"Yes, Wyatt. Let's just say he'd be unlikely to turn down overnight company from someone like you or me."
My eyes widen. "Are you serious?"
He just shrugs, then gestures toward the bedroom door. "Do you think anyone will notice if we use that lock?"
"They don't have any reason to," I answer, though I'm not sure it's an answer at all.
Without another word, I lock the door. Mateo makes up the futon so it looks slept in. Then we get ready to crawl into bed together. There are bitter things on my tongue—reminders of what happenedthe last time we fell asleep in each other's arms—but tomorrow he'll still be here, no further than the dock, even if he runs from me.
And I don't expect him to run from me.
"Do you still think about sneaking around—trying to get away with it all?" he asks. His lazy fingertips trace the length of my spine, my bare back turned to him.
"It wouldn't be that easy."
“The sex could be. Maybe not right here, under Taylor McKeon's very expensive roof, but you know we could break the rules and havesomethingwhile we wait for the rest. We've come so close. And how many times have we asked each other what we're doing?”
"A lot," I admit. "Too many, probably."
"I wonder whether we'll stop asking someday, and let ourselves have that much. While we're still waiting, I mean," Mateo says, his hand finally resting against my waist. "Once. What if we decide to lie even more loudly to everyone else just to have one night together?"
"Only once?"
"Only once."
"I don't think I could. The rules and lines are there for a reason."
"You hate the rules and lines."
I roll over and pull him closer, kissing him on the forehead and taking far too long to move away. He's always so warm. Without his hoodie on now, I shiver and want more.
Which is exactly my problem. I always want more.
"But it would break me, I think. Having all of that and not being able to tell the world."
"It doesn't break you already?"
We're tangled together, the way it usually happens when we get the chance to be close. Both of us are wearing shorts, but they leave so much skin within reach. We take advantage of the time we have to hold each other, but Mateo asked me a question, too. I try to findthe right way to answer him.
"Right now—having what we have and keeping our secret—it's like the day after a great game against a tough opponent. When I played hard and fought for the win, and loved every second on the ice. Then I woke up the next day and felt it everywhere, that perfect ache. It doesn't break me. It never did. It's more like a full-body bruise. Sure, it hurts if I lean on it the wrong way, or for too long. But otherwise, it's just a wonderful reminder of the night before. An ache that won't go away until I can do it all over again."
"But if we fuck?"
I shiver again, having nothing to do with being cold. He's always been nicer than I am when we talk about this—far less crude—and my dick reacts quickly to hearing the wordfuckfrom Mateo's well-educated mouth. And he knows it, too. I can almost feel his smile against my neck, at least until I keep talking.
"Fucking you will change everything for me. Everything I want and everything I need and everything I am," I say, my voice laced with pleas for so many different things. Patience. Understanding. A promise that the feelings turning me inside out are still mutual. "Fucking you and walking away like it didn't just alter our lives in one final, irrevocable way? That wouldn't feel like a bruise. That would be another shattered leg."
Mateo growls and noses at the underside of my unshaven jaw. "You're putting a hell of a lot of pressure on an orgasm, sweetheart."
"It's not about the orgasm."
"Yeah, I know," he sighs.
"So we wait?"
"So we wait."
As far as I know, nobody notices the locked door. After Mateo and I wake up to a greasy breakfast and plenty of coffee, all six of us go out on Taylor's boat to soak up sunlight that feels different from California's. Someone's playing music. Someone else brought a deck of cards. We enjoy a little of everything while doing almost nothing.