Chapter 11
“Okay, George. I hear you. I hear you.” Swiping my phone off the night table, I silence my Wake Me Up Before You Go Go morning alarm. It’s another day in paradise and a new chance to score a shaded lounger.
I spot the notification icon at the edge of my screen. There’s a message waiting for me from my mother.
How surprised am I? Nada.
Mom
How’s your stomach?
It’s fine. Why are you obsessed with this?
Mom
Because I’m a mother.
You’re something, alright.
Mom
I found another webcam. Go to the La Estrella Hotel’s beach at 3:00 this afternoon and wave to me.
I’m not taking a taxi to another resort to indulge my crazy mother.
Mom
If I see you, I’ll know you’re alive.
Do you think I’m writing to you from the grave?
Mom
How do I text a mad face?
The last thing I need is for my mother to learn emojis.
You don’t. I’m heading to breakfast now.
Steering the conversation away from her ridiculousness with food is a guaranteed crazy-killer.
Mom
Did you make any new friends?
Now she thinks I’m in kindergarten.
I’m not here to make friends.
Mom
I can still fly down and keep you company.
With her passport-less honest face.
I love my mother—but nine days of togetherness…
No. A thousand times no.
Thanks, but I’m good. I’ve gotta go. Murderers carrying vials of Montezuma’s revenge are knocking at my door.
Mom
That was not funny.
The sole perk to having an overprotective mother is messing with her when she’s in nuts mode.
Talk to you soon.
Mom
Be safe! I’ll watch the webcam in case you change your mind.
I won’t. Bye.
Blinking away another insane conversation with my well-meaning, stomach issue obsessed mother, I twist my hair up in a high ponytail, grab my book, a towel and set off on my morning mission.
“Sheesh.” Moist, tropical air smacks me in the face as I swing open the door to my hotel room. Looks like it’s gonna be another scorcher today. As I leisurely stroll along the walkway towards the pool area, I stop for a moment to appreciate the vibrant red and pink hibiscus blooms and the lush, tropical plants around me.
I could get used to this.
The gardens, that is… not the oppressive heat.
“Excuse me.” A man in shorts and a sweat-soaked t-shirt runs past me, heading in the opposite direction. I do a double take when I recognize him as the Silver Fox. He’s probably running for his life from the wrath of the hot-tempered redhead with clipboard rage.
Pausing again, I gaze up at the sky, closing my eyes to bask in the sun’s warm rays. Despite the sweltering temperature, it feels surprisingly comforting. My thoughts wander back to last night, with my old friend, the moon…
And Daniel.
Funny, inappropriate, borderline insane…yet kind and thoughtful, Daniel.
An unexpected smile sneaks up on me.
I’m not typically a morning person. Usually smiles—genuine ones—not the polite to strangers kind, don’t occur until my second cup of coffee is coursing through my veins and I’ve scarfed down a bagel with cream cheese. Maybe the closer to the equator you are, the more serotonin the sun dishes out, and the quicker the morning blahs dissipate.
“Cheat, cheat. Cheat, cheat.”
Squinting, I look to the top of the palm trees and spot my early morning feathered friend. “Hey bird. Are you going to remind me what a lying son-of-a-bitch my ex is every morning?”
“Cheat, cheat. Cheat, cheat.”
“Guess so.”
As I step into the pool area, the scent of chlorine intensifies. Towels are haphazardly spread-out on loungers beneath the sheltered thatched roof sunbathing area. I lock eyes with another early riser, who is strategically positioning his towels and belongings on two unoccupied lounge chairs.
We exchange a quick nod in solidarity, understanding the one unspoken truth…
The early bird catches the shade.
“Buenos días,” I say to the pool attendant vacuuming the crystal-clear water.
“Buenos días,” he responds warmly, his smile genuine.
I haven’t encountered a single staff member who didn’t smile or exceed any expectations to ensure my stay was enjoyable. They’re all hard-working, good people.
As I move around the saved loungers, I come to a stop when I spot one that I like… on the opposite side of the one I found yesterday. One where I won’t have to worry about Mr. “I Don’t Play the Towel Game” stealing my seat. I lay my towel out and place my book in the middle of my chair.
I glance around and take in the patio area. There are plenty of unoccupied loungers this morning. I have nothing to worry about.
Confident that I beat my lounger-stealing nemesis, I leave the pool area and head back to my room for an extra hour of rest before breakfast.
After three generous servings of chilaquiles, a healthy helping of huevos rancheros with a cup of coffee and two mimosas, I’m stuffed. Breakfast buffets are the devil. I’ve achieved my morning trifecta. My belly is full, the sun is shining, and I can forget my life at home for a little while.
The beat of techno music grows louder as I stroll up the walkway toward the pool area entrance. I stop dead in my tracks and take a moment to soak it all in.
Like yesterday, the place is brimming with guests basking in the sun and getting their drinks on at the swim-up bar. The sweet aroma of coconut oil sunscreen has replaced the scent of chlorine.
As I survey the scene, my eyes land on Lily painting Mexican pottery at a folding table by the pool, joined by a group of other hotel guests. I have to hand it to her—she is all in when it comes to experiencing everything this resort offers. Tatted Thor sneaks up behind her, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. Her face blushes a deep shade of red as she nods in response.
Shaking my head, I chuckle to myself. I may not know the full story between these two… but it’s entertaining to watch it unfold from a distance.
Adjusting the beach bag slung over my shoulder, I saunter toward my lounge chair. After indulging in my big breakfast, I’m ready to embrace a late morning snooze. The breakfast mimosas have overruled my morning coffee and summoned my inner sloth.
Navigating through the crowd of greased-up guests, I finally arrive at the shaded area.
And I see him.
That motherfucker.
He did it again.
Marching over to my lounger, my hands clench tightly into fists as I come to a halt next to his chair.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask.
Daniel lowers his magazine and smirks. “Reading.”
“In my seat,” I chide.
“In my seat,” he corrects.
“How is this even possible? I put my stuff on the opposite side of the pool. How did you find it?”
Casually, he shrugs a shoulder. “Lucky, I guess.”
“Oh my God. You’re absolutely insufferable.”
“You mispronounced incredible,” he says, his voice oozing with smug satisfaction.
All the warm and fuzzy feelings I had about last night evaporate into the sky. The hot rays of sunshine are melting me into a puddle of angry Tess.
And that serotonin high I experienced? Poof! Vanished.
“Where the hell am I supposed to sit now? I won’t spend another day baking in the blazing sun.”
“Maybe you should have an earlier breakfast.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t steal my chair.” I wag my index finger in front of his face.
“Do I have to explain what stealing means again?”
“Do you have to keep existing in my airspace?”
“Feel free to leave.” Extending his arm, he motions for me to go.
“Is your sole purpose in life to be an asshole?”
“Could be,” he replies sarcastically.
“I don’t like you,” I snap, my tone filled with hostility.
“That’s probably for the best.”
“Where’s my towel and book?”
“Where you left them.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re actually sitting on top of my stuff?”
“Tess, Tess, Tess.” He shakes his head in disapproval.
That demeaning head shake sets me off—and like a branch in a hurricane, I snap.
“Don’t Tess me, you colossal asshole.” Boldly, I meet his eyes. Contempt drips from each syllable I spit out. “I almost fell for your nice guy act last night. I should have known better. You’re exactly the inconsiderate jerk I thought you were. And by the way, your jokes are stupid. You’re not as charming as you think you are. In fact, you’re, you’re… boring.”
“You’re not exactly a morning person, are you?” he asks dryly, raising his fist to his mouth and pretending to yawn.
I’m not a violent person either. But his condescending attitude has a way of bringing out the throat-punchy in me.
Through gritted teeth, I growl, “You’re the worst.”
“You’re kinda cute when you’re angry.”
“Then I must look like a basket full of puppies.” I firmly place my clenched hands on my hips. “Can you stand up so I can get my stuff and get far the hell away from you… you dull, tiresome prick.”
“Don’t think so.” Coolly, he licks the tip of his index finger and flips a page of his magazine.
“Why not?”
He’s holding my stuff hostage? Is this guy for real?
With a know-it-all smirk, he tilts his head toward the lounger next to him—the one with the oversized white towel stretched across it and Wicked Temptation laying untouched in the center.
Exactly where I left it.
Crap.
My face flushes with embarrassment. The third helping of breakfast chilaquiles churns in my stomach.
I just made a big mistake.
“Oh,” I barely get out. “Was that” — I point to my lounge chair — “there the whole time?”
“The whole time,” he says.
“Sorry. The chairs all look alike. And after yesterday…”
He snaps his magazine open again, positions it in front of his face, and pretends he’s reading.
“I didn’t mean to call you all those names,” I tell him.
“Yeah, you did,” he says sharply, never taking his eyes off his magazine.
“Daniel, I…” I huff a breath and sit on my chair. The chair that’s been patiently waiting for me since early this morning.
“Like I said—angry and aggressive,” he mumbles loud enough for me to hear as he turns a page.
Glancing uneasily above my book, I sneak a quick peek at my very silent neighbor. It’s been over an hour and he hasn’t uttered a silly quip, made-up a story about someone walking by, or sang a single note.
Nothing.
Walter walks by in a black speedo with a bright red bullseye on his junk. It’s clear ol’ Wally wants you to admire his wanker again, which is easy to do with that hypnotic circle of saggy balls and his T-shirt that says “Get Teste with Me.”
I side-eye Daniel. I mean, there’s no way he can let this jiggling spectacle pass by without comment.
But he remains silent. Not a word.
And I think… I think I miss him.
In a few short days, Daniel, with his odd sense of humor and inappropriate jokes, has made me feel less alone. He’s made me laugh, several times—something I never expected while I was here. And when I was feeling down last night, he was intuitively kind.
Yet somehow, I prove him right by being…angry and aggressive.
It’s never been easy for me to make friends. I pushed aside old friendships and put them on pause when I met Matt. My entire existence revolved around him and my job.
Look where it’s got me.
I came here to prove that I’m not afraid, that I can crawl out of the mess I left behind. I believed that change was possible for me. Yet, here I am, alienating the one person who has shown me kindness.
I’m an ass.
I hate that my conscience is in constant turmoil, struggling with my ability to trust that most people are inherently good. The events over the past few months have shaken me to my core, leaving me wary of others. Losing my faith in the kindness of strangers, I question every good intention. Second guessing myself is my new normal.
If I could trust Matt and he did that to me—how can I trust myself, my gut, or my heart ever again?
Betrayal is a thief. It takes without permission. And changes you without growth. One step forward, three steps back. I’ve become guarded, so careful with who I let in—I’ve become completely closed off. My mother promises that time will mend my broken heart, but I’m exhausted from feeling so damn fragile, like my life is a house of cards and I’m on the verge of the biggest sneeze in history.
This isn’t who I am. Or who I want to be. I want the old me back… only a better version of the old me. The person I was before Matt came into my life. I want to regain my confidence without having to fake it.
I open my book, pretending to read while admiring Daniel’s profile. I have no doubt there’s someone out there reading their GQ magazine with a blank cover… because the hot male model jumped off the page and is sitting right next to me.
Giving me the silent treatment.
Daniel stands and stretches his arms overhead before walking towards the pool’s edge. He glances back at me with a mischievous smirk before cannonballing into the water, causing a wave to crash over my legs.
That handsome bastard did that deliberately.
Jerk.
Slipping off my cover-up, I tuck a dollar bill under my bathing suit strap and approach the pool. I dip a toe in, finding it warm like bathwater. I can handle this. Spotting a nearby ladder, I descend slowly until the water reaches my shoulders.
Making amends is one thing, but there’s no way I’m jumping in and getting my hair wet.
I head towards the primary gathering spot of the pool—the swim-up bar. Navigating through a crowd of people enjoying their day drinking, I locate Lily perched on a stool, sipping a drink from a coconut. Daniel stands beside her, his wet hair slicked back, placing an order. I pretend not to notice him as I wade over to Lily.
“Another coconut cocktail?” I tease. “I never would have guessed.”
“Hi Tess.” Lily’s smile widens as she flicks one of her braids off her shoulder. “The bartenders make them special. It’s fresh coconut milk, two kinds of rum, and some other stuff. I think I’m addicted. Want one?”
“Thanks, but I’m a tequila girl.”
“She mispronounced tyrant,” Daniel mumbles loud enough for us to hear as he wades away from us with a beer in hand and heads toward the pool’s edge.
Lily’s brows furrow. “What was that about?”
“Ignore him,” I dismiss. “He’s being stubborn.”
“Are you two fighting?” she asks.
“We had a minor misunderstanding.”
Okay, that was an understatement. But what am I supposed to say? I was a colossal bitch, accused him of doing something he didn’t do, and called him boring?
Calling him boring is what I suspect bothered him the most.
“Aww, your first lover’s quarrel.”
“We’re not lovers. We will never be lovers, let alone friends. We barely tolerate each other because we have the misfortune of constantly bumping into each other.”
“HmmMmm.” She takes a sip from her coconut concoction, then tilts her head toward the side of the pool. “So you don’t mind that Coco is flirting with him right now?”
Glancing at the end of the pool, my eyes land on Daniel, his muscular arms folded on top of the pool’s edge, holding himself steady while he chats with Coco. She’s crouching down from outside the pool, dressed in a flowy floral dress that dances in the breeze. She looks like she’s about to do a photoshoot for Vogue.
My eyes narrow as I observe them laughing together. Coco playfully bites down on her ruby red lipsticked lips, her head nodding in agreement as they converse. With a flick of her perfectly styled hair, she exposes a naked shoulder, a deliberate move to keep Daniel’s attention.
Son-of-a-bitch. She is flirting with him.
I don’t know if that’s breaking girl-code. Daniel and I aren’t a couple. I said so in the bathroom at Wasabis last night. But we were together. Kinda.
Okay, not really.
Not at all, actually.
Ugh. I need a drink.
Raising my hand with a quick wave, I catch the bartender’s attention. “Paloma, por favor,” I request.
“Sí, se?orita.”
As I wait for my drink, I snatch another glimpse at the corner of the pool. The redheaded she-devil is boldly touching Daniel’s biceps. And that attractive asshole looks like he’s into it.
Oh, what the hell is wrong with me? That girl is doing me a favor. Daniel hooking up with the person who tried to behead me is my best-case scenario. He’ll focus on someone else to irritate. And she’ll be annoyed the rest of her trip.
“What they do is none of my business,” I tell Lily, looking away from the spectacle across the pool.
She takes another sip from her coconut. As she lifts an arched brow, a cheery glint sparkles in her eyes. “If you say so,” she says skeptically.
For a girl I thought was kind of a wallflower, she sure has a lot of sass.
“Well, I’m going back to my lounger.” I slip a wet dollar on the bar as a tip and swipe my drink off the counter. “See you around.”
“The activities staff is having a volleyball game in the pool in about an hour. It’ll be fun. You should join in.”
Sports and me?
Yeah, no.
“Thanks, but I have other plans.” That plan is to plop my ass down on my chair, hide from the sun, and stew over what I witnessed. “Have fun.”
Peeking over the pages of my book, I discreetly observe Mexico’s newest and most obnoxious couple.
Must this girl be so blatantly obvious? I mean, show a little self-respect, an ounce of subtlety. Play a little hard-to-get, for crying out loud. She’s practically throwing herself at him with her coquettish smile and exaggerated giggles.
Daniel may be funny, but he’s not that funny.
Okay, he is.
Where’s the Silver Fox, anyway? Shouldn’t she be assaulting him with clipboards and insults? Don’t they have ‘a thing’—whatever that is—to do?
I watch as the Ginger Jezebel finally relinquishes her hold on him, rising from her crouched position with her signature finger wiggle wave. Daniel wades through the cluster of resort guests in the pool and heads in the direction of our chairs. Quickly, I raise my book to hide my face and pretend to read.
Glancing from the side of my book, I can’t resist admiring his physique as he emerges from the pool. Water droplets shine on his tanned skin, accentuating his toned body. He moves with an easy air of self-confidence, taking a few steps towards his lounger, adjusting his towel, and settling down.
Dammit. I am checking out his wet and glistening body.
Can this day get any more ridiculous?
Unfazed by my presence, he reclines on his lounger and slips on a pair of aviators.
Ever since I saw the movie Top Gun, I’ve had a thing for men in aviators. I don’t know why, but they elevate the most ordinary of men up a few notches.
With one exception.
Matt.
Somehow, something that’s a guaranteed win looked stupid on him. He’s the only person in the world that can ruin the unruinable.
But on Daniel… yummy, luscious, Daniel… the heat is on.
No. The last thing I need is developing an attraction to a guy who probably made plans to hook-up with the redheaded human guillotine.
I’m getting precisely what I want. Me time. Solitude.
With a swift motion, I grab my drink from the shared table. I take a long sip, relishing the tangy sweetness of the grapefruit and tequila cocktail. I close my eyes, lean my head back, and surrender to the peacefulness of the afternoon.
The lively melody of music and cheerful voices pierce through the air, rousing me from my peaceful midafternoon slumber. As I gaze out towards the pool, a spirited water volleyball game captures my attention, bringing a smile to my face. I spot Lily, valiantly trying to hit the ball without drowning. Fake Thor, situated near the perimeter of the pool, applauds and encourages her with enthusiasm.
What’s the deal with those two?
I think I found my ice-breaker.
Daniel and Lily have developed some kind of quick friendship. Here’s the perfect opportunity to reopen communications.
Peeking to my side, I check out my lounge neighbor and frown.
What in the…?
A nearly naked Walter and his bulging bullseye are napping in the lounger with no Daniel in sight. Wally scratches the red rings of terror surrounding his junk, then blows out a long, phlegm-filled, gurgling snore.
Thank God I’ve digested my breakfast.
My stomach sinks. I’m uncertain if it’s about Daniel leaving or the disturbing sounds coming from his replacement’s throat.
Disheartened, I lower my chin towards my chest and fix my gaze upon my lap.
“Message received,” I whisper to myself.