How That Makes You Feel

By Elle Diaz

A reformed hot mess and a thrill-seeker forced back to his hometown find their second (or maybe third or fourth?) chance in each other in this funny, sizzling contemporary romance.

Therapist Camila Moore isn't the girl she used to be. D

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elle Diaz Romance
• Release date: Feb 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088250747

Book preview

one

Camila Moore was losing her shit.

She thought she’d have more time for her covert mission, but the hellish tornadofuck of Pittsburgh traffic unraveled her careful plans. Now she had maybe ten minutes to find the perfect gift for her best friend, Era, and hide it before she met her at the Three Rivers Arts Festival.

The deep fried Oreos would have to wait. Her sole focus was getting to the Hoult’s Jewelry booth without being incinerated by the infernal June heat.

Camila had stalked Hoult’s Instagram, bookmarking almost the entire month’s feed. Druzy stone pendants and raw diamond earrings. Bib necklaces showcasing wild blooms in delicate metal lines that were thin as thread. Mosaic cuffs made from the smashed pieces of thrifted wedding china. The shop had started as a mom-and-pop watch place that later added avant-garde pieces and mini art installations to its stock of classic diamond rings.

Era had once bought her a beautiful bracelet there. The tiny sapphire was her something blue more than a decade ago, when Camila had gotten married right out of college. It was fitting that Camila return to find Era something in honor of her nuptials — which she hoped would yield better results than Camila’s now-dissolved union.

Once she found the booth, she was impressed by how they’d captured the same whimsy of the physical store in a smaller, temporary location. Her first stop was the display of ornate necklaces on faux marble busts. Her fingers lingered inches away from one made of three strands of intricate rose gold chain maille and black glass beads. She very much wanted to touch them, to see if the beads felt as cool as they looked.

Camila walked toward a sculpture she’d admired online, surprised to see it at the booth. It was a papier-mâché longhorn skull. Its horns were wrapped in gold twine. The skull itself was striped with tiny emerald stones and topped with a crown of blue paper flowers. Camila was charmed by it. It reminded her of the masks of the diablos cojuelos in the Dominican Republic — the carnaval revelers who paraded through the street in monstrous, sequined garb and devilish masks. Her mother told her they used to hit bystanders with stinky sheep bladders. She reached for her phone, ready to snap a shot of the art.

My kid sister made that, a man’s voice said.

She’s talented, she said, searching for the voice. It belonged to a very cute guy behind the register. He had floppy dark brown hair and cheekbones that she could slice a mango with, and full lips curled in what she might call a smirk. But there was something sweet about his eyes, framed by square glasses.

She didn’t sleep for a week finishing it, he said, pride in his voice. Then, as if it was an afterthought: I probably shouldn’t have let that happen.

The muse doesn’t come at convenient times, I guess, Camila said.

Which is exactly what she said when she bailed on helping me today, the man said. Are you looking for anything in particular?

He’d left his post to stand by her now. Exuding calm was a tool in her arsenal that she didn’t expect to need today. But now she had to interact with someone attractive, and all bets were off.

I’m looking for a gift for my friend who is getting married. I was thinking a necklace. She bought me a bracelet from Hoult’s. It’s kind of my good luck charm, actually.

Not that she’d had tons of luck, so she wasn’t sure why she always called it that. But she did love the bracelet. She was all about bold necklaces and big pavé hoops that popped against her golden brown skin. But the bracelet felt perfect, like her best friend was telling her she saw the delicate side of Camila under all that bravado.

Lucky charm, huh? I love hearing that. Tell me about your friend. What’s she like?

She’s super cool. She runs a tech startup. Phone games, cozy console games, and educational stuff. Colorful dresser, Ms. Frizzle vibes, but punk rock, if that makes sense? She’s kind and funny and ambitious. She has a lot of quiet confidence. There she went with the rambling. Maybe it was because she spent all day listening to people in her job as a therapist, but when Camila got to talking, it was hard to stop herself. But you just want to know if she likes yellow or white gold.

That does help, but you paint a nice picture, he said, making his way to a display of pendants. And I think I’ve got the perfect thing.

He held out a delicate necklace with a hexagonal crystal, each link of the chain a different color spanning every sub-hue of the rainbow. When it caught the light, the rutilated crystal glowed lavender.

What do you think? he asked. Something like this?

The knot in Camila’s chest loosened. She held out her palm for the pendant’s cool heft. This is so her. She smiled at him, then wondered if she had sesame seeds in her teeth from the General Tso’s chicken she scarfed down at her desk earlier. You’re good at this.

He shrugged, but she could tell he felt proud. She looked at the price tag, made a quick calculation, and said, I’ll take it. Thanks for your help.

Any time, he said.

He rang her up, but he stopped cold when she handed him her credit card.

Is that the bracelet you got here? he asked.

She rubbed her wrist under the silver and sapphire bracelet, suddenly anxious. Yeah. Why?

I think … I think I made that.

You did?

Yup. God, that must have been like ten, twelve years ago? Definitely when I was in college. So, my mother owned this store, and this was probably the first piece I made that she let me sell. He leaned over the display case and extended his hand. I’m Zach Hoult, by the way. This is my family’s shop. Or my shop, I guess.

Camila Moore, she said, clasping his strong, warm hand. Nice to meet you, Zach. You make a good bracelet.

He laughed, a soft but rich sound. My sister is the one with the real artistic talent, but I remember that bracelet being good work, he said. When he smiled, his lickable cheekbones were even more prominent. He had freckles. Freckles, damn him! She wanted to play connect the dots with them, they were so cute.

May I? he asked, motioning at her wrist.

Oh, sure.

He raised her right hand in his warm fingers, turning it wrist up. He slipped his fingers under the thin strand of metal, leaned just a few inches closer to inspect the sapphire, adjusting those goddamn glasses that he must wear just to torment anyone with a pulse. Camila kept her face neutral, her breath soft. That polite touch of his fingers — rough at the tips from working the metal, no doubt — on the sensitive skin of her wrist shouldn’t have been so tantalizing. He wasn’t moving in slow motion. The touch wasn’t a caress. This encounter wasn’t taking longer than a few seconds. But she felt like she was watching all this happen to saxophone music.

Fucking hell, was she ovulating?

Back in the real world, Zach pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and let go of her wrist, a wistful look in his eyes. She was bereft.

Hey, friends and family discount on the necklace, he said. We’re old pals by way of jewelry.

She thanked him and watched as he finished ringing her up, carefully wrapping the box in tissue paper and placing it in a silver bag. She watched the black cotton of his shirt move over his shoulders. Era texted her then, asking where she was.

My friend is walking up, Camila said. Act cool.

He gave her a conspiratorial smile as he placed the shopping bag inside her purse, which she’d plopped on the counter. Your secret’s safe with me, he said.

Moments later, she heard the soft trill of Era’s voice while she pretended to look at some earrings.

There you are! Era said. She wrapped her in a quick hug.

I’m glad you could leave your cave for a few hours for this, Camila said. Is Seth on his way?

Yeah, he’s right behind me. He needed to caffeinate.

Oh, he needed to? Camila teased.

Era laughed and shook her head, which today was topped with purple braids that danced across her shoulders in a high ponytail. It would change within the month. You know how I get when I plug in.

So, anything new on the wedding planning?

You know, Mamas Wu and Jones keep trying to steamroll, Era said with a sigh. She shifted her attention to a gold filigree bracelet.

The subject of Seth and Era’s mothers was fraught. This is just an emotionally heightened time for them, Camila said. They’re status conscious, hyper focused on details and perception. But it is your wedding, and you can set boundaries. She cringed at the look Era was giving her, the one that said don’t psychoanalyze me.

Right. Because Seth is totally on board with setting boundaries, Era said. Speak of the devil.

Seth Wu was power-walking toward them, carrying a tray of coffees. He was in his version of Saturday casual — an Armani T-shirt with diagonal stripes, French tucked into dark bootcut jeans and sneakers that cost more than Camila’s rent. His were a green and blue version of the pink and purple pair Era sported.

Sorry I’m late, he said, giving Era a quick peck on the lips. Red eye for you, babe, and for Jim, iced white chocolate mocha.

Jim was the pair’s favorite nickname for her, a nod to her maiden name, Jimenez.

Thanks, hon. Era took a sip of the coffee and scowled. I don’t taste that extra espresso shot. Sure you’re not trying to slip me decaf?

I learned my lesson about that. The placebo effect doesn’t work on you. Seth turned to Camila. Good to see you. What have you been up to?

Oh, you know. My caseload is out of control as usual. But I’m not going to complain about work today. Today, I am a patron of the arts.

Ooh, look at this, Era said, crouching to get a close look at a jeweled headpiece. Wouldn’t this be so much prettier than a stuffy old veil?

Are the Mamas going to approve? Camila teased in a whisper, prompting a tut. Era sighed and turned away from the headpiece.

Camila admired a pair of rose gold chandelier earrings, stroking the metal droplets. Over her shoulder, she heard Zach’s puzzled voice.

Seth Wu?

Zach! Seth rushed to the counter and Zach stepped out, and they gave each other a handshake and half-hug. Holy shit, it’s been so long! When did you get back to town?

Camila watched Zach shift his weight uncomfortably. About six months ago.

Seth winced. Yeah, I heard about your mom passing. I’m so sorry. She helped with one of our women in business seminars a few years ago. She was incredibly inspiring.

Thanks, man, Zach said. You are … maybe the first person I’ve ever heard say something nice about her.

He turned and found her gaze on him, and when he looked at her, Camila’s ribs ignited.

Seth and I went to high school together, he explained.

Oh no, Era groaned. We’re surrounded by private schoolers!

Seth tutted. We were on yearbook together. Hey! Seth turned to Zach. Do you want to come out with us tonight? We’re going to karaoke. We can catch up, and I can tell you about the business-in-transition programs the Wu Foundation has.

Babe, are you ever not on? Era asked.

We’re just chatting, Seth said, coming over to wrap his arm around the small of Era’s back. And, you know, we can just hang out, Seth conceded, to Era’s nodded approval.

You should come, Camila said. She didn’t miss the way Era’s head jerked toward her, like a suspicious meerkat. We get real theatrical with it.

"That does sound more fun than another Drag Race marathon with my demon sister, Zach said. What time?"

Hoping he wouldn’t feel the shake in her hand, Camila gave him her phone to add his info and told him the details. Then he exchanged numbers with Seth and rang up Era’s headpiece purchase.

So what’s your go-to song? Zach asked, looking at her with those intense, smiling green eyes. Not quite green, exactly — more like whiskey and muddled mint, like ice on a burn.

Oh, I don’t really have one. I just see where the night takes me. Turning to her friends, she asked, "Should we do a lap? Shall we promenade?"

Yes, let us do a turn about the lawn, Era said, putting her pinky up over her coffee.

Nice meeting you, Zach, she said. See you tonight?

Definitely, he said. His smile was warm and a little mischievous. She tried to ignore the fluttering in her chest.

When Zach was in high school, none of the restaurants on the strip near the football stadium containing The Long Pig had existed. If there had been restaurants there back then, none would have served seitan mac and cashew cheese in individual cast iron pots paired with craft beer flights. The restaurant had an impressive setup for karaoke, with a giant flatscreen playing music videos along with the lyrics.

It’s not that he was asocial — you’ve gotta know how to make small talk when you spend any amount of time traveling alone, which Zach had done for a year — but the stakes felt higher now that he was stuck in the ’Burgh for the foreseeable future. People came and went in his life, and he let them.

But the way he felt so drawn to the woman he’d met that afternoon should have felt like a warning, a reminder that in this city, connections had the potential to last, to get their hooks into you.

He was used to no one breaking the skin.

He spotted Camila, Era, Seth and a blonde woman he didn’t know at a table near the stage. Seth waved him over.

Hey, Seth, Zach said, pulling up the empty chair next to him. Era. Camila.

Camila acknowledged him with a warm smile before returning to the binder. He deflated.

Hey, I’m Ivy, the other woman said. I hear — because Seth won’t shut up about it — that we have a lot in common.

Ivy’s also a small business owner, Seth said proudly.

And like you, she grew up here, left, and now she’s back, Era added.

Oh yeah? Where from?

I mean, a few places. I moved around a lot the last decade. Atlanta. Vancouver. Los Angeles for a few years.

Oh, stop, Camila said, jerking her gaze away from the song binder. You’re doing that thing.

Excuse you very much, what thing?

The same thing Seth does when he says he ‘went to college in Boston,’ Era said, dropping her voice all the octaves on the last part.

Seth feigned outrage. Should I embrace it and just tattoo ‘Harvard’ on my forehead? That seems gauche.

Camila cut in before Era could respond. Ivy is a retired Hollywood stuntwoman.

Stunt performer, Ivy corrected. And yes, unfortunately, I am what passes for a celebrity in this town.

That’s awesome, Zach said. Anything I would have seen you in?

Ivy answered, You know that superhero movie?

Which one?

All of them, she said with a laugh.

Her IMDB page is ridiculous, Camila said.

The off-key performer wailing Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide finished up to polite applause.

So what are you doing now? Zach asked.

Ivy sipped her martini. I own a gym — mixed martial arts, stunt training, weightlifting.

Sounds very much in your wheelhouse, then.

Camila here is my star bo staff student, Ivy said.

Hitting things with a stick is my true calling, Camila said reverently. It’s so much nicer than any other gym I’ve been to. Ivy’s made the space super inclusive. It’s such a good vibe.

Yeah, especially coming from my background, I know a lot of gyms feel unapproachable, especially to trans people, fat people, disabled people, Ivy added. I wanted my place to be welcoming and fun. I have a strict no creeps policy. And we put on a lot of nerdy themed classes. I’ve gotten a lot of positive feedback since we opened.

By ‘positive feedback,’ she means a front-page newspaper article and thousands of new social media followers, Seth said, while typing a text on his watch at eye-popping speed.

No one reads newspapers anymore, Ivy said.

Seth looked insulted. I do!

Was he like this in high school? Era asked.

Zach nodded despite Seth staring daggers. Oh yeah, he was all business even then. Except for that time someone tested his competitive streak against a row of Jell-O shots.

First and last time I’ve ever succumbed to peer pressure, Seth said, laughing.

After Ivy showed Zach some photos of the gym, then a couple of backstage images of her with some A-list actors she doubled for, Zach excused himself to go get a drink.

As he waited for his Manhattan, Camila was called to the stage.

She was most definitely a karaoke girl. She reached for the mic like it was a birthday gift.

The dim spotlight wove through her hair, made her crimson lips pop against her brown skin. He could see it like a photograph, the background blurred and her in focus. She looked every bit the starlet, just in a sequin top instead of a bejeweled gown.

And then she opened that lovely, red mouth and gave the most convincing rendition of Florence + The Machine’s Dog Days Are Over. It was clear she was having a blast, closing her eyes and swaying to the melodic parts, stomping her foot and popping her hips for the raucous bridge and chorus. The crowd was loving it. The smile on Zach’s face hurt, it was so long since he’d grinned that way.

Other parts of his anatomy were causing some strain, too.

Not content to just imagine the pretty picture she made, he pulled out his phone and snapped a few shots.

She bowed dramatically as her friends hooted.

After she was done, she walked up to the bar and pulled up a stool next to him.

You were great up there, he said. Can I buy your next drink?

That’s sweet of you. Thanks! She placed a hand on his shoulder, just for a second. Shirley Temple, please, she asked the bartender. They were quiet as the bartender poured the grenadine into the Sprite, save for Zach signaling the drink should go on his tab.

No glasses tonight? she asked.

I only wear them when I’m too lazy or busy for contacts. So, most of the time.

Camila plucked a cherry out of the drink and put it in her mouth, red on red. Zach would be seeing that color in his dreams tonight, he was sure of it. I like the glasses. So. Are you going to sing for me?

Zach laughed. I don’t know. Maybe.

OK, OK, Camila said. I’m not going to peer pressure you. Aside from the pressure that was already, erm, pressed? So what are you drinking?

A Manhattan. I’m an old man.

I liked those. Makes you feel sophisticated.

He noted the past tense. Do you not drink?

She shook her head. I don’t.

He waited for more, but she didn’t offer it, so he changed the subject. Check this out. He pulled up the photos he’d taken of her.

Gasping, she snatched the phone from him. These are amazing! I look like that? You need to send those to me. I’m just going to send them to myself.

Laughing at her excitement, he asked, Shall we rejoin the group?

Camila bit another cherry off its stem, then fixed one of those capital-L Looks on him. No rush.

He thought of a few things he wouldn’t want to rush through with her, but kept them to himself. They sipped their drinks in companionable silence for a bit, pretending to read the food menu.

So do you have a performance background? he asked. You really were something else.

God no, she said. I’m just, hmm, dramatic, you might say. I’ve always loved attention.

He quirked a brow. I think I need more examples.

She laughed. OK, here’s one. But you can’t make fun of me, OK?

I would never, he said.

She tapped a few icons on her phone and turned it toward him. There was a feed of thumbnails of her face. He recognized the app. He wasted plenty of time scrolling through one-minute videos of comedians and cute dogs, though he’d never actually made an account to like any videos.

What are these about?

Mental health, pretty much. I’m a therapist. I give advice and coping strategies. Sometimes they’re funny, or so I’ve been told.

He opened the app on his phone and made an account. Following.

Ugh, that’s way too kind. I don’t have many followers.

That’s only because you haven’t mastered the algorithm, Era said, appearing between them. Hey, help me convince Ivy to do ‘Barbie Girl’ with us.

You know she could break me in half, right? And she would sooner die than get up there.

Weeeell, I guess I could sing ‘Tubthumping’ again…

Camila slammed her Shirley Temple on the bar. Sweet Jesus, no!

I’ll do it, Zach said. What the hell. He downed the rest of his Manhattan.

Era pumped her elbow like the Success Kid meme. Avengers Assemble!

She pulled up the music video on her phone while a guy in a Steelers jersey belted out Don’t Stop Believin’ so they could remind themselves of how the song went. The candy-colored music video took Zach way back.

If I’d known we were going to perform this, I would have brought my Ariana Grande ponytail wig, Zach deadpanned.

Camila laughed. The sound thrilled him. He wanted to make her do that again, to search for whatever button made that sound come out.

He ordered a shot of Jack for courage and downed it before they walked on stage. He still wanted to puke as he stood to Camila’s left, facing a club full of people in various stages of drunkenness. Camila and Era nailed the female verses, alternating seamlessly with little more than a look and hand choreography. Zach held his own fairly well with the guy verses, singing a little lower than his usual register and trying to match the original singer’s energy.

When he urged Barbie to come party with him, Camila danced over to stand in front of him, looking over her shoulder at him for the call and response. The words ah and yeah had never sounded so erotic.

He’d almost forgotten they were on stage and done something to embarrass himself, like put his arm around her waist, until Camila and Era moved to flank him, he sang his last line, and the women sang theirs in unison, proclaiming their affection for Ken. They finished by blowing kisses in his direction. He pretended to catch them above his head and put them in his pocket.

They struck poses at the end of the song, Ivy and Seth riotously cheering them on.

Camila threw her arms around Zach. You were amazing! That was so fun.

He wanted to bask in her praise, in this unexpected embrace. But instead, he patted her shoulders awkwardly. Nah, that was all you, he said. And Era, of course. He pulled away.

Back at their table, their friends had been joined by a thin, bearded man in a leather jacket. Ivy’s boyfriend, maybe?

Good song, the man said in an English accent that Zach might have found a bit sexy. Camila’s choice?

Camila had just given him an air kiss on the cheek but was now giving him the stink-eye. Era’s. Hey, this is our new friend, Zach.

Hey. Zach Hoult.

Liam Moore, the Brit said, shaking his hand quite firmly.

Moore? Zach asked. Same as Camila? It was a common last name, but for a second he wondered if they were related somehow, though they looked nothing alike and there was that accent.

Well, I had it first before she took it, Liam said nonchalantly.

Zach’s world cracked right down the middle.

Shut the hell up, Camila said. Just all the way up, Liam. Camila must have read the confusion on Zach’s face. Liam is my ex-husband. We are happily divorced.

So, so happily divorced, Liam added. He put his chin in his hands and gazed with adoration at Camila, who punched him in the shoulder. He pretended to recoil in pain at the gentle tap.

Liam and Camila are divorced and still besties, Ivy said, singing the last word into her drink and avoiding everyone’s eyes.

Camila shook her head at Zach before responding. Ivy, you and Era are my best friends. Liam is just my … witch’s familiar.

And we didn’t speak for two years.

Skeptical, Camila asked, Was it really that long? Couldn’t have been.

"Might have been three years, in