“It’s okay, I wouldn’t have believed my parents either if I didn’t see the sign,” I admit. My dad could have always just shared that story because of the sign, but I choose to believe otherwise. That is, until they got divorced. Now? I think it’s just a clever tourist trap with decent branding. Worked on my mom though.
Shortly after Lana’s history lesson, our facemasks have hardened and dried, our faces are ready to be washed off. I stand up on the rock and Lana follows my lead. I dive off head-first into the hot, steamy water. I feel the current increase behind me as Lana does the same. We rise up to the surface, removing the masks’ remnants from our faces. We head to the stairs halfway submerged in the water and begin climbing. We’re both soaked and the shock of the cold instantly hits us.
“Shit! My nipples are getting hard!” Lana says, crossing her arms over her chest.
I can’t help but laugh. “So are mine!”
We’re jogging in place and laughing our asses off. The bottoms of our feet are getting cold.
“Let’s go get some towels,” I say.
“Good idea!”
“But first, I need to tell you something,” I say while standing still, ignoring the coldness in my feet.
“What?” She asks, all serious.
“I love you!”
She bursts out a loud laugh. “I love you too, my lesbian lover. Now let’s get towels before I die of hypothermia and can’t tell you I love you again,” she says.
Then we head inside and dry ourselves.
After a full half-day of luxurious healing, we finish out our pampering with mani pedis while drinking dirty martinis with a twist. The employees at the spa didn’t ID us, thank God. I needed this drink. They’re not as strong tasting as I’m used to but I’m feeling it so at least it’s working. I think it’s the altitude.
I’m getting my hands and toes done with a french tip, Lana decided to get the same. We’re gonna be twinning. Normally I think that’s gross, but right now I think it’s nice to have someone to twin with. This is my go-to nail combo, I don’t really like getting anything else.
Our hands are done and now we are getting our toes done.
We got our phones back after being locked up all morning so our spa day was phone free. The nail tech was kind enough to do our hands one at a time so that we could fiddle on our phones.
I’m scrolling through the photos Lana took of me last night of me in the green bikini for the first time and I’m obsessed. These came out better than I imagined.
I pick a few that I like and head over to the Instagram app.
“Okay, Lana, help me. What should I caption this post on Insta?” I ask her.
She grabs the phone to look at the photos I pick.
“Hmm, maybe something like; ‘Thought we were going to Cabo’”
“That’s perfect!” I tell her.
I type in the caption and click post.
I go back to my camera roll and scroll through the last of the photos that I may have missed when one catches my eye.
Him.
“Lana! You got a photo of that guy running into me!” I tell her, as I stare at a photo of him holding me and looking into my eyes.
“I did?” she asks.
“Yes!” I answer, then shove the phone in her face so she can see.
“Oh yeah, I thought you’d like the memory,” she says casually.
“Ugh! Lana, what do I do?” It's been hours of relaxation and I still can’t get this man out of my head. I’m begging her for some sort of reassurance or advice.
