I kissed my boss.
Oh, shit. I kissed him. And then I slammed the door in his face. This is bad. Downright awful. “Getting fired from the job I’m enjoying” type of bad.
Oh, Sofía, you fucked up this time.
Panic clutches my chest, and I dig through my purse for my phone.6:07 a.m.The screen shows a handful of emails, a few social media notifications, a missed FaceTime from Luisa, and one text message.
Jett: We should talk.
Nope. No. I hop out of bed and pace the room. We don’t need to talk about it. Not about the kiss or the emotions or how, when I think about the kiss, my stomach flurries at the idea of doing it again.
Those are not things we need to address.
I can send a formal written apology via email, and then I’ll put myself on a plane home. There’s no way I can face him.
A knock rattles through the room, and I pause, going stock-still. If I’m quiet, they’ll go away. We don’t need to be at the marina until seven forty-five, which means I have an hour and a half to fix this.
Another, louder knock sounds, followed by the last voice I expected. “Sofía, can we talk?”
I rip the door open to find Oliver, his hair disheveled and his glasses off-center. His gaze drops to my pajamas, and he scratches the nape of his neck.
“I-I can come back later.”
Oh, what the hell. We can panic together. I let him into the room, and he sits on the untouched bed closest to the door.
“What do you want?”
He needs to get whatever’s bothering him about his relationship with Amy off his chest so I can fix it and go back to trying to solve my massive problem created by drunk Sofía, who let her sober thoughts get away from her.
“I fucked up.” At the obvious look on my face, he adds, “I shouldn’t have started something again, and now everything is messy. I don’t know how to make it right.”
Huh. Would you look at that, we both regret our choices last night.
I anticipated his regret; I did not expect my own.
“Why don’t you ask Mateo for advice?” I ask him, rifling through my bag like I might find a time machine at the bottom beside the snacks.
“And risk wronging Charlie in the morning? I’d rather not.”
Fair enough. The only person safe from her wrath before eight a.m. is Mateo, and even then, she glares at him if he blinks too loudly.
“You could fall off the face of the planet and resurface when the dust settles,” I offer.
Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Go into hibernation until I can stomp out my rogue emotions connected to Jett. We can call off our little PR relationship, and I’ll commune with nature until I can figure out what provoked me tokisshim.
“I don’t want this trip to be weird,” Oliver says. “Last night was a mistake.”
“Too late for that. You kiss your boss, and shit gets weird.”
“I—what? No.” He pauses when he clocks the abject horror on my face. I didnotmean to say that out loud. “Did you kiss your boss? Did you…did you kiss Jett?”
“What? No,”I shout in a shrill voice. “Why would you accuse me of that?”
“You said it, not me.” A smile pulls at his lips. “So that’s why he was in such a good mood this morning.”
“Jett was in a good mood? He’s not angry?”
My heart leaps. Oliver quirks a brow. “He was heading to a coffee shop when I was on my way here. Big smile. Goofy look on his face. Almost like he was kissed by a girl he likes.”
