She lowers her voice. “She says she can see two teenagers making out in the outdoor hot tub from her balcony.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Teenagers. In the hot tub at ten o’clock. What could possibly go wrong?
“Did she say anything else?” I ask.
Mabree shakes her head. “She just said … heavily.”
Wonderful.
“I’ll handle it.”
Because if there’s one thing I understand, it’s teenage hormones.
I slip outside to the pool area and immediately spot them.
Two teenagers.
Kissing like they’re trying to devour each other’s face. The young lady is straddling the young man, whose hands are roaming somewhere underneath the bubbles.
I clear my throat.
They jump apart like startled deer.
The boy nearly shoots out of the hot tub like a rocket.
“Hey there,” I say calmly.
Two mortified faces stare back at me.
“We’re just going to dial that back a bit, okay?”
They nod so hard that I’m surprised their heads don’t fall off.
I gesture toward the sliding glass doors. “And maybe you two should head back to your rooms since it’s past curfew.”
The teens are all supposed to be in their rooms by nine o’clock.
“Yes, ma’am,” they mumble.
I wait for them to climb out onto the deck and dry off, then follow them back inside, smiling slightly.
Teenagers.
I remember being that age.
The emotions feel enormous. Everything feels urgent and exciting.
And while I’m certainly not the hot-tub police, I also know the chaperones would have completely lost their minds if they had caught sight of that scene.
So, I handle it discreetly.
No reports. No drama. Just a gentle reprimand.
The rest of the week continues in a blur of schedules, guest requests, and logistical puzzles.
Somehow, we make it through.
