Suddenly he was a lot more awake. The bed shifted as he found my mouth with his, the kiss lighting through me with a shocking pulse. His hand pressed my shoulder, and my fist tightened at the back of his neck. I was suddenly a lot more awake, too.

“Donald?” echoed in the hallway. “Do we have any more strawberries? They’ve got to come out of there eventually. It’s after noon!”

Breathless, I pulled back. Our lips parted with a sharp smack, and I realized his leg had slipped between mine, almost pinning me—not that I minded. His smile was content as we listened to Takata’s rumbling voice answer my mom, and I snuggled into him. I didn’t particularly want to get up, but even as my mom might have bunked us together, she also wouldn’t have any hesitation about knocking on our door.

My pulse slowed. I listened to Trent’s heartbeat, breathing him in and reluctant to move. I liked waking up like this, but was it realistic to even hope it could last? As in a permanent situation? I knew better than to look for a happily ever after. My track record spoke for itself.

“Still can’t see it?” Trent said.

My lips quirked. “How do you do that?” I asked softly, and his hand traced tingles on my shoulder as he slipped the thin strap down.

“It’s inevitable,” he said, as sensation raced from his touch. “We do well together. For example, what do you want to do today?”

My schedule was already full of handling the unknown, but I sat up, willing to play the game. “Oh, I don’t know,” I said, knowing Trent would be recognized anywhere the moment he set foot in public. “Have strawberries for breakfast, lay out on the beach, maybe do some bikini shopping. A little light dinner on a boat. Go to bed before the sun comes up. Wake around noon and do it again.”

Propped up on an elbow, he smiled and tucked my snarled hair behind an ear. His stubble caught the light, and I wanted to feel its roughness. “See what I mean?” he said, the sheet slipping to show a new and very nice angle of him. “That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Smirking, I scooted down and tucked myself next to him. My real list was a lot different: check the news to see if our fake death gamble worked, make a soul bottle for Ivy, dodge uncomfortable questions from my mom.

Suddenly I realized Trent’s hand was moving, ever moving, against me, running behind my ear with a comfortable security, as if he’d been doing it for years. “There’s absolutely nothing I can do,” he said around a sigh, gazing past me to the private beach. “And a hundred things I should.”