Outrage prickles my skin. “Did you kiss me for that? To, what, psychoanalyze my motivations?” Again, I reiterate, this time through gritted teeth: “I am not a spy.”
He nods. “I know. And now I know for sure.” And he smiles — a devastating thing that makes my heart race when he turns it on me. “Goodnight, camgirl.”
Dazed, I wish him goodnight, my hand still wrapped in a cold bandage. I realize I still don’t know the name of my gorgeous kisser. The first thing I do when I reach my bunk is grab my phone with my left hand and awkwardly search “royal element seth leon.”
A picture of the two of them appears. I’m not going mad — the first page is entirely devoted to article after article comparing the two and even spot-the-difference tests. Apparently one of the main giveaways is that Leon has an elaborate tattoo at the top of his arm.
I squint again at the picture of the two of them. Leon is tall with high cheekbones. Seth is slim and lithe, like some kind of cat-boy.
I run my thumb over his name. Seth Fawkes.
I think of his whispered “Can I kiss you?” and frown.
Not many men ask that before going in for a kiss.
Not many men try to heal a stranger’s burn wounds.
I guess Seth is the gentleman.
4. SETH
THERE IS FIRE. A GIRL in white silk smiles at me. The tops of her breasts bulge over her tight, scooped neckline. Is her dress see-through or am I only wishing it is? Her sleeves billow softly against my skin as she reaches out. She trails a hand down my face, my body, down to where my cock stirs, desperate for her touch. I’m dazed; all I can see is bright white heat — am I dead? Her lips hover beside mine, teasing. I lean forward, curling my hand in her dark hair, with the single-minded desire to kiss her against this backdrop of flames...
“You know there are these places to sleep called beds?” she whispers seductively.
What a strange thing to say. My eyes drift open to meet hers.
My eyes land on Adam.
I jerk away from his grinning face. My hand is stuck in midair, like it’s about to arm-wrestle an invisible opponent. I’m slumped against the kitchen table, sporting a rock-hard erection, and Adam’s staring at me like the cat who got the cream.
“Fuck.”
“Certainly sounded like you were about to.” He starts to moan, high-pitched and ridiculous. “Ohhh, more, baby, more!”
I glare at him as he dissolves into laughter.
“What time is it, you maniac?”
He grins at me, irritatingly perky for whatever godforsaken time in the morning it is. “Seven.”
“Man, I only got to sleep two hours ago.”
“Yeah, we went through a time zone or three.”
“I can’t keep these time zones straight. It’s like I’m always playing catch-up.”
Adam folds his arms and leans against the table. “Go on, who were you dreaming about?” He looks curious, and no wonder. “It’s not like you to let your eye wander. You’re the well-behaved one.”
I roll my wandering eyes. “Been cooped up in here too long. Going mental, lusting over the first sight of a real woman.”
Adam’s eyes widen. “Nooo...” He nods in the direction of her bunk. “You dreamed of Kat?”
I shrug. “Camgirl? Yeah, we talked last night. She was nice.”
Am I seeing things or did Adam’s gaze shutter at that? Interesting.
“Please tell me you did not call her ‘camgirl’?”
I look at him in confusion. “What, why?”
Adam runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. It riles me up.
“She uses cameras! What’s wrong with calling her camgirl?”
He laughs at me, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Oh, brother,” he says, slinging an arm around me. He bangs his head against mine and murmurs, “So innocent.”
“What?”
With a sigh, Adam draws out his phone from his back pocket. He taps his screen a couple of times and then hands it to me.
“Search for it.”
Frowning, I pick up his phone — something that would probably be considered ancient in the tech world, but Adam’s like that, someone who’ll do his own thing. I type in the word “camgirl” and, raising an eyebrow at Adam, wait for the page to load.
He cocks his head to the side and watches as I return my gaze to the phone.
And stare.
Articles upon articles assault my eyes, each with a headline blaring something like: “HOW I EARNED 70K AS A CAMGIRL”, “WHY YOU SHOULD NOT BE A CAMGIRL”, “IS THE PORN INDUSTRY READY FOR CAMGIRLS?” The picture alongside a page discreetly titled “Webcam Model” demonstrates that your typical camgirl is busty, half-naked, and fond of technology to a rather extreme degree.
“Well, shit.”
“Yeah, I don’t think a camgirl is really the same thing as a camerawoman.”
“Shit.”
Adam seems to be finding this the funniest thing ever. I glare at him — but he shuts up completely when the door to Kat’s bunk slides open.
She pads into the kitchen barefoot and sleepy-eyed. When she notices Adam and me, she stops, as though unsure whether she’s allowed to enter.
“Come in,” I tell her. “You’re not interrupting anything important.” My snark is reserved for Adam. With a grunt, Adam stalks over to the sink, his back to us as he pours out some cereal.
Kat’s smile is radiant when she looks at me. My heart performs some pathetic flutter against my chest.
“Good morning,” she says cheerfully, perching on a stool. “Big day today.”
I try to make sense of her excitement. “How do you mean?”
“Your gig! Dubrovnik!” She beams, and her genuine enthusiasm is refreshing, if not completely misplaced. “I’m still jet-lagged but it should be fun. I’ve never been to a gig.”
I stare at her. To us, Dubrovnik is Gig Number 159. And maybe it’s awful, but when you’ve been on the road all this time, they all start to merge into one.
To have never even been to a gig, though — that’s almost unthinkable. I find myself feeling sorry for her.
Adam slides a bowl of flakes into the middle of the table. It’s not exactly clear who it’s for, so I slowly pick up the spoon as a test.
“It’s hers,” he says in a gruff voice. I lower the spoon, confused about the change in Adam’s demeanor, and pass the bowl across to Kat.
“Thank you,” she says gratefully to Adam’s back. It tenses slightly as he pours out another bowl.
I raise my eyebrows at her but she shakes her head with a sad shrug of her shoulders. What happened to maybe we should be nice to her?
As Kat eats, a thought seems to strike her. “Would you be able to help me test my camera out?” She asks it to me, cautious, but I notice Adam glancing over his shoulder.
“Of course,” I tell her. And, with as much subtlety as a brick, I add, “I’m sorry, but I think I called you a camgirl last night. I’ve been reliably informed that this was a mistake. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Kat’s mouth twitches and her eyes slant toward Adam, whose back is still turned. “I thought it was cute,” she tells me. In a staged whisper, she adds, “Though where you suddenly learned that camgirl might be an awkward thing to call someone, I have nooo idea.”