CHAPTER NINETEEN
REECE
Shell-Shockingly Good in Bed is splashed across my chest in blinding neon green, along with two turtles mid-hump like no ones watching. Their goofy little turtle mouths curved up in pure bliss. I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and shake my head. When did I become such a fucking masochist?
Since her, thats when.
The second I saw it in the gift shop, I had to buy itit reminded me of Cam spotting that sea turtle, her eyes huge behind her snorkel mask, flippers kicking with childlike excitement, her hand squeezing mine in the warm tropical water.
Congratulations, Dare. Youve officially hit rock bottom, I tell my reflection. Youre wearing turtle porn to a business meeting.
I splash cold water on my face, hoping itll shock some sense into me. It doesnt. Cool liquid drips down my chin as I grip the edges of the marble sink. I glance at the scrunchieneon pink and way too brightstill wrapped around my wrist like Im a lovesick teenager.
Its the same one she used last night when I fucked her tits. Jesus. Was that really just hours ago? When I thought that maybe, just maybe, we had something real?
Christ, Im pathetic.
With a growl of frustration, I yank it off, the elastic snapping against my skin. For a moment, I hold it between my fingers, remembering how she gathered her hair up right before
Fuck this and fuck her. I toss it into the trash can with enough force to rattle the metal bin.
It lands on a pile of crumpled resort stationery and tissues, a bright spot of color in the garbage. Its a magnet, pulling my gaze. Three seconds pass. Four. Five.
Shit. I guess its fuck me. I bend down, fishing it out. What is wrong with me?
I slide it back onto my wrist, hating myself a little more.
Get your shit together. Youre the boss. Act like it.
But the mirror reveals who I truly am: a man who, just this morning, had his heart yanked out through his asshole.
I should be plotting my comeback video, my why Camila Morales is dead to me speech. She lied. She played me. She did exactly what every other person in my life has doneused me.
Fame is a fancy word for everyone wants a piece of you. My followers crave entertainment. My sponsors expect profit. My manager demands his cut. My ex-fiance chased clout. And Cam? She wanted my platform. My influence. My ability to catapult her little documentary channel into the stratosphere.
I just wanted her .
Straightening my shoulders, I push through the door into the adjoining conference room, instantly hit by the artificial chill of resort air conditioning. Its a corporate war zone nowan oversized black table dominating the center, leather chairs lined up like soldiers awaiting orders, tropical paintings on the walls trying hard to remind us were in paradise.
Another scandal. Another viral disaster. Another day in the life of Reece Dare.
Im so fucking exhausted.
I collapse into the chair at the head of the table, slumping so low my ass nearly slides off the edge. At the other end, a massive screen waits to be filled with the people who will determine how to salvage my career from the smoking crater Cam and Astrid left behind.
Gordon paces in tight circles, his designer shoes clicking a staccato rhythm on the gleaming floor. Those absurd Italian leather lifts add a good three inches to his height, giving him the perpetual look of a guy about to face-plant.
Listen here, he snaps at the resort employee trying to set up our video call. Gordons eyes narrow at the guys name tag. Kais Best Friendis that your real name? Never mind. I need this up and running in the next ten minutes. I dont know how they do things in whatever protein-shake-fueled fantasy you stepped out of, but at G-Thorne Enterprises, we execute. We succeed. We do not let the screen display a goddamn error message. Fix it.
Im very sorry, sir, he stammers. Our tech team is
Fix it. I dont care if you have to sacrifice a virgin to the Wi-Fi gods. Make. It. Work.
The guy scurries away as Gordon continues his phone tirade.
This is code red. Everyone on that list needs to be in front of their computers in ten minutes, or I start collecting LinkedIn profiles. Clear?
He glances over at me, covering the phone briefly. Sorry about this clusterfuck, kid. When I flew in this morning, they promised state-of-the-art facilities.
I offer a halfhearted thumbs-up, but its wasted effort. Gordons already on to his next call.
Shouldnt I feel something?
Adrenaline, anger, or at least a flicker of indignation thatonce againIm about to be roasted like a marshmallow over the bonfire of internet outrage.
But theres nothing. Im coming up empty.
Gordon catches his reflection in the glass wall, zeroes in on a poppy seed stuck in his veneers. Reece, you good? Im gonna get camera-ready. Back in five. He disappears into the adjoining bathroom, shouting, No comment means no fucking comment, dipshit. Now put your boss on the phone before I take the next flight out and become your personal nightmare.
I can feel the stress ulcer building in my stomach again, a slow-growing, fury-fueled tumor. I try to remind myself of my survival mantrathe one thats kept me from losing my shit all these years:
Keep smiling. Stay relevant. Dont let them see you crack.
Its not working.
The meeting room door swings open, and Blaze shuffles inless a human tornado, more a slow, dejected trudge. His bleach blonde hair is flat on one side like he slept on it wet, and his signature tank top has been replaced with a wrinkled Hawaiian shirt missing two buttons. Even his go-to grin is MIA.
Blaze flops into the chair next to mine, Hey, bro, he sighs.
Oh shit. This is serious.
Hey, I sigh back. Then my grief-clouded mind splits wide open. Waitwhat the hell are you doing here?
G-Thorne told me all hands. Its DareDuo 2.0. He attempts a fist pump that gives up halfway, his arm dropping limply back to the armrest.
Of course he did.
Thats how Gordon operatestelling literally everyone except me whats happening in my own fucking life. Want to know the plan for your career? Sorry, thats need-to-know, and the actual human whose face is on the merch doesnt need to know.
Im so fucking sick of it.
Uh Reece. Im really sorry, man.
Did you accidentally torch something valuable again?
He exhales hard. Astrid and I filmed our breakup video last night. She said our relationship had run its promotional course.
Classic Astridchew em up, spit em out, then monetize the tooth marks.
I had to cry on command while she announced her new lip plumper line.
He attempts to demonstrate his cry face, scrunching up his features and resembling a constipated bulldog.
She kept saying More tears, Blazey! My followers need authenticity! And after we filmed it, I felt weird. So I was wandering around the resort, and my insides felt shittyya know, like someone had stolen my favorite surfboard. And I was thinking, um, maybe she just needed space? Maybe we could still work things out?
Oh no. I am familiar with that particular tone. Its Blazes I-have-a-brilliant-idea-thats-actually-a-terrible-idea voicethe same one that preceded the Great Wasabi Challenge of 2019, which ended with a trip to the ER, a very angry Japanese chef, and a lifetime ban from Benihana.
I figured I could surprise her, right? Go all out! I got Kai to hook me up with the full romance packageflowers, penis-shaped candles, anal beads
Please skip to the end.
Right. So Im filming the whole thing. Recording my heartfelt speech about how were meant to be together and how her lip plumper makes me want to kiss her, even though it tastes like gasoline.
Hes sitting up straighter now, his hands animating the story with characteristic windmill-like gestures.
I decided to parkour up to our balcony to be romantic and shit. But there she wasgetting smashed like a piata by another dude. And thats when it hit me. What I did to you was fucked up.
Dude! Thats when it hit you? I keep silent.
Blaze holds my gaze, genuine regret in his eyes. I shouldve asked if you were cool with Astrid and me goin to pound town. I totally thought it was all, like, staged for views or whatever. But watching her move on from me that fastliterally hours after our emotional breakup videoI finally get it. I messed up. Big-time. Like, I dropped-my-phone-in-the-toilet kind of messed up. Im really fucking sorry, man.
The apology catches me off guard, hitting me like an unexpected left hook.
In our decades-long friendship, Blaze has broken my possessions, several of my bones, and once, my grandmas antique vase that apparently contained her ashes. But this is the first time hes come close to breaking our friendshipand the only time Ive seen him genuinely remorseful.
I reach over, clasping his shoulder firmly. Thanks, I say, meaning it. Were cool.
So the DareDuo is back?
DareDuo is best bros forever, I confirm, the words unlocking something tight in my chest. At least I still have thisa friendship that predates the fame, the brand, the absolute circus my life has become.
Blazes face breaks into that familiar goofy grin as he launches himself at me, pulling me into a hug so tight its painful. I endure it, giving him an awkward pat on the back before extracting myself from his bear hug.
Wheres Cam? he asks, eyeing the corner of the room as if her five-foot-four-inch body is hiding behind a twelve-inch potted plant. I thought you two were, like, sex friends. He waggles his eyebrows.
The brief moment of normalcy shatters. The hot-pink scrunchie on my wrist suddenly feels as if its made of lead.
Youre not the only heartbroken idiot at this table.
Ten minutes later, the blue error message finally disappears, and theres a wall of faces that are making up the worlds most depressing Zoom meeting. Twenty different people stare back at me, each tiny window a peek into a different flavor of the corporate world.
Some sit in sleek office settings with tasteful art, as if theyre ready to go on CNN. Others are clearly on vacation, squinting against the tropical sun or sipping coffee on a European balcony. Then there are the true victimsrumpled, dead-eyed, looking like they were dragged from their beds with disheveled hair that screams, What ungodly hour is it?
I clear my throat, sitting up in my chair. Thank you everyone for coming on such short noti
Lets get down to business, Gordon cuts me off. Tell Reece what has happened to sales overnight.
The first face to enlarge belongs to Marcus, the head of DareProductions. Behind him, an office wall covered in film equipment and framed YouTube Play Buttons serves as a reminder of better days.
Weve had three sponsors pull out of branded content, he says, his voice tight. BeastMode Barbells, TripleX Protein, and FearLess Sunglasses all terminated their contracts this morning, not wanting to be attached to the scandal. Without that revenue He swallows hard. We dont have enough projects to sustain our current staff. Layoffs are inevitable unless we can find replacement sponsors immediately.
My gut churns at the word layoffs. DareProductions alone employs forty-seven peopleeditors, camera operators, production assistants, all with families and mortgages that depend on my videos getting views and my face selling products.
The screen shifts to Vanessa, the impeccably dressed head of DareWear, who appears to be sitting on a luxury yacht. Her designer sunglasses are perched on her head, and the sparkling Mediterranean Sea appears to be mocking our collective misery.
I was on a call with the DareWear factory, she says with crimson lips pressed into a tight line. Orders have dropped by fifty percent overnight. On top of that, weve already invested heavily in the new DareLove line following your waterfall kiss with Camila. She pauses, letting the words sink in. Its most likely a loss in the millions unless we can turn public opinion around immediately.
The screen shifts again to Derek, head of DareFuel, whos in his kitchen. His usual polished appearance has been replaced by a rumpled T-shirt and a bad case of bedhead.
DareFuel has the same problem with the new couples flavors we were rushing to market, he explains, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Production is already underway for Love Potion Peach and Coconut Kiss. Weve invested
Daddy! I have to go poo-poo!
A tiny tornado in princess pajamas crashes into the frame, clutching a well-loved teddy bear. Her pigtails are askew, one significantly higher than the other, and her face bears the remnants of what might be chocolate milk.
Can we PLEASE keep your offspring out of this CRISIS MEETING?! Gordon explodes.
Sorry, sorry! Derek looks mortified as a lovely womanpresumably his wifedarts into the frame, scooping up the toddler.
The little girls innocent face tugs at my chesta memory of Nalani, the Akana familys daughter, clutching her stuffed turtle while standing in the doorway of their temporary housing unit. Cam captured their tragedy with grace and kindness. Her storytelling instincts turned what could have been exploitation into a powerful, deeply human moment.
That day in Lahaina had sparked a fire in mea realization about what my platform could be. What it should be. For the first time in years, Id felt a sense of purpose beyond chasing views and selling merch.
Id thought maybe Cam could be part of that vision.
I trace my thumb over the scrunchie clinging to my wristthe tiny pink elastic carrying the weight of an entire imagined future.
But that was before I knew the truth. That I was dreaming about our future together while she was calculating how to use me to launch her career.
Now Im back where I started. My companies are imploding, hundreds of jobs are at risk, and millions of dollars are disappearing by the minute. And for what? Because I was stupid enough to trust her. To think she saw me for more than my subscriber count?
been up all night securing a solution. Gordons voice snaps my focus to the nightmare at hand. A plan that will definitely pull us out of the downward spiral.
With the dramatic flourish of a magician revealing his final trick, Gordon strides to the conference room door and flings it open.
And in struts Astrid Montclair.
Her outfit is a masterclass in showing skina yellow bandage dress vacuum-sealed to her body, highlighting every surgically perfected curve, with cutouts exposing way too much spray-tanned skin. Stilettos jack her up six inches, and her red soles hit the floor like warning flares with each calculated step.
What the fuck?
Gordon pulls out the chair beside me, and she takes his hand with a smirk, her viper-like confidence radiating as she sits. G-Thorne always gives it to you straight. This isnt about Astrid, though yeah, her numbers are blowing up. Its not about camera girls takedown video, which is viral as fuck.
A sharp pang hits me thinking about all the online hate Camilas getting. Yeah, she played me, but she was only chasing what she thought mattered. Im pissed off, but no one deserves cyber hate like this. Ive been thereits brutal, even when you kinda have it coming.
Gordon claps a hand on my shoulder. This is about giving a hungry audience what they expectyou and Astrid back together. For real this time. Kid, everything weve done has led to this. Theyre shipping you two. Hashtag ASStreece has over seventy million impressions. Shes your golden ticket.
I break the internet for breakfast, she says, her baby-talk voice at odds with the calculating look in her eyes. Come on, Reece. You and me? Were social media crack.
Theres churning in my gut, and acid climbs up my throatmy body is physically rejecting the Astrid pitch. But what choice do I have? Hundreds of jobs on the line. Millions in investments. Real people with real bills.
But for some inexplicable reason, at this moment of peak desperation, I hear Cams voice in my head.
From the shuttle, driving past Lahaina: You dont ever really know if your efforts will help. But that doesnt mean you dont try. Not everything needs a million likes to make a difference.
Not everything needs a million likes to make a difference, I declare to a room full of people but mostly to myself. The truth of the words burns my tongue.
I rise to my feet, my chair scraping against the floor with a dramatic screech that perfectly punctuates this moment of clarity.
I was serious about the text I sent you last night, Gordon, I announce, my voice leveling out. Effective immediately, were changing content strategies. No more clickbait. Were focusing on giving back.
I turn to the screen, facing the grid of shocked executives directly. I want us to be a company that produces something meaningful. Its scary to switch strategies, but Ive spent the last two weeks really thinking about what mattersfor me and for everyone who depends on the Dare brand.
My pulse pounds in my ears as the words tumble out. No more fast fashion that trashes the planet. No more energy drinks loaded with chemicals no one can pronounce. No more trending bullshit. Everything we put the DARE brand on from this moment forward will be customer-focused, earth-conscious, and built with purpose.
I take a breath. Twenty stunned faces stare back at me from the monitor, in a weve-seen-this-before, this-has-to-be-a-prank expression. And then
Clapping.
Its the dad from earlier, the one who got interrupted by his daughter needing to go poo-poo. Hes sitting in his kitchen, smiling, hands coming together in steady applause.
Then someone else joins in. Then another. And suddenly, the whole screen is clapping.
Gordon, you swore this was a lock if I posted that vid. Astrids voice is a blade slicing through the applause. Seriously, what the hell is happening?
Not now, Astrid, Gordon hisses, his usually smooth face flushing red. Wrinkles, suppressed by years of cosmetic intervention, break through.
My eyes narrow. Tell me straightdid you make that deal with her? Because if thats the case youre done.
Dont threaten me, kid, he says, voice dangerous. I didnt promise Astrid anything.
Blaze lets out a long, slow whistle. Uh, thats a load of shit, G-Thorne. Youre straight-up lying.
I swivel toward him. Bro, what are you talking about?
Blaze fiddles with his phone, thumbs flying across the screen. Gordon was making all the promises when I caught him fucking Astrid last night. I got it on video, see?
He holds out his phone, and I take it with a sense of morbid curiosity. The screen shows a hotel balcony viewpresumably filmed during Blazes ill-fated romantic mission. The footage is a bit shaky, but theres no mistaking what Im seeing: a very sweaty, very hairy Gordon Thorne, his suit pants bunched around his ankles, enthusiastically banging a clearly bored Astrid.
Im gonna make you a superstar! Gordons voice echoes from the phone speaker. You and this hot ass will be bigger than Reece!
I want my own clothing line and my makeup in Sephora. She pauses. And an album.
You wanna be a singer? Gordon pants. Prove it. Scream my name.
Astrid complies with the mechanical enthusiasm of someone ordering take-out. Gordon, oh God, G-Thorne! Give it to me, Daddy Thorne!
I pause the video, making a mental note to tell Blaze later that explosive details like this need to be shared immediately.
Then all hell breaks loose.
Astrid lunges across the table like a feral cat, her talons extended. Give me that phone! she screeches. Blaze, you backstabber, delete that video!
She grabs Blazes phone, but its not a video on his phoneits a YouTube video. She lets out a bloodcurdling scream. OHMYGAAAAAAHHHHD!
Her entire face crumples in horror.
Blaze grins wide. Yeah, he says, stretching his arms above his head. I uploaded it to YouTube. #AstridScam is trending. Guess I do know how to fuck you.
She bolts like her ass is on fire, screaming loud enough to shatter glass.
I turn to Gordon, who stands frozen. Youre fired. Then I swivel back to the screen of executives, whove just witnessed what amounts to a live reality TV meltdown. All passwords are to be changed now. Gordons office is to be packed up and delivered to his home. Tell Legal to prepare for pushback if he threatens or violates his NDA. I pause, drawing a deep breath. Ill be back in LA today for an emergency meeting. I expect ideas from everyone on a new plan moving forward.
I end the call. Twenty stunned faces vanish as the screen goes black.
Gordon stares at me, jaw tight, hands clenched. I did you a favor by getting rid of camera girl and her bleeding-heart agenda. Giving back is not how successful companies are run.
You dont know until you try.
Im your rock, he counters, desperation creeping into his voice. Im the only one on your side.
Wrong, I say, feeling lighter with each passing second. Youre only on your side. Now you better go chase after Astrid, because shes your new big client starmaker.
I turn and walk the fuck out of the conference room, with Blaze bounding close behind. The door slams shut on Gordons sputtering protests.
***
The lobby doors slide open, and I barrel through like a man possessed. My heart thumps wildly, and I squeeze my phone as if Im trying to wring the truth out of it. I hit Cams number again.
Straight to voicemail.
Im probably hanging off a cliff somewhere with Reece Dare, so if Im still alive after IM DONE FILMING, Ill call you back!
I hear her voicethat sarcastic, warm, everything-I-fucking-need tone.
Camila? Where are you? Call me. Please.
The hotel lobby swirls with activityhappy tourists in flowery shirts clutching tropical drinks, bellhops pushing carts stacked with designer luggage, a newly arrived couple kissing passionately by the check-in desk.
Bro, where we goin? Blaze skids to a stop beside me.
Cam. I gotta find Cam. Lets check my room. Im already moving, dodging guests and suitcases as if theyre obstacles in one of my stunt videos.
Dude, what if shes gone? Like, whoosh, vanished like that time we tried to tame those wild lizards and they
Not helping, Blaze.
An alert pings on his phone. I found her! His face scrunches up in confusion. Whats La Hane , La Hiney ?
I snatch his phone, my eyes zeroing in on the YouTube notification.
Its Lahaina, I correct, tapping on the new video I see posted on my channel: The Truth About Lahaina, Hawaii and ME .
It starts playing and there she isCam, my Camand the sight of her hits like a harpoon to my heart. Shes filming from an airport restaurant, the CPK sign visible in the background. Dark circles shadow her eyes, which are red and swollen from crying. Her hair is piled into a scrunchie bun, and shes wearing my Save the Rhinos One Ride at a Time shirt of rhinos banging. The one I wore when we made love for the first time, under a sky full of stars.
She takes a deep breath, stares straight into the camera. I suppose I should introduce myself, although if you watch this channel, you probably already know me. Im Camila Morales. And before anyone commentsyeah, Im aware my eyes are puffy. Im not having the best day.
I want to reach through the screen and pull her into my arms. I wish I could apologize for not listening, for trusting my walls over her and not letting her explain. For being a fucking cowardagain.
You all know me as Reece Dares new girlfriend. But thats not true. I was never his real girlfriend. Our relationship was fake , only for views.
Ohhh shit, Blaze drawls.
I shush him, pressing the volume higher.
Reece works his butt off for every fan, she continues. You dont see the endless planning, the safety checks, the sleepless editsall for those ten minutes that make you smile. Hes got true integrity, pushing through exhaustion not only for you, but for his team. Three hundred people rely on him to show up, no matter what.
I cant tear my eyes away from her facefrom the sincerity etched into every feature.
Ive been a DareSquad fan since high school, she says, a faint smile on her lips. But I never knew the pressure and isolation Reece faces. The grind of being a full-time creator is brutal and leads to burnout. The internet is fickle.
Its true I wanted to start a documentary channel and hoped to get Reeces endorsement. But in Maui, I got to see a side of him fans never seehis big heart. Thats why he arranged a visit to Lahaina Town, which was ravaged by fires a year ago.
Images of Lahaina before and after play on the screen. The contrast is gut-wrenching. Front Street as it used to bevibrant storefronts, the historic, sprawling banyan tree, tourists and locals mingling together. Then comes blackened foundations, skeletal buildings, and the scorched tree somehow still standing.
A fan asked Reece if there was a way he could help, she says, and the video cuts to Keonis hopeful expression. Now, Im asking you, the DareSquad, to rise to the challenge. Lets show Reece that theres more to his impact than just stunts and pranks. Together, we can help him help others.
Holy shit, I whisper, and I swear my heart is swelling to twice its normal size.
Out of nowhere, Kai places a steadying palm on my shoulder, his usual unsettling presence offering me a strange comfort.
The warrior goddess fights for your honor as her heart bleeds, he intones softly. Such is the rarest form of devotionthat which gives without expectation of return.
I was going to post this video on my new channel, but it can do so much more good for the people of Lahaina if the DareSquad sees it and stands up for something meaningfulnot another scandal.
Her words are a wrecking ball to my chest. She gave up her own opportunityher chance to launch her dreamto help these people. To help me.
Ive added a donate button to help Lahaina families rebuild, she says, leaning in. I dare you all to contribute, even a dollar. Every bit counts. Together, we can make a difference, just like hitting a million likesone click at a time.
Pride surges through me. This womanthis incredibly brilliant, passionate, take-no-shit angelis fighting for a cause that matters. Shes turned a personal disaster into a chance to help others. Shes showing me the way, embodying everything I was too scared to embrace.
One more thing. Im sorry, Reece, for not telling you how I felt. I never expected this trip to change me, no clue Id feel She pauses, her hazel eyes drowning in emotion. A tear escapes, cutting a path down her cheek. I wouldve said yes.
The world stops spinning.
She wouldve said yes. To being my girlfriend. To being mine, for real.
The video cuts away to footage of Lahaina: the Akana family standing outside their temporary shelter, and the interview where they shared their struggles with losing everything.
The views skyrocket before my eyes.
Ten million.
Fifteen million.
Twenty-three million.
The comments flood in:
Help Reece Help Lahaina! #DareToRebuild.
Just donated $50! Who can match me?
#Dare4Change.
This is why Reece is the GOAT! Always helping others!
I donated my coffee money for the month! Worth it!
THIS is the content we neednot drama, but ACTUAL HELP!
A donation counter ticks up in at the bottom of the screen.
One million.
No.
One point two million.
No.
One point five million.
And climbing.
I turn, scanning the resort lobby.
Every single personhotel staff, guests, tourists fresh from the pool, everyoneis watching Cams video on their phones.
A guy in a Tommy Bahama shirt is frantically tapping his screen. Babe, I donated. I dare you to match me.
His girlfriend slaps his arm. Double it.
Shes rallied your army, Kai says with admiration. The DareSquad marches not for entertainment, but for purpose.
And now shes gone.
Jesus Christ, Im a fucking idiot.
Cam is at the airport, probably booked a one-way ticket as far away from me as humanly possible.
My breath comes too fast, too shallow, like my body cant catch up to my stupidity. I rake my hand through my hair, replaying every single goddamn moment I was a total dick to her.
And wow, there are so many.
I shouldve trusted her. Trusted her heart.
But no. Instead, I had to spiral and assume the worst. Assume she was the same as everyone elsea user. Cam is different.
She always has been.
Kai, do you know anything about her flight? I ask.
He shakes his head. No. I only arranged her ride to the airport.
I whirl on Blaze. Go to valet. Get my car.
He dashes off without a word.
I turn back to Kai, a sudden certainty rising within me.
I AM going to help the Akanas and the other families from Lahaina, I say, my voice steadier than its been all day. I promise you, Im going to financially match every contribution my followers make. Dollar for dollar.
Kai beams. May I hug you? He opens his arms. I take in his sarong-wearing, oily, muscled torso. A true warriors bond is forged in embrace.
I sigh. Fuck it. Why not.
Kai wraps me up in a full-body, rib-crushing hold.
And yep. Thats Kais dick.
I stiffen (not like that).
Mmmmm, Kai hums contentedly. We have finally merged our sacred energies, my virile friend.
I immediately wrangle free, taking several comforting steps back.
Kai smiles like he won a game I didnt know we were playing.
You are welcome at Aloha Amour anytime, Reece Dare.
Im already backing toward the exit. Cool, man. Thanks. I mean it. But I gotta go.
Outside, Blaze has somehow talked the valet into letting him drive my rental Porsche. I slide into the passenger seat.
To the airport, I say, buckling up as Blaze revs the engine. Lets go get Cam.
DareDuo is back! Blaze howls, cranking the radio to ear-splitting volume and peeling out of the resort.
We fishtail onto the main road, palm trees blurring on both sides, and adrenaline is pumping through me. For the first time since this whole mess started, Im not running away.
Im running toward something.
Someone.
The girl I love.
Cam.