NOLAN: Hmm. Alright…I have a third nipple.
CHLOE: Really?!
NOLAN: No. My mum already knows about that, so…
NOLAN: Just kidding!
NOLAN: OK, uhhhh…I’m very afraid of spiders.
CHLOE: Aren’t you Australian?
NOLAN: Not by choice!
I don’t realize I’m grinning like an idiot until I catch Sora’s quirked brow out of the corner of my eye as she glances my way.
“I wish I could find someone who made me smile likethat,” she teases, and my grin twists into a wry smirk.
“Shush. For all you know, I could have been texting a friend,” I reply, gathering my thick curls into a high ponytail at the top of my head.
“You told me you don’t have any friends other than me.”
“Well, maybe I made anewone, Sora.”
She snorts, then heads back to the unmade bed and digs around for her bag, which has been swallowed by the comforter. Once she locates it, she shrugs it over her shoulder.
“You can’t even remember the names of most of the people you meet,” Sora points out.
“It’s not that Ican’t,I just…” I struggle to find a diplomatic way to say what I’m thinking.
“Don’t want to?” Sora offers, a single brow arched.
I wince. “It feels worse when you say it out loud.”
“Right…well, hurry up, we’re going to be late.”
“Remember when you used to talk to me like I was your mentor, not your irresponsible little sister?” I quip, finishing in the bathroom and grabbing my gear bag from its perch on the desk. Sora pulls the heavy door of the stateroom open and gestures to the hallway like Vanna White.
“I don’t recall,” she replies cheerily.
With my bag strapped across my chest, I hoist the tripod leaning against the wall over my shoulder and edge past Sora, being careful not to hit her in the head.
Although maybe a mild concussion would reset her brain back to the Sora I met on the plane. She might have talked nonstop, but at leastthatSora still respected her elders.
“So, what’s the plan for the day?” I ask, as we make our way single file down the narrow hallway toward the bank of elevators, her muffled footsteps on the plush carpeting signaling that she’s still behind me.
“How do you feel about a blindfolded relay race in Barcelona? The contestants have all been told to dress up. They think they’re going to a film premiere.” Sora’s voice is bright, with a familiar note of elation vibrating in her tone, as if she’s trying not to give away how excited she is about this excursion in particular. Her enthusiasm is contagious though, and I find a slight feeling of giddiness bubbles up within me. This time, I don’t try to hide it.
“Uh—thatsounds like mykind of day.”
And for once, it actually does.
A bead of sweat clings to the tip of my nose as I steady my stance on the hot sand of Nova Icaria Beach. My camera has been perched on my shoulder now for approximately forty-five long, torturous minutes as I’ve followed Molly and Duncan from one side of the strip to the other, and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve either peed myself and didn’t realize it, or if I really am justthatsweaty inthoseplaces.
Honestly, you’d think that a three-legged race down the beach would be a simple enough task for two people, even blindfolded, as they are. Forty-five minutes seems unreasonable for a race.
But the beach is busy, with tourists and nationals alike. I mean, of course it is. There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the sun is beating down on one of the most gorgeous cities on the Mediterranean coast. Where else would you go, except the beach?
So, while Molly and Duncan may beslightlybetter at stumbling through sand while wearing a gown and tux, respectively, than the other contestants, they’re not as self-aware. Meaning that, even though the pair have bumped into nearly every slow-reacting tourist that has crossed their path, they somehow haven’t yet learned that slowing down so people have enough time to see them coming may result in less time spent falling into the sand.
