Page 56 of Someone Exactly Like Me (Wounded Hearts 1)
“It’s very peaceful. Someday I’ll have a house on the beach.”
“I have no doubt that you will.”
We walk the rest of the way listening to the waves sing their melody and letting the water caress our feet.
“I’m going to go in the water. Will you bring my shell back for me?” I hand her the shell she picked for me.
“Sure. Enjoy your swim.”
Destiny
There’s much more to this man than meets the eye. He’s insightful, pensive, sincere. This is unexpected. I do hope he puts his T-shirt back on when he comes back. His bare chest is distracting. Even though I’ve already had the pleasure of stroking his chest and abs with oily hands, just the sight of him makes my body tingle. Sure, I’ve seen plenty of shirtless men before, but no one like him. His broad chest expands out to his toned shoulders and narrows toward his waist and that sexy V-line. Mediterranean skin covered with the perfect amount of hair, and hard nipples, always. Beautifully outlined six-pack without being overly rippled. He’s the kind of unrealistic fantasy-man I write about, and he’s so very real. Thank goodness for my sunglasses, at least he can’t see me ogling him like a teenager.
I take waters out of the cooler for us then sit back in my chair, get out my book, and start reading. About ten minutes later, Nicco’s walking up from the water. Oh God, here comes that slow-motion time-warp again. He’s dripping wet, pushing his hair back off his face, arm muscles tensing as he does, glistening in the sun, and walking towardme. I can’t even look away. My gaze follows a trickle of salt water that rides the center channel of his chest down his abs and is then captured by a tiny curl of hair at his naval. Holy hell, this man is hot. Whoowh.Get a grip on yourself.
“That was fast.”
“Yes, I just wanted to cool off before our next round of questions,” he says, grabbing his towel and rubbing his hair with it. “I need a cigarette.”
“You’ll have to go to the parking lot, there’s no smoking allowed on the beach.”
“Okay,” he says, taking out a cigarette from his pack and grabbing a very worn looking lighter. “I’ll be right back.”
When he returns, he doesn’t put his shirt back on. So distracting.
“Okay, I’m ready for more questions,” he says, sitting back in his chair and taking a swig of water. “Can I have some of those chips you brought?”
“Of course.” I hand him the bag of chips and a paper towel. “All right, here we go. What motivates you when you’re having a bad day?”
“My fans. I would be nothing without my fans. They show up for me and I appreciate them so much. I must show up for them.” He tosses a chip in his mouth.
“What do you want for your future?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. “I want a fulfilling life. I want my life to mean something. I want to leave my mark in some way.”
“Do you want a family someday?”
“I…” He hesitates. “I do, but I don’t know if that’s going to be possible for me.”
“Why?” Surely at some point he’ll want to stop sleeping around and settle down. His playboy persona, I’m learning, is quite contrary to who he truly is.
“It’s my work, my lifestyle, the traveling. It’s not so good for a relationship,” he says, opening his hands in a sort of surrender then folding them together.
“Is that why you sleep with women, but rarely have relationships with them?”
“It’s best for both of us,” he says, removing his sunglasses and putting them on the blanket. He takes a breath, locking his eyes on mine. “That way there’s no emotional attachment and no one gets hurt,” he deadpans.
“I guess that’s one way to go through life.” There’s something more behind this. I can feel it in the incongruence of the words he speaks and the emotions hidden behind them. His words are empty, but there’s something beneath them. Pain. “What’s the one thing you want your fans to know about you?”
“No, not me. I want them to know thattheycan do anything. If I have any impact on this world, I want it to be that I inspire people to never give up on their dreams. That anything is possible.” The passion he has when he talks about his work and his fans is powerful, endearing.
I read the next question. Maybe I should skip it. I can make up those parts.
“What’s the next one?”
“Oh um, what scares you?”
“That’s what made you hesitate?”
