I run my hands over my thighs. Trying to erase his touch or preserve it, I’m not sure which. “We’re attracted to each other, but that’s all it is. It’s not like we’d ever have something for real.”
Not if he knew what state my life is in, anyway. I’m not too proud to admit that I’ve googled his past girlfriends. They’re all beautiful, with accomplishments pages long. One woman worked for NASA, for god’s sake. Maybe I’d be a fun distraction for him, a way to work out his stress while he’s away, but then what?
More distressingly, I feel myself softening toward him, and it’s only been a day. If I tangle those emotions with a hookup, it could get messy.
I don’t need more messes in my life.
“Right,” Theo says, interrupting my spiral.
His face is wiped clean of emotion. He grabs a Neosporin packet and Q-tip, applies a generous amount of goop onto it, then spreads it over my cut. My throat goes tight at the gentle touch.
“I don’t want to upset Paul,” I say, watching his careful work. The burn is gone, just an ache now. “I—I care about his friendship, and I don’t want to risk his place in my life if things blow up between us.”
His gaze meets mine briefly. “I get it, Shepard. The risk isn’t worth the reward. My granddad already cares about you, and he’s invested in all of this. I’m not going to mess that up for either of you.”
Theo prepares several bandages, then presses them onto my knee. His movements are efficient now, not hungry, not lingering or rough, and I mourn the loss of it even though it’s necessary.
When he’s done, he helps me down, stepping away before our bodies can connect.
I lean against the counter. “Can we extend the truce to ‘can look but don’t touch’？”
His eyebrows raise. “You want to look, huh?”
“Nothing wrong with a little window shopping,” I say. “Now that we’ve admitted we’re attracted to each other, I mean.”
Theo huffs out a tight breath. “Fine. I’m going to go check on my granddad, so I’ll give you the opportunity to stare at my ass again.”
“Again?”
“I felt you looking when I walked in.”
I make sure he sees my 360-degree eye roll, but I do stare at his ass as he walks to the door. He catches me when he looks over his shoulder. The last thing I see before the door closes behind him is his smirk.
What he doesn’t know is that I’m going to look and touch. But the only touching I’m going to do is with myself.
That’s a promise.
Fourteen
Theo keeps his distance while we explore the park the next day. It’s for the best, considering our truce’s amendment, but I find myself missing his irritating smirks, how close he gets to murmur dry asides. He walks just ahead of us on our hikes, but occasionally he’ll angle his head to listen to my conversations with Paul.
So, on Monday, when I make my way down to the lobby for checkout, I’m shocked to find him watching my approach. The adrenaline of having his attention again snakes through my veins as his mouth pulls up.
He meets me halfway, taking my suitcase. “Saw your latest masterpiece last night.”
The brush of his fingers against mine sets off tiny earthquakes, and my response is sluggish. “My latest—？ Oh.”
Last night I made Thomas sit with me via FaceTime while I crafted my next TikTok. It was only fair to hold him hostage while I muttered to myself, since it was his idea in the first place, but he abandoned me twenty minutes in. Thankfully Sadie kept me company, pumping me for trip details.
Making this video was such a different process from the one I made searching for Paul. Then, I assumed no one would see it. But I knew people would look at this. I spent over an hour erasing and reshooting and editing to make sure everything looked just right. I crawled around Gram and Paul’s map spread on the floor to capture the stops, my knee still stinging but less intensely.
Eventually, I had a sixty-second video that gave the update people had been asking for. Now they knew I’d met Paul. They knew there were letters—I showed the first one I’d read—and additional pictures. They knew there was a map planning out the honeymoon that never was.
They knew I was taking the trip in her place.
I didn’t mention Paul and Theo’s part in it, but that didn’t matter. People loved it, and my relief and hope were instant. The notifications started coming in as I was settling into bed. I turned off my phone so I wouldn’t stay up all night tracking the numbers.
Which is why I’m rolling into the lobby twenty minutes late.
Theo doesn’t look annoyed, either by my tardiness or the TikTok. He looks amused. “I was wondering when you’d get around to making it.”
His teasing puts me on edge. He’s been so robot-like since our almost kiss that my response comes out defensive. “I had to think about it for a while. I wanted it to be—”
I don’t say the word; it’s not how I’d ever describe it. But Theo says it anyway. “Perfect.”
“Just— I wanted it to be right. I wanted to do the story justice.”
“The story that happened sixty years ago or the one that’s happening now?”
It’s such an astute observation that it throws me off balance. Now that he’s said it, I recognize the feeling: living inside an important memory as it’s happening, and being viscerally aware of it. “Both, I guess.”
Theo hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “Well, you’ve got that guy’s seal of approval. He’s been reading comments all morning. Hope you’re prepared to talk about it all the way to Death Valley.”
I catch sight of Paul sitting in a plush leather chair, one leg crossed over the other. He has Theo’s phone in his hands, reading glasses on, grinning down at the screen like it’s Christmas morning.
It’s a look so full of joy—and pride—that it makes my heart ache. It reminds me of Gram when she’d see my work.
I catch Theo watching me. His expression is a manifestation of the way my chest feels.
“What?”
His mouth parts, then presses together. Then the look is gone, replaced by the sly expression I’ve—shit—missed. “You said I could look.”
I choke out a laugh. “There’s a lot of nuance between looking and staring, Spencer.”
“Sometimes I like to take my time.”
I can’t touch that, not even with a ten-foot pole. “Paul really likes the TikTok?”
“He’s been calling it a Tic Tac, but yeah, he’s into it.”
The miraculous thing is, I am, too.
“I have ideas for more,” I admit as we make our way over to Paul. My mind was racing last night. I stared at the ceiling for nearly an hour dreaming up the stories I could tell next. “I want to do a couple videos for our Yosemite leg.”
“Then keep going,” Theo says bossily. “And stop thinking so hard.”
Paul grins up at me when we get to him, handing Theo his phone. “Good morning! I saw your Tic Tac. It was just lovely. So many nice comments, too, though I didn’t understand half of them.”
“Social media vernacular is confusing,” I agree, offering my hand to help him up.