Time creeps to a halt as she drags the balm along her lower lip, drawing my gaze and causing my insides to tumble. She massages it in, and pulling air into my lungs is difficult.
I’m still staring at her mouth when I realize it’s moving and she’s speaking. “What?”
“Did you want some?”
Her brow furrows, and I take a small glob, rubbing it in the same way she did. She tosses it into her bag, while I attempt to slow the racing of my heart.
She’s hard to operate around. I get all flustered or tongue-tied, or I blurt out some nonsense that makes me look like a noob. It doesn’t happen around all girls—Charlie and Amy don’t ignite sparks along my skin—but when Sofía’s in the room, I have no problem focusing, as long as it’s on her.
She flattens her seat so she’s lying horizontal and slides the hat over her head, tying a knot at the top of her forehead. At my pulled brow, she chuckles and pats the fabric. “It’s a bonnet. It protects my hair while I sleep.”
“Oh.” I drag my fingers through my hair. It’s short again, but with added layers forvolume. Part of my revamp with Mateo and Oliver. “Maybe I should get one, too. Unless that’s weird. Then I won’t.”
“I don’t think it’s weird,” she mumbles, fluffing her pillow. “If anything, doing your skincare routine on a plane is kinda weird.”
She offers another small laugh, but it’s hollow and forced. I don’t like it—the way she says something self-deprecating, then laughs to shake off the low blow. That won’t do. We’ll need to work on having a more confident mindset—the both of us.
The cabin lights dim as the last passengers finish their meals and the flight attendants prepare for the long stretch across the Pacific. I slip off my Vans and flip through the moviesuntilSurf’s Upappears. Score. Sofía has slipped the eye mask over herhead, blocking out the world, and her body is curled up beneath the blanket.
Her breathing levels out while I finish working on the content I plan to post the first week of our trip. It takes over an hour to edit the last half of the video for the channel, plus another two to prep social media posts and write captions.
I’m adding the final touches and music to a short video, editing the clips to match the beat of the song, when Sofía rustles beside me. She slips the eye mask up to uncover her right eye. Squinting, she peers at the time, then at me. Even sleepy, she’s full of fire, and I know I’m about to face it head-on.
“It’s time to sleep,” she says, raspy but firm. “If you don’t, then you’ll be exhausted when we land.”
“Ah, right.” Darkness invades after I shut my laptop. “How could I forget? We have such a busy day tomorrow.”
The lone eyebrow dips low. “No we don’t.”
“You haven’t forgotten already, have you?” I ask, lying down to sleep like instructed. “Tomorrow we’re goingshopping.”
She groans. “I don’t need new clothes.”
“Ah, ah,” I chide. “Let’s not forget I’m the big boss.”
“You’re becoming a big pain in my ass,” she mutters, then slaps a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, that was—”
I barely stifle my laugh, waving my hand in the air. “Perfect comeback. Ten out of ten.”
Her lips tug up, and the conversation fades until we’re both staring at each other. “One outfit,” she concedes. “I’ll buy one new thing.”
“Deal.”
I stretch my hand out, and she clasps it, a jolt of electricity zapping up my arm.
Joke’s on her. She saidshewould only buy one outfit. She made no mention of whatIcould or couldn’t buy.
Checkmate.
Chapter 7
sofía
“Is that a shopping cart escalator?” Jett sprints to the mall entrance, eyes wide in wonder as a woman and a child ascend to the second level with their cart full of shopping bags. “A grocery store, too? Oh my god, this place isincredible.”
For someone who only slept for a few hours, he shows no visible response to the jet lag. I, however, stepped off the plane grimy and sticky—as if I had been tossed into a dumpster outsidea nightclub after rolling around on the dance floor.Where are the dark bags under his eyes?Mine are damn near beacons for extraterrestrial life, they’re so large.
I had finally figured out how to turn the power on in the bathroom to blow dry my hair when Jett knocked, ready for our “shopping date.” He waited while I got ready, scrolling on his phone, while the panic set in and I rushed to get ready. Outside of the occasional laugh—which I’m assuming was for his phone and not me—he made no comment or complaint about the wait. It was on the tip of my tongue to apologize, but ultimately, I kept it to myself.
