Page 13

“Babe,” he groans, running a hand over his handsome and deeply-in-need-of-a-shave face. “I’m so sorry.”

Bringing drugs almost anywhere in Asia is a rookie error and he should have known better, but it’s hard to get mad at him when he’s just spent over a day in jail, is missing the trip, and looks so miserable. “I’ll probably forgive you,” I reply, pushing my sunglasses on top of my head. “Was it bad?”

He shrugs. “Mostly it was boring. So what am I missing?”

I turn the camera, showing him the pool with the sea behind it. “It’s amazing.”

“Cool. Now let me see the better view,” he says. “Let me look at you.”

I smile reluctantly, turning the camera back to face me.

“You’re wearing an awful lot of clothes,” he suggests.

I roll my eyes. “I’m only in a bikini. I’m also in public.”

“Go to the room and remove it for me,” he says. “I just spent a day in foreign prison. Don’t I deserve a reward?”

I wait until the waiter passes before I answer. “A reward for ditching me on a trip with your family? No. And as I recall, we had a deal about this trip: no sex, remember?”

It’s the one rule I made while giving in so easily otherwise. And I’m not sure if that extends to phone sex, but it seems like a slippery slope.

He shakes his head. “Lower the camera, at least. Let me see my second favorite things in the world.”

“What’s the first?” I reply. “I assume it’s my brain.”

“Of course not,” he says, smirking. “Not until I figure out how to get my penis in there, anyway.”

I snort laugh. That’s always been the issue with Six. He’s too damn charming to stay mad at, even when he’s, you know, awaiting trial.

And this is why he’s perfect for me: he’s just enough fun without ever being someone I might let myself trust.

9

JOSH

January 24th

I wake the next morning on the couch, realizing I’ve just heard the slam of her door. She’s so loud normally I can’t imagine how she made it that far without waking me. There’s always a thud or a squeak or a muted Oh, fuck from her room if she’s up, which I find both amusing and irritating. I dress and brush my teeth, planning to catch up with her on the road, which isn’t exactly difficult. She’s ridiculously slow.

I get downstairs and find, to my surprise, that she’s still here, stretching against a pillar near the lobby.

“Were you waiting for me?” I ask.

She jumps in shock and I place a palm on her bicep to steady her.

“Of course I wasn’t waiting,” she sniffs. She turns back to the pillar and continues to stretch. “Sometimes I like to warm up.”

She’s full of shit. She was totally waiting for me. I hate that I’m pleased by that. I’m doing this out of duty and nothing more, and she’s putting up with it because I won’t give her another option. It’s not as if we are going to be friends when this trip is over.

We run the same route as before, down past the shops and the park and on toward Diamond Head. I know she ran farther and faster the first day just to spite me, but she’s got to be the only female I know who would just keep doing it, day after day.

When we’re done, we go to the chairs by the pool again. I have no idea why she’s coming along, but hopefully she can refrain from discussing sex robots, which I’d never heard of and now can’t stop picturing.

I get her warm towels because she’s incapable of remembering to bring a sweatshirt, and soon she’s wrapped up, sipping a cappuccino and watching the sunrise beside me.

“Do you think anyone lives up there?” she asks, nodding at Diamond Head. “There’s probably palms, a pineapple tree. You could build yourself some kind of hut, live off fruit.”

I glance over at her. “Why you’d want to is the bigger question.”