“It’s a rugby injury,” he clarifies. “Stop making me sound like I’m an eighty-year-old man with sciatica.”
“You’re the one who brings it up.”
“I complained about it one time. When you made me sleep on the floor, which was completely made of rock, I’d like to add.”
Vanessa waves her hand, dismissing him, and I can’t help but find it cute, the way they bicker like an old married couple.
“Here, try this on,” Vanessa orders, shoving an outfit into my arms. There’s a silky green top and a pair of khaki dress shorts—definitely not my vibe or color palette but I can tell they’re expensive by the feel of the fabric.
“I couldn’t,” I argue.
“Please. I’m a notorious over-packer.”
“It’s true,” Adrian adds. “I don’t think we’ve gone anywhere without her bringing multiple bags even for overnight trips.”
“It’s called having options,” Vanessa clarifies.
“I’m glad you don’t have that outlook on boyfriends.”
“Luckily you never go out of season,” she replies, ushering me towards their bathroom. “Go try it on. I want to see.”
“I’m pretty gross right now,” I say, not wanting to soil her clothes if they don’t fit. “I should probably shower first.”
“Use ours,” she offers. “Everyone else seems to be.”
Not having to go back to my room feels like a gift from the universe, but I also don’t want to overstep. “You sure that’s not weird?”
“How many times did I vomit in your trash can in college?”
“A few,” I chuckle, thinking back to those college nights.
“Exactly, so I think it’s totally fair for you to use my shower. Just be sure you’re wearing that outfit when you come out.”
Giving in, I go inside and take a minute to appreciate how easy it is to pick up where we left off.
I spend seven glorious minutes ridding myself of the grime, sweat, and emotional damage with Vanessa’s travel-sized gels and conditioners. Freshly scrubbed and scented and wearing her clothes, I step out of the bathroom feeling like a completely new woman.The silky top is cool against my skin and the shorts are breezy and lightweight. I want to live in this outfit for the rest of the week.
“It’s perfect,” Vanessa coos, giving me a once-over.
“You were right. This is so much better than jeans.”
“And that’s why I packed you a few other things too,” she says, handing me a tote bag full of clothes. “This should get you through the rest of the week.”
“This is too much.”
“It’s nothing,” Vanessa says, coming over to pull the tag off the top. “Perks of having two sisters. Anything they forget to return they pass along to me. I’m glad to see it get worn.”
“Well, I appreciate it.”
“No worries. Now, let’s go eat.”
11 Mira
The Activity Center is bustling with people. Wedding guests and tourists mill about, creating a hodgepodge of dry-clean-only attire and neon-colored nylon. Most of Meredith and Grant’s guests are taking refuge under the café awning, antsy to get to our destination.
Vanessa and Adrian are finishing up the story of how they met in Ireland. Their comments are perfectly timed as they recount their adorable meet-cute, before they turn their attention to me.
“Are you dating anyone?”
