Chapter 4
REAL
Even before noon, it’s hot as balls outside. The instant we step out of the hotel, sweat beads on my skin.
“Damn, I’m glad we’re going to go jump in the ocean,” Flynn says as if reading my mind. He grabs the front of his tank top and pulls it away from his skin to get some ventilation.
“Say what you will about New York winters, but I’ll take them over southern summers any day.”
We walk down the path that leads from the hotel to the road, avoiding the pool area this morning. The snorkeling spot is a little cove at the bottom tip of the island, which isn’t far from the hotel at all.
As we stroll down the street, Flynn surprises me by reaching for my hand, just like he did on the beach last night. His skin is hot against mine, his palms roughly calloused compared to my own.
“Tell me the best thing that has happened to you in the past fifteen years,” I prompt, desperate to fill in all the blanks of the time I missed with my best friend.
“The best thing?” he repeats, sounding skeptical. “I got a free sandwich with one of those loyalty card deals.”
“Dude, come on,” I say with a laugh.
“What? It was a good sandwich,” he defends.
“I don’t know. There haven’t been a lot of standout moments, honestly.
I finished high school, moved to New York, got a job at the gym, and have basically just been existing since then.
Truly, the best thing that’s happened to me in the past fifteen years was spotting you on the ferry…
or maybe it was working up the balls to kiss you last night. ”
My stomach jolts and my heart flails. I reflexively tighten my fingers against his. Is he for real? I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, trying to see if there’s any hint of teasing in his expression, but find none.
“Those were my best things too,” I admit.
“Oh, come on. You have your dream job. You travel the world. I’m sure you’ve had a lot of amazing moments.”
“I have.” I’m not going to deny that. My love life has been a sad joke, but the rest of my life since high school has been pretty fucking cool. “But running into you again is still the best.”
A sweet smile that I haven’t seen before spreads over his lips. It’s different from his cocky smile or his teasing smile, it’s almost too pure to be on the face of a big bear of a man like Flynn, but it’s also unbearably perfect.
“Hey, look at that,” he says, something catching his attention.
He jerks his chin toward someone in the distance who seems to be up on a ladder painting a sign.
As we get closer, it looks like it’s our waiter from last night, Hennessy.
He’s dressed in beachwear, a large paintbrush in one hand and a can of paint hanging from the ladder.
He’s touching up a hand-painted sign that reads Fuck Easy.
“Fuck easy?” I read aloud as we walk past. “What do you think that means?”
“Maybe it’s inspirational like don’t take the easy way out?” Flynn guesses.
“Or maybe it’s like fuck easily, be a slut,” I suggest, and he laughs.
“Definitely possible.”
When we reach the snorkeling cove, the beach is surprisingly quiet.
I guess most people don’t come to Hand Job Island to look at sea creatures.
We’re greeted by the same man I saw on the pier yesterday taunting Boston.
He’s wearing a wetsuit, the top unzipped and hanging loose around his waist. His long brown hair is slicked back and wet, a relaxed smile on his lips as he offers us each a hand to shake.
“Welcome to Turtle Fuck Cove. I’m Trick. What can I do for you?”
Flynn and I share a look. There are so many things to unpack about that sentence, I’m not sure where to start.
“We wanted to snorkel,” Flynn says.
“In that case, you came to the right place. If you step right this way, I’ll get you set up with some equipment and a list of rules and shit.
” He gestures toward the brightly painted stand a few feet away.
A golf cart parked next to it is decorated with Christmas decor of all things—evergreen garlands, ornaments, a few Santa figurines haphazardly attached.
There’s even a large, plastic Rudolph on the roof.
We follow him over to the booth, and he gets to work piling goggles, snorkels, and flippers onto the counter before launching into a rundown of instructions and rules we need to follow. I can’t believe you can’t take any fish with you is actually a rule.
Halfway through the long spiel, he looks up, and his entire expression changes. It goes from relaxed and friendly to calculating. He turns a flirtatious smile on me, leaning forward to bring us closer.
“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your lips are?”
“What?” I blink in confusion, and Flynn growls, putting an arm around me.
“Trick,” a voice shouts from behind me. I turn to see Boston pulling up on an equally ridiculously decorated golf cart.
His is adorned with plastic flamingos, several lawn flamingos bobbing on the roof from the impact of the quick stop.
He hops out of the vehicle and strides across the beach with a thunderous expression on his face.
“Just when I think you can’t stoop any fucking lower. ”
“Boston, sweetheart, I’m with customers,” he says in a sweet, taunting sort of voice, which only seems to make the other man angrier.
He bares his teeth, clenching his jaw and snorting through his nose like a bull.
It’s terrifying and a little hot at the same time.
I lean a little closer to Flynn, pretty sure I don’t want to be in the middle of a fistfight between these two.
“Right,” he scoffs, turning his attention to Flynn. “Watch your man. This prick will fuck anything that isn’t nailed down just for the sport of it.”
“Nailed down can help, actually. Doesn’t move as much when I really get into it,” Trick taunts.
“Perfect. While you’re at it, why don’t you go fuck yourself then and leave at least one goddamn tourist for the rest of us.”
He storms off as quickly as he came, leaving an awkward silence hanging between the three of us.
“Sorry about that beautiful lips thing,” Trick mutters after a few tense seconds. “I’d explain myself, but it would probably take a therapist to make sense of my own special brand of fucked up. But I promise, nailed down or not, I’m not trying to get into your pants.”
I’m not sure if I should be offended or relieved, so I settle for grabbing the equipment off the counter and nudging Flynn toward the ocean.
FLYNN
Not gonna lie. Real looks cute as fuck when he puts the big goggles and other snorkeling gear on. I was one hundred percent ready to throw down if Trick thought he could move in and snatch him away from me. I’m not usually the jealous type, but Real is mine. That’s just the way it is.
“Last one in is a rotten egg,” he taunts, awkwardly waddling toward the ocean, his flippers catching on the sand and weighing him down before he splashes right in.
I follow behind him, feeling light and happy in a way I haven’t in fifteen years.
I knew I missed him, but I don’t think I realized how much.
When I woke up this morning with memories of last night consuming my every thought and the promise of spending all day with him, I couldn’t stop smiling.
Not just smiling either. I actually fucking whistled while I got dressed and made my way down to the hotel lobby to meet Real for the continental breakfast.
I charge into the water, diving face-first as soon as I’m waist-deep. Real already has a head start, swimming a few feet ahead with his face under the surface so he can see all of the sea creatures floating around us.
It’s not as bright and vibrant as I’m sure the Great Barrier Reef is—which no doubt Real has been to, based on all the stories of his travels he told me about on the shuttle bus—but it certainly has its own charm.
Various fish dart around us, large round jellyfish joining them.
Trick already told us that there would be cannonball jellyfish and not to worry because they aren’t dangerous.
A horseshoe crab creeps along the bottom, looking eerie in the murky depths.
Real swims over to me and taps me on the shoulder. I pop up from the water, and he points into the distance.
“Look, look, look.”
It takes me a second to see what he’s pointing at, but a little way out, a dolphin breaches the surface of the water, and then another, and another.
“That’s so cool.”
We float and watch them for a minute or two.
They don’t pay us any mind, not getting any closer than the few dozen feet or so they are away.
Real’s legs bump against mine under the water, and I can’t stop myself from reaching for him, dragging him closer and shamelessly stealing a kiss.
His lips taste like saltwater as he smiles against my mouth, wrapping his arms around my neck and kissing me back.
“Oh my god, something just touched me,” he gasps and then laughs. “Maybe it was one of those turtles that uses this beach to fuck.”
“Or the corpse of Harry Telephone,” I suggest, and he squeals, wiggling away.
“It’s way less creepy to actually see what’s touching my legs.” He puts the snorkel back into his mouth and dips under the water again.
We spend an hour or so enjoying the water and all of the various creatures we’re able to spot. When we slosh back out of the ocean to return our gear, my stomach is growling and I’m ready for a nap…preferably after taking Real back to my hotel room and sharing a shower.
“Have fun?” Trick asks.
“It was great,” Real says. “Thanks for everything.”
“That’s my job,” he says with a big grin. “And if you guys are looking for any other unique things to do on the island, be sure to check out the rainbow carousel.”
“I didn’t see that in the brochure. What is it?” Real asks.
“The brochure focuses mainly on the sex angle of the island,” Trick explains.
“Harold Tellinson built it for his partner, George, as an anniversary present. It’s old as fuck, so it only runs about half the time, but local legend says the carousel can reveal your one true love.
” He grins and waggles his eyebrows while I fail to hold in a disbelieving snort.
“That’s kind of romantic,” Real says wistfully.
“A rusty carousel can’t tell you who your soulmate is,” I argue.
“It can if it’s magic,” he says, and Trick points to him as if he makes a good point.
“Don’t discount island magic or the power of true love.”
“Ghost love,” I say skeptically.
“Harold loved love,” Trick explains.
“So we’ve heard.” I grab Real’s hand again, both our skin pruned from our time in the water.
It’s not like I’m a cynical love-Grinch.
I’m just not so sure about all this ghost or magic stuff.
What I am sure about is that I’m starving.
I lean down close to Real’s ear and whisper, “Forget the carousel, come back to my room for a shower and some room service, and I’m sure I can find something for you to ride. ”
He puts on a faux-scandalized expression. “You, sir, are filthy.”
I grin. “So, is that a yes?”