Myles drove a McLaren. The flat road made the drive smooth, and the view outside was nice. This was my first time around the town since I'd arrived. And there I was thinking the beach was amusing. You should have seen the buildings and felt the climate here.

"If you travel often, how do you maintain your house?" I asked, since the quiet was getting awkward and I wanted to hear him speak. He had this husky, smoky voice that he kept soft and calm.

"I always lock it and leave." He smiled, but he didn't look over at me. I wanted him to notice me so badly that I rearranged my sitting position, leaning against the door to face him completely. Don't get me wrong, I liked the view outside, but I was in love with the view inside this small space.

"Where do you train?" I asked again.

He glanced at me this time, a tender smile tugging at his lips, which gave emphasis to a couple of dimples above them. "Today was cardio and training, which I missed. So we're going to the gym."

"Your team has a gym?"

"I think it's necessary." His eyes thinned.

"But it shouldn't be necessary if you have a gym at home. Brayden does."

He chuckled warmly and glanced over again. "As a team, we need to stick together."

"That makes sense. It's called a team for that specific reason, I guess." I snorted at my own logic, and his mouth twitched with amusement, eyes on the road. He was steering with one hand. It was a turn-on.

He drove so effortlessly, leaning his body comfortably, his other leg resting on the seat. His free hand often rubbed the back of his muscular neck, and every time he angled his head, my eyes got stuck on his sharp jaw. Jealousy shot through me at the realization that I would never know how strong that jaw would feel under my touch.

"You and Autumn," I blurted, surprising myself.

He tilted his head briefly, a dazed expression and furrowed brows, then concentrated back on the road. "What about us?"

Don't humiliate yourself, a voice warned me in the back of my head. So I thought of the easiest way to navigate the subject. When it rushed into my head, I asked, "When did you two meet?"

"Probably two weeks back. Or one." He answered casually, still focused on the road.

I didn't have to turn and look at him for him to know how surprised I was. In this circumstance, I was already finding it hard to stop gawking, and I knew he was aware of the inappropriateness of my attitude, but somehow it didn't affect him. Probably because he was used to awkward fan girls like me. However, my mouth dropped instantly as he admitted to being serious with a neutral face. Like what he said was normal.

"You're kidding, right?"

He laughed when I gasped. It was too charming; it became music to my ears.

"It was three weeks, I guess." He assured me, nodding to himself as though he deserved a trophy for remembering when he met his fiancée.

He had to be kidding, though. He probably wanted a reaction out of me.

"Stop messing with me," I whined.

He glanced over, deadpan for a nanosecond. "No, I'm serious."

And I froze.

"You can't marry someone you met for that short a period."

"And why is that?" he questioned as the car stopped.

Had we arrived at our destination? I peered through the windshield. We were in traffic.

Perfect.

When I averted my eyes back to him, he was watching me, his fingers scratching his chin. The urge to do it for him was tormenting. I scratched my thigh instead.

"Why shouldn't I marry Autumn?" He raised the question again, and I thought my breathing stopped.

I wondered if it was me, or if time had actually stopped when our eyes met.

His perfectly conscious eyes were unblinking, gemlike emerald one second and bluish the next, sparkling and changeable as I got lost in their bottomless beauty.

"Because it's a life commitment. You shouldn't just jump into it without being sure."

"Time doesn't matter when you want something. We just fool ourselves that we need it. I can marry you now and love you for the rest of my life." He didn't even flinch as he delivered those heavy words, while on the other hand, I was struck by them, and my entire system immobilized. I have never been as grateful for a green traffic light as I was at that moment, when impatient drivers began blasting their horns behind us and Myles had to divert his breathtaking stare away from me. That way, I found air in my lungs again.

It was then, when I could breathe again, that I put together his statement. He meant he was going to love Autumn forever. A pang built in my chest at the ache of the thought. I switched back to a proper sitting position and stared into the distance, blinking away the tears.

For the rest of the drive, I stayed quiet, pondering how much I could take before I broke, having to watch someone I loved with another woman.

After he parked, he tapped my shoulder, and I felt the spark run through me, but sadly, he felt nothing.

"We're here," he announced when I darted a look at him.

"Okay."

Upon arrival, I immediately put together that this place wasn't a gymnasium.

"You train here?" I gaped at the vast park with a beach in the distance.

He spun and walked backward, facing me. "No. It's your first time out of the condo. You deserve some memories. Let's create some for you."

I was astonished by the unexpected change of plans. I exhaled a shocked laugh and followed him, my head ready to explode, when he grabbed my hand.

Oh. My. Goal. He grabbed my hand.

We headed for the skatepark, where young people and adults were enjoying intense rides. I had never skated, so I didn't know how to maintain my stance on a moving board. Back home, the boys who skated at school were the ones constantly reaping detention hours, and that was somewhere I'd never been. So I ruled skating out as a bad idea, until now, when Myles rented a board from some teenage boys who suddenly recognized him and asked for a photo.

"I'll hold it," I offered, and took the board from the boys, but Myles collected it back and held it to his chest while they posed around him for the pictures.

One of the little boys told Myles he wanted to be a basketball player, but he could barely aim at a hoop.

"I think you just need more practice and devotion. I used to skate often in middle school. I didn't know how to handle a ball, but I got to high school and found it compulsory. It was wrestling or basketball, and there was no way I was going into fighting. So instead, I signed up for basketball and intimidated the intimidating seniors, though I was only a freshman."

The boys were all in awe of the story, as was I.

Watching Myles with his fans, mostly these young boys, was a beautiful thing I wouldn't have minded beholding all day.

"I'll sign up when school resumes," the boy decided excitedly. Myles lifted his fist, and the boy bumped his knuckles against it. It was adorable.

"Okay, I have to go now. Remember not to give up. You'll inspire the world someday," he told the beaming group.

"You're a natural," I laughed when we walked arm in arm toward the skatepark. "Are you that inspiring every day?"

"They're young people. They need all the motivation they can get from the people they look up to," he remarked passionately.

I nudged his arm playfully while giggling. "That's not what I asked."

We stopped at the edge of the extension, and he faced me, smiling placidly, lips sealed, magnetic bluish eyes daring me. "What if I ask you that later?"

I lowered my gaze to his chest and agreed with a nod.

"Can you roll down the bowl?" He jerked his head toward what looked like a drained pool, and my fear spiked at the depth.

I glanced up at him and shook my head.

"Okay. Come." He didn't make a joke or mock me, as those boys from my school usually did at my expense.

I was caught up in admiration until I felt my legs leaving the ground.

"What are you doing?" I panicked.

"Do you trust me?" he asked in my ear, as I clung to him, my legs wrapped around his waist and my hands clasped at the back of his neck.

"Yes. Maybe." I rushed my reply and squeezed my eyes shut. The fear of depth and falling dominated my heart. I couldn't bring myself to care about the fireworks in my stomach at the fact that I was clinging to Myles Cameron's perfect body and breathing in his masculine scent.

"Hold on to me tightly," he advised, and I felt us shoot down, my hair flowing through the wind and flying into my face while I screamed, anticipating a fall that never happened. Then we slowed down, and he laughed out loud. His body shook with the sound, and the seductive noise kept playing in my ear.

He was warm and cozy. He smelled too good to be real. I tightened my arms around his neck, but not too tightly. I felt him loosen up. We kept moving for a long while, and with my eyes closed, I could only guess we were on a flat surface. He didn't start a conversation, and I didn't attempt to step down from his nurturing body. And when he brought his hand to my back, warmth spread across my face.

There was a connection in the serenity. I could feel every bit of him, his breath and his heartbeat, steady and peaceful. Could he feel it too?

The funniest thing was that I never learned to skate that day. I just snuggled in my crush's arms the whole time and enjoyed an endless ride around the professional skaters. It was the first time since my best friend's burial that I felt an ounce of hope.

We stopped by a hot dog stand and finished three each. I didn't know I had the stomach to absorb that much until Myles claimed he was faster. Despite my effort, he still proved himself right; he was quick and competitive. He won in under two minutes, if not one, given I didn't focus on the time.

On the drive back, we talked about the palm trees by the side of the road and my scream when we descended the bowl on the skateboard.

As I laughed while he imitated my scream, some locks of hair fell over my face. Before I could tuck them back, I felt long, warm fingers brushing them away and hooking them behind my ear.

I didn't look over at him. He couldn't see the blush on my face. I bit my bottom lip and stifled an ecstatic smile as chills ran down my spine at the contact of his skin against mine.

* * *

At the condominium, we headed for the elevator side by side, our fingers touching. I wished he would turn over his hand and lace his fingers with mine. Even here it seemed like we were headed toward heaven, until a man called Myles's name from behind us, and we promptly pulled our hands away simultaneously. I don't know why.

When we turned, I met a middle-aged man in a black suit. His hair was gelled.

His smile was awkward, forced, and he said nothing.

"Cali, this is Nelson, my manager. Nelson, Cali is Brayden's sister," Myles introduced us.

I knew that was the proper way to address me, but even so, it didn't stop me from wanting more.

"Oh." That was all the man said.

There was a silence. It was my cue, so I said goodbye and headed to Brayden's floor.

I was still grinning as I reminisced about the skatepark when I walked into the apartment.

"Where have you been?" a familiar voice startled me.

I jumped and shot my brother a glare. He was standing in the kitchen, preparing something.

"Don't give me that face," he scolded.

"Chill. I was at the skatepark. I'm allowed to have fun and socialize. Wasn't that the point of changing my environment?" I rolled my eyes and headed for my room. He followed, annoying me more.

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't pick up your phone when I call. Or leave at least a note with your location on the table."

It was then that it occurred to me I had a phone and hadn't cared for it the whole day.

"Okay, Mom," I slurred when I reached the room and pushed the door closed to block him, but he stopped the door from closing by pressing his hand against the other side.

"I'm serious. It might be fun here, but that doesn't mean it's always safe," he said solemnly.

"Okay, I'll let you know my whereabouts next time." I heaved a sigh, but he still held the door, his expression far from satisfied.

"I promise," I vowed, palm up.

That worked. He sighed and let go of the door.

I locked it instantly and sped over to my box, snatching out my diary, where I wrote every moment of the time I spent around Myles Cameron.