“Um…”
“Oh my god.You little minx.What did you do?”
She cuts the shower and grabs for a towel, wrapping it around herself before she steps out.
“Just… stuff.”
Her jaw drops. “Stuff!” Her eyebrows wiggle. “Sounds scandalous.”
There’s no sense in trying to deny it. Looking back, I know it absolutelywasscandalous. Tinted windows or not, we were playing with fire in the front seat of his car. It was so unlike me to get carried away like that.
Simone’s expression sobers as she studies me. “Oh dear.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
She looks grim. “You haven’t forgotten, surely? What this is?Wherewe are?” She shakes her head with a heavy sigh. “Cristiano, Felix, Ethan… these lads aren’t looking for girlfriends.” She snorts. “Which is fine, becausewe’renot looking for boyfriends, either. These are summer flings, and when they’re doneright, they can be absolutely magic, just the thing to add a little spice to your trip. Be smart about it, though. That look you werejust wearing scared the shite out of me. You can’t go losing your heart to one of these men. They’re after a bit of fun, that’s it.”
“I know,” I insist emphatically. “I totally get that. I haven’t forgotten.”
She looks relieved. “Good. Now listen, I’ve been thinking of your list. I know you wanted to go to a proper club to check off that dance party task.NotAura, of course, but the next best thing. There’s this huge blowout on Friday night at Solaría, and since you and I are both off, I figured we could go.”
“Sounds good.” I nod, still sidetracked by the previous topic.
I could tell her Cristiano has offered to help me complete my list now, too, but I don’t want to hear her warnings about it. She’s right, after all. I need to be a little smarter about how I handle things with him. Spending a summer on an island as beautiful as Ibiza obviously has a way of filtering every experience through rose-colored glasses. Surely I can be smart, though, and have my cake and eat it, too, and when August comes and it’s time for me to pack up and visit Lita in Marseille on my way back to the States, I’ll be able to share all my stories of adventure and love without feeling any residual heartache.
With sturdy armor newly encasing my heart, I return to my room and see a new text from Cristiano waiting for me.
I’m going to come pick you up in fifteen. Wear a bathing suit.
I bite back my grin, realizing that if he’s swinging by to pick me up, he must have worked his magic to get me the day off with Hugo.
I look at the time and panic. The text arrived five minutes ago, which means I only have ten minutes to scramble before he arrives.
Simone asks if I want to go down to the cafetería, or “canteen,” as she calls it, but I tell her I have plans.
“With who?”
When I don’t answer, she laughs all the way to the door. “Don’t forget what we just discussed!”
I ignore my giddiness and nervous anticipation and get dressed as quickly as I can. Winnie purchased no shortage of swimsuits for her summer here, and I riffle through them, trying to decide which one she would want me to wear. When none of them jump out at me, I slip into a lavender two-piece with thin straps just because I love the color so much. I assume it’s going to be slightly more modest than the turquoise bikini, but once I have it on and I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, I can only laugh. Winnie was not playing around when she purchased her Ibiza wardrobe. Clearly she was going for all-out vixen, the sexier the better. I smile, thinking of how confident my sister was in her own skin. For her, everything held beauty. She never cared about the surgical scars on her chest; she never covered them up or shied away from her imperfections, and she infused that attitude in everyone around her. Be bold. Be confident.Wear the damn bikini.
I meet my gaze in the mirror, and for a terrible moment, I see Winnie’s green eyes. My gut clenches painfully. Sometimes, every now and then, the thin veil standing between daily life and upending grief will threaten to slip and fall away.
A sudden pang of sadness seizes me and I twist, twist, twist that antique ring around my finger. It’s all I can do not to slide down to the ground and drop my head into my hands. I force a steadying breath and try in vain to refocus myself in the present moment.
I still haven’t completely succeeded when I head down to thelobby of my apartment complex with my beach bag in tow. That knot in my gut still lingers, my emotions as reactive as live wires.
When I step out into the bright morning light, Cristiano is already waiting for me, leaning against the side of his car wearing navy swim trunks and a white T-shirt. A secretive smile is spread across his lips. If possible, today he’s somehow more obscenely good-looking than ever. My step falters for a moment as a terrible thought comes to mind:This is wrong—he should be waiting here for Winnie.If life were fair and everyone got exactly what they deserved, she would be the woman getting swept away by this man. I would be getting a postcard in the mail:Isabel, you are not going to believe my luck!
I’m glad for my sunglasses as I force myself to start walking again. Cristiano watches me approach, and I press up onto my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, trying to act normal.
He smells so nice I linger longer than I should, my fingers skimming his shoulders as I eventually pull away.
“Where to?” I ask tightly, already trying to slip around him and open my door.
“Espera. Wait,” he says, reaching out to cup my chin. I don’t realize I’m trembling until he turns my face back toward his. With his other hand, he lifts my sunglasses, pushing them up onto my hair, and he bends lower, face-to-face with me. It’s too close, too invasive. I can’t seem to put my mask up in time, so instead, I look down at the ground, trying to ignore the tightening in my throat as I bite down gently on the inside of my cheek.
I should have canceled. I should have realized today’s funk is worse than normal. I need time to process it before I can reconstruct my wall and go on living.
