This place felt… still. Presley wasn’t actually sure how she felt about the quiet overall, but right this second, as the cabin loomed, it made it possible tohearher pulse shifting into overdrive, echoing loudly in her own ears. There was nothing tranquil about the way it picked up its pace. All her planning and she never could have foreseen this path. Never would have imagined herself taking it. Time was a funny thing; hers here was limited, and it made her braver.
When she entered the cabin, Beckett nearly jumped out of his shorts. His phone flew from his hand, fortunately landing on the couch.
Presley paused by the door, brows raised. “Am I interrupting?” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, watching the flush of color rise up his neck, over his cheeks.
He glanced at his phone before his gaze darted back to hers. “I…” That was it. His sentence ended there, and he sighed, heavily, his shoulders sagging even as he reached for his phone.
Gliding his thumb over the screen, he held it out to her. Her stomach turned into an active beehive—too many things buzzing around inside of her—as she stepped forward. She didn’t truly know this man, and how much could she trust her gut, given how she’d ended up here alone? Was he going to show her something that would send her running? Definitely not how she’d planned to spend the evening.
Their fingers touched as she took the phone, sending a little thrill through her from that simple connection. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to look down at the screen. When she did, she laughed. Loudly. Looking up, she saw the embarrassment in his hunched shoulders.
Hurrying over, she sat beside him on the couch, setting his phone down on the coffee table.
“You jumped like that because of this? I seriously thought I was about to see something kinky or perverse.”
His gaze flew to hers. “What? Like what? Never mind. I don’t want to know. This is bad enough.” He gestured to his phone.
“Instagram?”
“I downloaded it, Presley. I joined.” He lowered his chin. “I followed you. And my sister, the lodge, a bunch of people in town. Even Gramps, the mayor of Smile, has an account.”
She bit her lip, hard, because she sensed this was a serious issue for him and not one he found nearly as amusing as she did.
“That makes sense. People use it as a way to connect. It can be whatever you want it to, Beckett. You don’t have to use it, but really, if you’re going to start your own business, you should be on social media. It’s a great way to advertise and connect with your audience.”
He shook his head, took her hand in his like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like holding hands on the couch was an old habit of theirs.
“I don’t have anything to share or post. I don’t want to waste my lifestaring at someone’s best moments online when I can belivingmy best moments for real. My brother’s ex posted daily about their incredible relationship and it was all lies. Jill was shocked by the split because once a day, minimum, she’d get notified that they were still in love. These sites, they’re a way for people to perform. You lose who you are to become someone followers want to see.”
He wasn’t entirely wrong. She inhaled deeply, thinking about her next words. “I don’t think that has to be true. I think we have the potential to lose ourself in anything. But it doesn’t mean wehaveto. It’s another choice we’re offered in life. No one is asking you to be anything you aren’t. It’s truly a great marketing tool and a wonderful way to keep up with people you couldn’t otherwise see face-to-face.”
His brows arched. “Is that what you use it for?” He picked up his phone, brought up her account. He scrolled through her most recent photos, turning his phone so they could both see. She’d gotten a beautiful shot of the water from their hike. “‘Connecting with nature’?” His lips quirked.
“Okay. Yeah. You decide how you want people to see you. Especially when you know people are looking. But that’s almost more power. You control the narrative.” She thought about the photo shehadn’tposted; the one where she and Beckett looked like they were about to get lost in each other. She hadn’t shared it because it felt too… real. Too honest. Too personal. Maybe he had more of a point than she wanted to concede.
“I like focusing on what’s real,” Beckett said. It seemed like he wanted to say more. He set his phone down, turned his body toward her. “I think it’s hard to decide what to share and what not to. Then it becomes hard to decipher what’s real and what isn’t.”
She sensed they were moving into new territory here. Her breath caught. “That’s fair. You can’t always do that from a picture. So just use it for your business.” His gaze had lit up when he spoke about it. She needed to spend some time in his hometown. He clearly loved it. And his family.
His thumb moved over her hand, increasing in pressure. Theyshared the same air without moving and she envisioned pressing “like” on this moment a million times. “It’s human nature to be curious about the lives of others. But you’re right in that those snapshots into their worlds can make us question our own. Make us miss out on our own moments.”
Beckett’s free hand moved up to her face. He traced the line of her jaw with his index finger, then sank the rest of his hand into her hair. The way his fingers tangled in it mirrored the wayhewas tangling himself into her heart.
He lowered his chin. “I wouldn’t want to miss this. Not that I would mind a picture of us.”
She leaned forward, scooted his phone forward, turned it toward them, leaning in, not for show but because he was someone she wanted to be close to. He smiled. There was nothing pretend in either of their gazes. She snapped the photo, set his phone down.
“Not everything has to be for someone else.”
His fingers continued to dance over her skin, slow and seductive like an unhurried waltz. “No. That one can be just for us.”
Presley wrapped her hand around his wrist, squeezed his other hand tight. “Then we don’t have to hashtag or caption it.”
He laughed, but the sound was rough and heavy. His fingers pressed into the back of her neck, making her skin feel alive.
“Could you?”
She laughed. “Not without getting put in Instagram jail.”
