“I guess everything can’t be perfect, even in paradise.” She laughs.
“I really miss you.” I cradle the phone in my hands like I can hug her through the air waves.
“I miss you too. Do you think you’re homesick? It sounds like you’re having fun, but you can always come home early if it feels like too much.”
“No,” I say, too fast. I hadn’t realized how certain I am until she asked. “I’m definitely going to see this through. I just wanted to chat.”
“Call any time.” Eva blows a kiss. “I’m so proud of you.”
It wasn’t the gossipy boy talk I’m craving, but I feel grounded after our chat. I try Lisa next, but it goes straight to voicemail.
I fall asleep to the croaking of tokeh lizards and the sporadic shuffling of my new friends as they drift back in from the beach.
Chapter 16
Junie
I have Monday off, but I don’t really have anything to do. All of my friends work at the sanctuary and no one is free. I could walk around the entire island in an hour, but I’m not in the mood to do it by myself. For the first time, I’m starting to feel how isolated we are here.
When I wander to the sanctuary, Victoria is giving a tour, so I sneak into the recovery room to spend some time with Jimmy. I watch him glumly through the glass; he looks bored in there. Contained. That’s what I’ve felt like these last few months—trapped. Even if the walls are made of glass, it isn’t the ocean.
I love being here on Gili Telu, and I love helping out the sanctuary and dive shop, but what’s next for me? Is it too much freedom all at once? Maybe I need some sort of temporary transition tank while I recover from the shock.
Once I’m aware of Steven’s presence in the room, I feel it all over.
“Are you up for a walkabout?” He wastes no time on introductions. He looks mouthwatering in a Colombia button down and swim shorts. At this point, I have no idea if the man even owns actual pants and I don’t care. There’s a dry bagslung over his shoulder and a hard set to his gaze that gives me butterflies.
“Sure.” I shrug like my heart isn’t racing. He slides his hand into mine and leads me outside where I blink in the bright sunshine.
He doesn’t tell me where we’re going, but we talk as we walk the well-trodden path.
“The other night was incredible,” he says and I feel my chest nearly cave in. “I just—you—” He shakes his head as if he can’t find the words. I have to squint to see him, framed by the sun. He’s hard to look at directly. “You disappeared last night.”
“I had to make a phone call.” I sidestep the truth like a broken seashell.
He nods. His face is so serious, I can barely breathe, waiting to hear whatever he’s building up to say.
“I know you’re a volunteer,” he starts. “And I know you’re only here for a month. But I’d like to get to know you. Spend time with you. I don’t just want to jump into bed. We can take things slow.”
Even though I should be internally celebrating, everything in my body resists his words. I’ve had six years of slow. A lifetime of carefully weighing my options. I want hard and fast and everything all at once.
But he’s right, of course. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us to fling our bodies together like crashing asteroids. Someone could get hurt in the fall out.
I still haven’t said much as he nudges me back toward the beach. I haven’t been to this side of the island before, and I’m impressed by the cool shade thrown by a tall rocky outcrop. Any relief from the blistering sun is a miracle. The area is moreprivate than anywhere else I’ve seen, like a hidden oasis. As he sets up a blanket on the sand and pulls a picnic lunch out of the dry bag, my heart squeezes.
“What do you think?” He avoids my eyes as he arranges the chips, fruit, white rice, and fresh vegetables. My mouth waters. I’ve been eating way too much fried rice, fried noodles, fried everything. My body craves the fresh crunch of a carrot.
“I think that’s something I could be interested in.” He’s all I’ve been thinking about for over a week, butnowI feel the need to play it cool? It must be obvious that I’m terrible at dating—I haven’t had to play this ‘will they, won’t they’ game in far too long.
What are the rules for a vacation fling? Do they change if the vacation turns into four weeks of forced proximity? Am I still on vacation? Is it a sabbatical? A mini-retirement? Am I just using these thoughts to avoid the real question at hand?
He follows my intense gaze and gestures to the food. “Help yourself,” he says as I swipe a carrot stick.
He leans over, invading my space. I swallow the carrot along with my nerves and meet his stare. It takes everything in me not to climb in his lap.
He wants to take it slow. But then his lips are on mine. Soft and warm. The slow sweep of his tongue leaves me breathless, dizzy. It should be illegal to be so good at kissing.
I can’t help the small moan that escapes my throat.
