Chapter 15
Junie
Okay, so he doesn’t hate me.
When he drops me off outside volunteer housing at sunrise, I think about asking him to come inside, but then I remember my squeaky bunk bed and the shared sleeping arrangements, and realize how silly that would sound.
I drag the toe of my flip flop through the sand, hovering inches away from him.
The sun is just peering over the horizon, painting the sky in pinks and golds.
He looks devastatingly handsome, a soft breeze blowing his hair.
I wonder what changed for him. A thousand words form on the tip of my tongue.
I want to talk about the turtles. I want to talk about the kiss. I want to keep our mouths shut and let our bodies do the talking. For once, I’m tongue-tied. Where do we go from here?
I’m relieved when he takes the lead, but his words drop like stones in my gut, sending disappointed ripples throughout my body.
“I should go check in with Mike about the new nest.” The way he elongates his vowels makes me want to taste them on his tongue.
“I’ll go with you,” I say, fighting back a yawn.
“No, get some shut-eye. It won’t take but a minute and we both need some sleep.
” As disappointed as I am, the rejection doesn’t sting this time.
We’re stuck on a tiny island together. He doesn’t hate me.
He kissed me like it was the last day of his life.
I’m teetering so close to the edge of sleep, I can’t even be certain this whole thing isn’t a dream.
Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of—waking up alone and realizing this never happened. I don’t live the kind of life where I stay up all night, witnessing miracles of nature. I don’t live a life where sexy Australian dive instructors reach out to cradle my face in one big, warm hand.
But he does. His thumb tucks under my chin, his fingers wrap around my neck, and he tilts my head up toward his. My lips part involuntarily over a shuddered breath as his eyes seem to drink me in.
He presses his lips firmly to mine but steps back before I can ease into the kiss. Everything that has tightened inside of me unspools like spilt thread.
“Get some rest,” he finally says, looking like he wants to say so much more.
“Good night,” I croak. But he’s already walking away, heading toward the museum and the quickly coming dawn.
Any romantic ideas I had about shared housing are officially ruined. I’m aching with the need to touch myself, but not even the deep snoring of my roommates could convince me to fool around with a potential audience. I’ll have to count on a cold shower to douse these flames before I get any sleep.
I witnessed two miracles tonight. A green sea turtle laying her eggs in a beautiful ritual, and a sarcastic Aussie who changed his mind about me.
I fall asleep floating on a cloud of high hopes.
But when I open my eyes to the bright light of early afternoon crashing through the windows, it all feels like a story I told myself of what might’ve been. The cabin is empty and I take a moment to remember where I am, and why I’m here.
I’m supposed to be figuring out my life, not obsessing over a man. Is there a life for me outside of a boring office? Could I be a conservationist, a biologist, an animal rights activist? A dive master?
So after nearly a week of my thoughts becoming a tangled snarl whenever he’s near, I play it cool. Steven seems to be everywhere at the sanctuary—constantly around—but nothing happens between us. At least, nothing real.
I refuse to ruminate on it. I refuse to acknowledge how he sucks all the air out of every room he walks in.
I throw myself into work. I set up a website to take online donations, which involves a lot of back and forth with Mike.
The sanctuary doesn’t run like any business I’m familiar with, so the details take a while to hammer out, and I can see why no one has done it before.
But in the end, when the first $10 donation comes through, it all seems worth it.
I get his approval to use some of those funds to push our social media posts to travelers in their 20s interested in animal conservation and scuba diving.
Whether they stop by for a course or stay on as a volunteer, we’ll be grateful for the extra hands and eyes on our work.
Word of mouth is still the best way to attract the right people to a special place like Gili Telu Turtle Sanctuary, and after witnessing the nesting last night, I’m more motivated than ever.
Having something to focus on, even if I’m still tired from our overnight vigil, is a perfect distraction. For a few hours, I almost forget about the hunky Aussie until his shadow falls over me in late afternoon.
“About those videos—” I nearly jump out of my skin at his gravelly voice over my shoulder.
I flush, embarrassed. “It’s nothing, really. A joke. We’re filming some of the real content tonight so they’ll never see the light of day.”
“I want to see.”
“They’re not even funny, I promise—”
“Junie…” His tone is both teasing and a warning. I crumple beneath the weight of his gaze. He hasn’t spoken to me at all since our kiss this morning. I’ve done hours of amazing work, and this is what he chooses to confront me about? I never should have made those edits.
I grit my teeth and pull up some of my brainstorming content, scrolling to the silliest ones like a calendar mockup with photos of Steven and Mike stretched out on flamingo floaties.
There are turtles looking on with cartoon heart eyes.
I brace myself for anger, humiliation, or another one of his sulky, silent moods, but he surprises me.
The sound rumbles up from deep in his belly and warms me to the core—laughter. I couldn’t be more surprised if he’d smacked me across the face.
“This is great!” he bellows, reaching around me to flick through more of the images. He watches the GIF of him throwing his mermaid hair back a few times. “Bloody brilliant. You really are good at this.”
“Don’t act so surprised.” I roll my eyes and push him away, powering down the laptop.
“I’m not surprised at all. You seem like the kind of person who’s great at everything you try.” How does he make the words sound like a purr? Like the scrape of his tongue against the most sensitive part of me?
For the first time all day, he seems in the mood to talk, but I’m running late to meet up with the others to film. As much as I want to know what’s going on between us, I’m not going to let him get in the way of doing what I came here for.
“I’ve got to go.” I throw my bag over my shoulder and hustle out of the room, the sound of his laughter echoing in my ears, making my stomach flip with butterflies. I have it bad for him, but the world doesn’t revolve around sexy men who don’t know how to communicate.
Filming with Juliette, Mason, Victoria, and Thomas is a blast. I have a few ideas storyboarded including a Day in the Life of a Volunteer montage, and we get some great shots of the museum tour, our quickly tidied lodging, and plenty of candid moments.
It’s Sunday night so as the sun sets, we head to the beach cleanup in our matching blue shirts, a tangle of overlapping voices and sun-tanned faces.
It’s only been a week and I already feel at home with them—but I can’t open up about the thing that’s bothering me most. For just a moment, I feel the sharp pang of missing my best friend. Eva would know what to do about Steven.
He said we’d have a conversation about what’s growing between us, but I’m not about to beg for one. If David taught me anything, it’s that if he wanted to, he would. And Steven clearly doesn’t.
I have no expectations when we stroll into The Local. I’m prepared to suppress every chatty bone in my body to avoid making a fool of myself yet again. He watches me walk in with the group and I feel the fire in his eyes burning me alive. I turn toward my friends and pretend I haven’t seen him.
I don’t like feeling so distracted by his presence. When Juliette climbs on a barstool to address the small crowd, I stare at her intently, refusing to let my eyes wander and inevitably end up on that unbuttoned shirt, framing the blonde chest hair I’d run my fingers through less than 24 hours ago.
The group disperses, wandering down the beach, but Victoria and I hang back. “We’ll catch the stragglers.” She winks. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I dig through the sand with my toes to unearth a bottle cap and add it to our collection.
“I’ve heard that a lot of Americans don’t have a passport. You’ve really never left the States before this?”
“Not really. I know, it’s pathetic.” Most of the volunteers have visited countries in the double digits. I’m envious, inspired, and hate the feeling of being behind all at once, but better late than never.
“It’s pretty brave of you to jump into a month-long volunteer position.” Victoria’s the last person I expect a compliment from. She’s the volunteer I feel least connected to, but her words sound vulnerable and kind and they crack me open in a way that feels healing.
“Didn’t you solo travel through India? My grandmother did that in the sixties and she told those stories until the day she died. I wouldn’t even get on a plane until my best friend promised she’d hold my hand.”
“India is a beautiful country,” she says wistfully, reaching for a cigarette butt. “But so is Indonesia. I was terrified the first time I traveled on my own, and that was just to Spain. You seem to know what you’re doing. Mike said we’re already getting more volunteer applications.”
My heart stutters. The praise for my work feels good, but I’m also deeply curious about what’s going on between her and Mike.
Everyone knows they’re flirty with each other, but I haven’t heard anything official.
I’m bursting for someone to talk to about Steven, but I’m not sure if I can trust her.
I settle for some selective vulnerability in another direction instead.
“I miss my friends, though.” I admit, quietly. “I’m excited to be here, and I think this is the right thing for me, but I can’t help feeling a tiny bit sad. I miss my Mom’s porkchops. I want to know what’s going on with my sister. It’s weird being so far away.”
“That’s normal.” Victoria shrugs. “That’s what makes technology so great.
” She gestures to her phone, a massive thing with a waterproof case that’s almost always attached to her body with a lanyard.
“Whenever I get sad, I call home and within a few minutes I’m usually reminded how much those fuckers actually annoy me. ”
I snort.
“I’m serious.” She deadpans. “I have three brothers. But when I do go home, the time we spend together always feels more intentional. It’s not for everyone, but I love longterm travel. Meeting new people, falling in love again and again. I live for it.”
“That makes sense,” I say, even as a knot tightens in my chest. Is that Steven’s perspective too? Am I just another conquest? Does he love the feeling of falling in love, and I conveniently threw myself at him?
“Sorry if I overstepped, you just seemed a little sad.”
“No, it’s fine. I appreciate it.” I do. It feels good to say all of this out loud.
“If you want to sneak out of here and go call some friends, I’ll cover for you,” she says, looking down the beach where the volunteers are beginning to herd everyone back.
Talking to Eva right now would be so helpful. And I’ll have the dorms to myself for a while. It’s a very tempting offer.
“Are we allowed to do that?” I ask, “I won’t like… get in trouble?”
Victoria scoffs and waves me away. “What are they going to do, love? Fire you?”
I take her advice, handing her my small collection of trash and scampering off the beach. Talking to my best friend and avoiding Steven? It’s a no-brainer.
I call Eva from my top bunk and feel a wave of relief wash through me as her face pops up on screen. It’s nearly 7 AM there, she’s still in bed, but she smiles sleepily at me.
“How’s my most badass friend doing? How are the turtles?”
“The turtles are great.” I grin and spend the next twenty minutes catching her up on everything that’s happened the last few days. Everything except for the guy who kissed me so thoroughly that it ruined me for anyone else.
Instead, I tell her about scuba diving, the donations, and my ideas for improving the sanctuary’s social media campaign. She finds the link and contributes while we’re still on the phone and it makes me feel a little less alone. She’s such a good friend.
I love watching her face as I describe our turtle vigil last night. “There were so many eggs! All small and slimy. Steven said that whether they’re male or female depends on how warm the sands are around their nest. Warmer sand means more males, and colder sand means females.”
“Wow, Steven sure knows a lot about sea turtles,” she says, letting me know that she’s picked up on how often his name has come up, even though I thought I was doing a good job dancing around it.
I want to talk about the kiss, but that would make it real, and I have no idea what happens next.
“That sounds incredible, Junie. You’re having a once in a lifetime experience out there. I’m really jealous.”
“You could always come back,” I suggest, only half joking. “The other volunteers are great, but it’s not like having my best friend here.” I have never been alone and so far from home. It’s hitting me harder than I expected.
Three weeks ago I was boring, dependable Junie. The eldest daughter, a typical anxious perfectionist.
But here, I’m staying up all night to protect turtle hatchlings.
I’m kissing foreign men without knowing where we stand.
I’m squatting over a hole in the ground whenever I forget to use the toilet at the sanctuary.
I show Eva the bathroom on video and she cackles, but I draw the line at giving a demonstration.
“It’s not as bad as it looks!” I insist, feeling defensive over my new life.
“I guess everything can’t be perfect, even in paradise.” She laughs.
“I really miss you.” I cradle the phone in my hands like I can hug her through the air waves.
“I miss you too. Do you think you’re homesick? It sounds like you’re having fun, but you can always come home early if it feels like too much.”
“No,” I say, too fast. I hadn’t realized how certain I am until she asked. “I’m definitely going to see this through. I just wanted to chat.”
“Call any time.” Eva blows a kiss. “I’m so proud of you.”
It wasn’t the gossipy boy talk I’m craving, but I feel grounded after our chat. I try Lisa next, but it goes straight to voicemail.
I fall asleep to the croaking of tokeh lizards and the sporadic shuffling of my new friends as they drift back in from the beach.