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A summer vacation?
Beckett never takes vacations.
And having him here will mean Grayson and I might have to tone it down a little.
It’s been easy faking it for the media since we’re really not faking it at all. But when Beck comes out here…I can’t help but wonder if it’s the right time to tell him the truth.
Sure, he might be mad at first. But once he sees how good we are together, he’ll get it. He has to.
I sort of don’t want to bring it up with Grayson. Everything is going so well, and I’m worried it’s a wrench. But it’s a wrench we’ll have to deal with at some point, especially if we continue on the track we’re on.
I don’t let it dampen my good time tonight. Grayson and I can talk about it tomorrow. Instead, we’ve spent the night dancing, and he even took me to a dark corner booth where we made out a little. He reached under my dress and fingered me right there under the table with nobody around us any the wiser before we returned to the dance floor. Or maybe I’m drunk and delusional, but I’m at a point where I’m not sure I care.
I just want to be with him.
All the time.
Butterflies race through me every time our eyes meet, and I feel safe and protected when I’m in his arms.
It’s pure magic, and if my brother can’t see that, then maybe I don’t care.
Grayson will, though. He’s closer with my brother than I am, and the last thing he wants to do is upset him—or worse.
Grayson flashes his phone at me, and I see a text from my brother to him, too.
Beckett: I’m heading to Vegas with the family for summer vacation next month. Will you be able to show me the sights?
Interesting how he wants Grayson to show him the sights, and he just wants to see me.
It’s a clear signal that he still sees me as a little kid. He doesn’t see me as someone old enough or versed enough to show him the sights of Vegas.
And that’s fine. His best friend can show him.
But I’ll be there, too…probably telling Grayson where to take him since I’ve lived here seven years and Grayson’s barely lived here seven weeks.
“I got a similar text,” I yell in Grayson’s ear.
He drafts a text back and shows it to me.
Grayson: Of course. You’re all welcome to stay at my place. I have a pool, and we can kick back with beer like the good old days.
I widen my eyes at him. “You do realize this means that unless you’re ready to tell him the truth, I won’t be sleeping in your bed.”
He twists his lips as if he hadn’t really considered that.
Beckett: I’m more of a whiskey guy these days.
Grayson: Truth be told, I’m a gin guy.
Beckett: That sounds good, though. I’d rather have the girls at a house than a hotel anyway. We’ll be there June 13-17 on our way to Hawaii.
Grayson: Looking forward to seeing you.
“Do you want to tell him?” I ask before I lose my nerve. It’s definitely the vodka talking.
He shrugs, but he doesn’t answer, and then Patrick grabs him and pulls him up on stage with the deejay, and the moment is lost as he puts on his party hat and sets this crowd on fire.
That’s my man up there.
