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He belongs in neither of the two groups. An entity unto himself. He’s too young to really fit in with the directors, and also he lives in staff housing like the rest of us. It’s tricky, though, because he also doesn’t quite fit in my world either. The very idea of him shooting the shit with Blaze or Théo or Oscar ... it’s inconceivable.
Still . . .
“I guess ... if you wanted ...” I’m forcing the words. They’re thick and heavy on my tongue. It’s like someone’s holding a gun to my head.
He frowns like he’s disappointed with me, and then he shakes his head. It’s nothing new.
Before I can say anything else, he turns and walks away.
Chapter Two
PAIGE
It’s no coincidence that I’ve found myself working at a place like Siesta Playa. My parents are both marine biologists actively working in the field, i.e., two absolute kooks who’d rather be swimming alongside sea turtles than having to deal with real live people. I’m surprised they even wanted a kid. Though lovely and supportive, they were ill prepared to offer me a structured childhood of any sort. My adolescent years were spent globe-trotting, hopping from school to school, friend group to friend group. They didn’t see why a child should slow them down. Need two researchers to explore the Indian Ocean? Great! Paige knows how to swim; it should be fine.
Their adventure-loving ways clearly rubbed off on me because even in college, I never settled down for long. I studied abroad in Portugal and New Zealand and spent a year at sea after graduation before deciding that there was just something ... missing.
A part of me worried I was only living that way of life because it’s all I knew, not because it necessarily made me happy. In practice, it’s harder than it sounds to be that casual and carefree. Logistically, it’s anightmaretrying to figure out where exactly you’ll be from one week to the next. Also, there’s a real loneliness that accompanies that way of life. You endup feeling like a perpetual tourist, as if you don’t really belong anywhere. Living only for the thrill of new adventures eventually starts to get old, and more than anything, I felt myself longing for lasting connections and a place I could get used to. Becoming a regular at a coffee shop—having someone call out to me, “Vanilla latte, extra shot?”—started to soundwaymore exotic than stuffing clothes into a backpack and taking off to parts unknown.
I wanted roots. I wanted routine. I wanted a home.
I decided if I was going to be in one place for a long time, I’d better pick somewhere amazing. So that’s how I decided the island life was for me.
I’ve been in Turks and Caicos for a year, and I love it. There’s still plenty of adventure. Every day, it’s something different—between sunbathing on Long Bay Beach, exploring the caverns of the Conch Bar Caves, and snorkeling the Grand Turk Wall—I can see myself being here for a long,longtime.
It helps that I like my job and coworkers. Unfortunately, my position pays absolute crap. Like some days it feels likeI’mpayingthemto let me work here, but our food and housing are covered, and I otherwise make do. There’s a real camaraderie among us, aOne for all and all for onevibe, as evidenced by tonight’s bonfire.
I’ve scrounged around my dorm to find an unopened bottle of wine and two cans of beer. Someone else will surely bring more alcohol and hopefully some good snacks. I’m crossing my fingers for marshmallows, because what’s the point of sitting around a fire without them?
Théo and Oscar already have a nice setup going when I get down to the beach. As the unofficial party planners, they dug a firepit and brought a few chairs. Nothing else is required, really. The island does the rest of the heavy lifting. The sun’s putting on a show as it drops down toward the horizon, gifting us a cotton candy sky, pink and orange and so beautiful I stop for a second to stare at it. I’ll never get enough. The turquoise water is calm as the waves roll in, and the sand is soft. I slip off my sandals to traipse barefoot toward the guys.
Unlike me, Théo’s from here, born and raised on the island. Oscar’s a transplant from Australia. They both work on the golf course, which never fails to make me smile because of what a contradiction it is. All day at work they’re stuck wearing pressed polos and khakis. Oscar hides his buzzed neon-blue hair beneath a Siesta Playa baseball cap so the guests are none the wiser. Théo’s totally tatted from wrist to collarbone, but you’d never know it when he’s wearing his long-sleeved uniform shirts. Tonight, though, we can just be ourselves. Oscar’s wearing board shorts and a tank top. Théo’s in cargo shorts and a vintage-looking band T-shirt.
I stop in front of them and dip down in a dramatic curtsy like they’re two kings and I’m a mere peasant.
“I bestow upon you two lukewarm beers,” I tease, handing each of them one as a thank-you for setting up the bonfire for the rest of us.
“Damn, I’ll take it,” Oscar says, cracking it open right away.
“How can I help?” I ask, surveying the cluster of chairs and pile of miscellaneous snacks and drinks.
“You can regale us with a story about your day,” Théo replies with a smile. His teeth aren’t perfectly straight, but his crooked smile only adds to his charm. “Heard you got an earful at the excursion desk.”
“You could say that.” I groan. “Have you dealt with the Daughertys much this week?”
“Just the husband. He’s been at the golf course every day hiding out from his wife.”
“Can’t say I blame him.”
“Someone said Cole came to your rescue, though ...,” Oscar chimes in with a knowing smile.
“Hardly.”
Théo laughs and points me toward the stack of chairs. “Want to set those up for us?”
“On it!”
I’m one of the first people here by design. I have a strategy for tonight that includes giving Blaze easy access to me. Spatially, that is. Idon’t want to be stuck squashed between two occupied beach chairs, so I purposefully lay out my towel on a nice patch of sand near the water with plenty of space on either side of me, and I wait.
