Chapter 18
sofia
A head of bubblegum-pink hair is my only warning before I’m almost taken to the ground in a crushing hug. I barely recover my breath before another body slams into me, the scent of cinnamon and menthol wafting around us.
“God, I missed you guys,” I mumble, wrapping my arms around Amy and Charlie. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I’ve spent all morning thinking about them and the friendship we formed after I met Charlie on the SeaStar. I never had many girlfriends growing up—at least not close ones—outside of my sisters. But they are ten years younger than me.
Making friends in your twenties is a Herculean feat.
Most people have friends from high school or college, but if you’re not one of those fortunate people, it can be isolating.
I didn’t realize how lonely I was until I met them.
Add in Vivian, Mateo, Oliver, and Jett, and I have more friends than I do fingers on one hand.
That was not the case a year ago.
“I can’t believe we’re here,” Amy mutters. “Or that Charlie survived those plane rides.”
Charlie pipes up. “My therapist prescribed a heavy relaxant, and Mateo held my hand until I fell asleep. It was worth it for this. The first-class seat helped.”
“First class?” I ask. “I didn’t buy you first-class tickets.”
She doesn’t need to tell me who made that change. I peer over my shoulder to where Jett’s embracing Mateo in an enthusiastic hug. My chest tightens when he smiles, and I rip my gaze away. “I should have known,” I mutter.
Amy and Charlie release me, their bags stacked in the hotel lobby in Cairns. The air-conditioning is wonderful compared to the heat outside, and after a morning of driving through farmland and forest to get here, I’m excited to catch up with my friends.
I haven’t decided whether I’m going to tell them about my small problem regarding Jett and the space he’s carved out in my heart.
I need to decide for myself how to handle it.
Amy and Charlie will only act like an angel and devil on each shoulder, giving advice that muddles my brain until I do something stupid.
“Catch up later?” I ask when they both stifle a yawn. “I need to get some work done.”
They agree, and I check into the rooms, passing out key cards to the group. Everyone disperses—Charlie and Mateo to one room, Amy and Oliver to their own. I leave the keys for Doug and Molly at the front desk with the hotel employee, and then it’s Jett and me.
My poor wording this morning still haunts me, as does the hurt he tried to hide when he misunderstood what I was trying to say. The cassowary disrupted my apology, but the guilt still lingers hours later. I hand over his room key, nerves churning in my belly.
“I’m sorry about this morning.”
He carries our bags to the elevator. “I know,” he sighs. “You hit a soft spot. I struggled in high school, and I dropped out of college. Sometimes those insecurities rise to the surface.”
I never thought Jett would be self-conscious about those things. He’s one of the most successful people I’ve ever met, and he’s done it all on his own. Built his channel from the ground up with passion and kindness. The level of success he has would turn anybody else into a different person.
“Graduating from college doesn’t automatically make you intelligent,” I say, stepping into the small space.
The air is suffocating this close to him.
“I’ve witnessed your work ethic these last two weeks, and you are incredibly talented at what you do.
I got a glimpse into that on the research vessel, but when you run the show, your passion shines. ”
I don’t add that it’s his passion that draws me to him like a moth to a flame. I know it could burn me, getting too close, but I’m finding it harder to resist the pull. His hand grazes mine, the both of us facing forward.
Butterflies flutter up my chest, causing my throat to tighten. The touch lingers until the doors slide open. He carries my bag to my hotel door, dropping it beside me when I reach the threshold. The lock beeps and the door unlatches, but as I step inside, he catches my wrist.
“What you said,” he croaks, his voice thick, “it means a lot to me.”
He rolls his lips together, the movement pulling my traitorous gaze down. The corner of his smile twitches, and it zaps awareness over my skin. Fingers tighten on my wrist, almost imperceptibly, before he releases me.
“It’s only the truth. You have a true talent with all of this.”
“Thanks.” He taps the doorframe. “See you later.”
Even if we didn’t have plans with our friends, I would have found a way back to him somehow, using some excuse about filming or logistics to spend time with him.
He lifts his duffel over his shoulder, spinning on his heel.
The door falls shut, and he disappears from the peephole, my heart lodged in my throat.
Flutters build in my chest, a bait ball swimming faster and tighter until the emotion overwhelms me and I fall onto the bed and scream into the pillow.
How do you fix something when the person you want is the problem and the solution?
Upbeat rock music rattles through the Irish pub, which is crowded with backpackers and other tourists enjoying the live band. Amy loops an arm through mine, weaving us through the horde to the back of the bar, farthest from the stage.
“You look hot as fuck,” she says, eyes zipping along the seams of my low-cut black dress. “Heads are turning, babe.”
It only took an hour of staring at my luggage before I worked up the courage to slip on the dress Jett chose, the lace hem brushing against my mid-thigh.
A blush creeps up my neck, heating my skin. I tuck a curl behind my ear. “No they’re not.”
She lifts a brow and then jerks her head to the bar, where a man is watching us—watching me.
His perusal drips with lust, that’s clear from here.
He’s the picture of what I’ve gone for in the past. Well groomed, hair combed back, beard trimmed.
Dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. If I had to guess, he’s here for a business trip or a bachelor party.
“He’s hot,” Amy comments, and I whip my head back around, breaking the contact. “Oh, shit, he’s coming this way. I’m going to get us drinks.”
I scramble for her hand, something sour settling in my stomach. “Don’t leave me. You wanted to get here early,” I hiss.
“For this exact reason. Expand your horizons. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She pulls herself from my grip, nothing but her vanilla perfume in the wind as a reminder she was here at all.
I regret agreeing to arrive early with her.
If I had known this was an ambush, I would have nervously sat in my room, smoothing out my dress and touching up my hair until it was time to meet everyone.
The mystery man appears, and I crane my neck to meet his gaze. “I hope this isn’t too bold,” he starts, his Australian accent thick, “but you are gorgeous.”
A false smile quirks my lips. “Thank you.”
Over his shoulder, Amy grins, wiggles her eyebrows, and chucks a thumbs-up.
I’m going to kill her.
“I’m Lachlan. What do you reckon? Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, leaning lower to speak in my ear over the music.
The invasion of my space makes my skin crawl, and I thwart the urge to leap out of my seat and run away. There’s nothing inherently wrong with his actions. He’s a man at the bar, introducing himself to a woman he finds attractive.
But he’s causing me problems because he’s making one thing crystal clear: I only want one person’s attention, and he’s not here yet.
I thought I had dissolved the infatuation after completing my to-do list earlier, crossing off every item my family asked me to do, adding tickets to purchase, and creating content to boost Jett’s charity work.
Apparently, chanting “having a crush is a social construct” in the mirror does not work.
“I have a boyfriend, but I appreciate the offer.” The small lie tumbles from my lips.
His smile is kind, genuine, but it’s not Jett’s smile; it doesn’t hold that same radiance. “Lucky lad. You ladies have a nice night.”
Amy reappears, two drinks in her hand and a baffled expression. I steal one of the pink cocktails and gulp it down. The alcohol slides down my throat, and my eyelashes flutter shut as I allow the liquid to drown out the flurry of thoughts.
“Chug that drink all you want, but you’re still going to explain why you told that hottie you have a boyfriend.”
I crack one eye open. Amy leans back in her chair, stirring her straw.
“It was a lie,” I admit. “But also the truth. After the video I posted went viral and people assumed Jett was in a relationship, the buzz around his docuseries grew. I told him we should keep that going, post a few videos people could read into so that momentum would continue.”
“So it’s fake?” Disappointment drips from her question, and I don’t like it. “I can’t believe he agreed to that, honestly.”
“What, why?”
“Relationships are important to him. I’m surprised he would agree to faking something like that.
” Amy pauses, contemplating something. “He’s visited Rhode Island a few times, and we spent a lot of time together when Charlie and Mateo had to work.
He idolizes their relationship, and I know he wants something special like that for himself but has become hesitant, especially after Grace.
We have that in common.” Her voice softens. “I don’t want him to get hurt.”
Grace? Who the fuck is Grace?
I shove the thought out of my mind. I don’t care.
“Me neither,” I admit. “But I don’t think that’s going to be an issue. We’re friends.”
She laughs in a way that does not put me at ease, sipping her drink with a bemused smile. The beginning tunes of “Zombie” by The Cranberries ring through the bar, and a group of Irish backpackers belt out the lyrics.
“If you say so,” she finally says.
“I do.” I snag my glass. “I’m going to get another drink. Did you want one?”
“Is Oliver going to be here? That was rhetorical. Make it a double.”
I refuse to wade through those croc-infested waters, so I take our glasses and head to the bar, wiggling through people. The bartenders whip past, and after a few minutes, I have two vodka cranberries in hand and am twenty-five dollars poorer.
Drink prices are no joke in this country.
I spin around and nearly drop the drinks from how close Jett stands to me. I leap away on reflex, and he darts a hand out, steadying me and preventing any liquid from landing on my dress. “Fuck, you scared me.”
A rough laugh escapes me, but it fizzles while I absorb his appearance.
His hair is golden from days in the sun, pulled back and out of his face.
He wears a shirt he bought in Sydney, a short-sleeved button-down with a deep purple swirling pattern that hugs his biceps in a way that should be illegal.
But out of everything, it’s the joy alight on his face that sends a thrill down my spine and steals my breath away.
“You look incredible,” he whispers, the confession nothing more than a puff of air against my ear.
Charlie, Oliver, and Mateo appear beside him, each of them dressed for a night out on the town. Charlie in a long linen maxi dress, and Mateo and Oliver in thin button-downs and slacks.
“Oh, is that for me?” Charlie asks, stealing one of my drinks.
I let her take it, too stunned by Jett’s presence. “The other is for Amy.”
She nods, weaving through the crowd with Mateo to find her best friend. Oliver steals my spot at the bar. “I’ll get a round,” he says.
Jett follows me to the table, his hand falling to my lower back as we squeeze past a group. My heart jolts, and when we reach our friends, I slide between Charlie and Amy to get some space from him.
His brow furrows, but he’s pulled away in conversation with Mateo, animatedly sharing about my surprise and the cassowary. His voice grows more spirited the longer he speaks, and I’m sucked into the story, as if I weren’t there to experience it.
I gulp down the liquor Oliver brought me, dousing the fire building in my core. Jett stretches his arm over his head, the hem of his shirt lifting and revealing tan skin and flexing muscles while he explains the size of the bird.
Fuck, it’s hot in here, and my drink is empty, so I steal Amy’s when she’s not looking.
Drunk. I need to be mindlessly drunk to forget how hot he looks right now.