter feels like an invasion of her privacy on some level.
“She couldn’t go anywhere. Team turned their backs on her, some of our friends. And don’t get me started on her parents. They’re completely clueless about who Chloe is and what she wants. They threw more money at the problem to convince Golden to take her back.”
“Chloe’s coming back to California?” I don’t like the tight feeling in my chest at the thought of her leaving Valley to come back to a place where she was made to feel unwanted. Or the idea of her leaving me.
“She didn’t tell you?” She nods at my blank stare. “I’m not surprised. She still worries everyone is going to blame her for things she has no control over.”
“But she’s not coming back, right?”
She shrugs. “I doubt it. We’ve filled her spot on the team, so she’d have to give up volleyball—the one thing that keeps her sane.” She smiles. “Well, one of the two things that keep her sane, now that she has you.”
* * *
The next morning, I’m up with the sun. Sleeping next to Chloe all night, or not sleeping as it was, has me agitated and nervous. There’s no winning when it comes to sleep. I can’t even entertain the possibility that I might have a nightmare in front of her. Talk about a fucking ten on the humiliating scale.
“Morning.” Chloe slips out onto the deck, looking rumpled and mussed and exactly what I wish my girl looked like in the morning. Except she’s not mine—at least not in any way that matters. “Coffee inside.”
“Don’t like coffee,” I say, my voice too deep and hoarse. I clear my throat and turn to rest a hip on the side railing. “What are you doing up so early?”
“I can never sleep in here. Even in high school, I’d wake up early every morning to run on the beach, listen to the waves, or surf. The ocean is my happy place.”
“Surfer Princess,” I say with a grin.
“I was planning on going for a run this morning if you want to come.”
20
Chloe
We drop onto the sand,both panting from the last sprint. Nathan pulled his t-shirt off somewhere around the one-mile mark and tucked it in his waistband. His chest lifts and rises with his breaths, sweat sliding down the cut muscles of his abs.
“Good God, woman. You can go forever.”
Five miles has never felt better. Running next to Nathan… yeah, that’d inspire anyone to push a little harder.
Sitting ten feet from the water, we both stare out into the ocean. The sun is still rising in the sky behind us.
“I love it out here,” I admit. “Reminds me how small and insignificant we all are by comparison.”
When I turn to him, he’s staring at me with stormy blue eyes.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “You just surprise me sometimes is all.”
I stand and brush the sand off my shorts. I’m sweaty and dirty and need a shower in the worst way. “Ready to head back?”
He doesn’t budge but holds his hand up like he wants me to help him up. I grab ahold of him, except when I pull, so does he and I fall to the ground—half on him and half sprawled in the sand.
