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It doesn’t work. He composes himself, drops his hand, and shakes his head. “Why can’t you just take it easy on these people?”
“Because they like to have fun!Ilike to have fun. Look. See?” I start to dance in front of him, shimmying and being silly to see if I can succeed in breaking his character. He’s like one of those stuffy British royal guards.No smiling! No personality whatsoever or the king will hear about it!
He sighs.
I continue, shimmying forward and back now instead of side to side.
It’s a game.
How long can I force him to stand here and watch me make a fool of myself?
How long can he keep from laughing?!I’mlaughing.
“Oh fine.” I toss my hands up. “God, you’re so annoying.”
He ignores the jab. He knows there’s no heat behind it. I’ve been calling him annoying for as long as I’ve known him.
Cole and I met my very first day on the job. In fact, he was the very first staff member I met at Siesta Playa. He gave me my uniform, showed me around the resort, and plopped me at my dorm room in staff housing like he was hoping he’d never have to deal with me again.
We were a disaster from the start. That day, my flight was late getting in. On top of that, the airline lost my luggage. I left a message with the hotel, but I guess word didn’t make it to Cole. Apparently, he was standing there in the lobby for a good long while by the time I arrived, sweaty and flustered, blowing loose strands of hair off my face. I hate to admit this, truly I had plans to take it to my grave, but my first impression of Cole was that he was smoking hot—likeDo a double take, press a hand to your heart, blink three times, and try to figure out how to quickly conceal your reaction to himhot. I made the mistake of trying to engage him in friendly conversation and managed to put my foot in my mouth almost immediately.
“So are you the concierge here?” I asked with a big friendly smile.
He took full offense to this question, frown and all. “I’m the assistant director of operations.”
“That’s ... wow. That’s pretty high up, right?”
He didn’t answer me.
Small talk was apparently beneath him.
Right. Good to know.
I was about to apologize for the blunder,andabout being late, but he was already in the process of taking my bags and turning sharply to walk off ahead of me. I assumed I was meant to keep up with him—he had my stuff, after all—but it was hard because one of my flip-flops happened to break just as I was hurrying out of the taxi out front. Surely Cole realized this, but I was left to sort of hobble along behind him as he kept his breakneck pace.
“Who wears flip-flops to the airport?” he muttered. I was sure the comment was meant to be under his breath, but I still heard him loud and clear. And at that moment, the tight hold I had over my bad mood burst like an overstuffed balloon. So far, I’d taken all the bullshit fromthat morning in stride: I’d put up with my delayed flight, the stress of being late to my first day of work, the fact that I was sweating through my clothes, the weird motion sickness from the jerky stops and starts in my hellacious taxi ride over here, my flip-flop deciding to break theexactmoment I needed it the most.
I think I fired off something right back, like “Who wears a suit on a tropical island?”
His head slowly swiveled toward me and his eyes turned dark and dangerous.
And so, here we are, stuck in an endless loop of torment. I can’t believe what Lara and Camila were hinting about at the bonfire. Cole is thelastperson I would ever envision dating, and I don’t even need to ask his opinion. I know Cole would say I’m not exactly his type either. Even still, I know our banter and antics evince a deeper, foundational friendship. We’re enemies because it’s easy, our resting state, the natural order of things. We’ll maintain the status quo only so long as we don’t dig too deep or question our relationship too hard.
Now, I look at him. He has all the marks of a bully. I’ve always thought he had sort of an old money, East Coast feel about him: taunting cheekbones, shockingly black hair, dark eyes that seem to cut straight through me, and full lips that would feel so good pressed against mine, I know it. I blink and blurt out, “I didn’t see you at the bonfire.”
Of course he didn’t go to the bonfire, not that I thought he would. It’s not his scene. Getting soot on his dress slacks? Sand on his hands? He’d hate that. He wants to tame the elements, not join them.
“I wasn’t technically invited,” he points out.
“You could have come. No one would have cared.”
He arches a brow, pressing the theory.
“It was just a small group,” I add.
“I had other plans.”
“Like what? Calling the mother ship and reporting your findings?” I continue in an alien accent, pretending I’m him: “Earth humans are more strange than previously theorized. Will need to extend myresearch exploration trip before I can finalize my report on their habits. Beep boop.”
