84 HOURS EARLIER
GENESIS
Holden sets his empty beer bottle in the sand, next to his towel. “Why isn’t there anything to do here?” he demands, shooting an irritated look at Nico over me, Pen, and Neda. “I thought there’d be more ... recreation.”
“There’s cornhole,” Nico suggests. “Or Frisbee. Or swimming. Or soccer. Or cards. Orconversation.” But I can tell from the sardonic upturn of one side of his mouth that he knows exactly what Holden means by “recreation.”
My boyfriend knows Nico snuck something into the park, but his pride won’t let him ask for a hit from the guy he caught kissing his girlfriend.
I haven’t told him I have a joint tucked into my tampon case because I’d much rather watch this social experiment unfold.
“Why don’t you guys go snorkeling?” Neda says.
I laugh. “Holden won’t—”
“What, and mess up his hair?” Nico quips.
“That’s a great idea.” Penelope stands and holds onehand out to Holden. “Come snorkel with me.”
To my surprise, he lets her pull him to his feet, then digs my snorkeling gear from my bag. Halfway down the beach, she snatches his mask and he chases her all the way into the water.
“Look!” Neda sits up on her towel, and I follow her gaze to see that two men with drums and marimbas have pulled plastic chairs from the restaurant onto the sand. They begin improvising a lively rhythm, and a small crowd gathers. “What’s that?” Neda asks when a woman joins them with a small wooden flute.
“It’s called agaita,” Nico tells her as the first playful, airy notes mix with the marimba’s melody.
The crowd grows, and people start dancing. The beat is infectious.
“Come on!” I pull Neda off her towel. She, Nico, and I head down to the spontaneous party, and I’m dancing before I even join the crowd. I can’t help it. The sand is warm beneath my feet and the ocean breeze cools my skin. This place is the heart of Colombia. It’s still a part of my father, even if he won’t admit it. And now it’s a part of me.
Neda, Nico, and I dance in a cluster, laughing and lost in the rhythm. The setting sun paints my shadow on the sand.
I don’t see Holden and Penelope, but Maddie’s laughing and drinking with two guys at one of the tables.
She’s finally remembered how to have fun.
“Hey!” Penelope slides into the circle next to me. “The water’s amazing! You should go in!”
“I will later. Where’s Holden?” The crowd has doubled since we arrived this afternoon. So much for our exclusive retreat.
“He found some like-minded individuals.” Penelope points across the beach, and in the dying light from the setting sun, I see my very high boyfriend clutching a fresh beer as he tosses beanbags with half a dozen guys who seem to be enjoying cornhole with more enthusiasm than it deserves.
“You want to get a drink?” I ask, and when Pen nods, we duck out of the crowd.
Penelope groans over the length of the line at the bar, but my gaze has snagged on a guy at the front, waiting for whatever he’s ordered. Light beard scruff outlines his strong jaw. A narrow-brimmed straw hat blocks the setting sun from his hazel eyes.
The bartender sets an unopened beer and two bright red cocktails garnished with slices of starfruit on the bar. The guy in the hat slides the beer into a pocket of his cargo shorts, then takes both plastic cups. He stops in front of us, on his way to the beach.
“I over-ordered.” The tilt of his smile mirrors the angle of his hat brim. “Could you two could help me out with these?” He holds up the cocktails.
Penelope’s hesitation is no surprise. Until she retired from gymnastics, she didn’t have time for a social life, and she’s still behind the curve in experience. In fact, Holden is the only guy she seems truly comfortable with.
Which makes her the perfect wingman. She knowswhen to bow out and is willing to keep my boyfriend company.
“Happy to help.” I take the drinks and hand one to Pen.
“Thanks.” She takes a sip.
“Wait, I did that wrong.” The guy in the hat takes the drink from me and turns to Pen. “These are both for you.”
