Page 49 of Savage Surrender

We pile into the single bathroom together, trying not to touch any of the surfaces that could benefit from a good scrub, and quickly change.

I select a cute one-piece with crochet panels at the waist and throw a semi-transparent cover-up over it.

I can’t help but giggle at Tristan’s neon-pink flamingo shirt. I’ve never seen any of them in clothes like this, and it tickles my soul.

Weller’s in green and pink Hawaiian floral, Owen’s covered in palm trees, and Freddie is wearing a shirt with smiling fruits dressed like rock stars and the words Bag Packed. Back Waxed. Belly Ready for Vacation Snacks. across the back. Completely ridiculous.

While the other three groan about what he chose for them, Freddie says, all wounded, “Don’t be so lame. We’re supposed to look like tourists. The point is to fit in.”

“I think you all look adorable. Very festive.” I give them a final once-over, then catch Freddie’s hand and squeeze. “And I love what you picked for me. All of it. You did good.”

His smile softens, dimples deepening as his thumb brushes over my knuckles. “I knew the green would look good on you.”

That gets Weller to look at me. The sheer ivory cover-up does nothing to hide the green crochet one-piece beneath it, from the scalloped neckline to the open panels baring strips of my waist, although the suit itself covers everything required by both law and basic decency. His attention moves slowly down me anyway, and his mouth flattens.

“No.”

Owen turns at the word and immediately scowls. “Absolutely not.”

I look down at myself. “What?”

“That cover-up is transparent,” Weller says. “Everyone can see you.”

Owen pinches the fabric at my hip and pulls it away from my body, holding it up as though the clear outline of his fingers through it settles the matter. “It covers nothing.”

“It covers several important inches.”

“I like it,” Tristan says, his attention moving slowly down my body. “A lot.”

Weller closes his eyes for a second. “You’re not helping.”

“I bought her three full coverage sundresses,” Freddie offers. His pleasure over my compliment is already collapsing beneath the combined disapproval of the other two. “But I thought she’d like it.”

“It’s cute, and I’m fully covered.” I rise onto my toes and kiss his cheek before facing the other two. “You do not get to dictate what I wear because somebody else might look at me. I’m wearing it.”

Owen’s shirt strains across his shoulders, and Freddie might have bought him a size too small because he keeps yanking at the hem as if it will grow longer. Weller has buttoned his shirt up to his throat as though proper fastening might restore his dignity, and Tristan leaves his open, showing off tan skin I’d like to lick...

Freddie asked the cashier for the closest taxi station, and he pointed him toward a stand two blocks over. The first driver we come across barely looks up from his newspaper when Weller asks about the ferry drop-off, though his eyes sharpen when Weller offers a handful of cash.

“Five of you?” the man asks.

“Yep,” Freddie says. “It’s our sister’s college graduation trip.”

Four heads turn toward him as the driver grabs our meager belongings and puts them in the trunk.

“Our sister,” Tristan repeats under his breath.

Freddie’s smile doesn’t move, but the tips of his ears turn bright red. “I panicked.”

Weller waits until the van is moving and the man has turned his radio up before speaking. “Next time, let me do the talking.”

“A group of clowns would have raised fewer questions,” Tristan offers.

Freddie sinks lower in his seat. “I hate all of you.”

“Love you too, big brother,” I tell him with a laugh and a pat on the shoulder. Owen grunts in displeasure and Weller ignores us.

The driver takes us toward the coast, singing along with the reggae music playing and the windows cracked. We’re all watching our surroundings.