She looked away. Out at the ocean, at the waves rolling endlessly toward shore.
The panic hit fast. I'd pushed too hard. Assumed too much. We'd been in this bubble for less than a week and I was already talking about serious, about labels, about a future that existed beyond these two weeks.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have brought it up like that. Should have talked to you first before saying anything to Evie."
"It's okay." But her voice was careful. Measured. "It's just... things are moving fast."
"I know."
"A few days ago we were at each other's throats. And now..." She shook her head. "Now I don't know what this is."
I was quiet for a moment. Thinking.
"Do you want to put a label on it?" I asked.
She looked at me then. Something scared in her eyes. "What if this is just Hawaii? What if we get back to New York and everything's different? What if this whole thing just... dissolves?"
"It won't."
"You don't know that."
"I know how I felt when I kissed you in New York." I squeezed her fingers. "Before Hawaii. Before any of this. That wasn't the island, Aria. That was real."
She was quiet. The waves crashed below us. A bird called somewhere in the distance, high and sweet.
"Maybe we wait," she said finally. "Until we leave this bubble. See if it survives in the real world before we start putting labels on it."
It wasn't the answer I wanted. But it wasn't a no.
"Okay," I said. "We wait."
She smiled then. Small, but real. She squeezed my hand back.
We sat in comfortable silence, watching the waves, fingers intertwined. Like teenagers. Like people who had all the time in the world.
I knew this couldn't last forever. The evaluation ended in three days. We'd fly back to New York, back to our real lives, back to all the complications we'd been ignoring. The hotel. The competition. The families who'd been circling each other for decades.
But for now, I let myself pretend it could.
For now, I let myself be happy.
17ARIA
I woke before dawn,the way I had every morning since arriving. But instead of slipping out to watch the sunrise, I stayed where I was. Sebastian's arm was heavy across my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck. I could feel his heartbeat, slow and steady, through the thin cotton of my shirt.
His shirt, actually. I'd stolen it three days ago and he hadn't asked for it back.
Today, Mr. Kahale would make his decision.
We hadn't talked about it. Not once, in all the hours we'd spent tangled together this past week. It was a silent agreement, unspoken but understood. Whoever he chose deserved the hotel. The other would accept it. We would be okay.
I turned carefully, trying not to wake him, and studied his face in the gray pre-dawn light.
He looked younger when he slept. The sharp lines softened, the tension in his jaw released. His dark hair was a mess against the white pillow, and there was a crease on his cheek from the sheets. I'd done this every morning since we'd started sharing a bed. I watched him sleep. Memorized the details.
If he won, I would be okay with it.
The thought surprised me with its truth. A week ago, losing this hotel would have felt like losing a piece of myself. But now I knew him. Knew his heart, even if he still struggled to show it. Knew he would cherish this place the way it deserved to be cherished.
