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“In that case, you’re back to sleeping on the floor,” she coos.

“More motivation to get back in your bed,” I whisper as I catch a loose strand of her hair to tuck behind her ear.

“You wish.” She laughs.

I do wish.

In another section of the festival, we watch a dance demonstration. I’m not Hawaiian or Polynesian, but I lived here long enough when I was younger to learn a few moves. I show off my suave hip-rolling techniques and bump Sophia’s shoulder to mine. My dancing may not be as shocking as a handful of ice down the back, but I’m starting to think I affect her too.

“You’re blushing, Sparkles.” I pop my hips in time with the music.

“No, I’m not. I’m just thinking.”

When the corners of her lips tip upward, I realize something important. It’s another tell. She’s about to drop a jab. And knowing a good ribbing is coming makes my lips press tight with anticipation. I’m impatient for it.

“About?” I ask.

“You’re lucky you can cook, because your dancing is questionable.” Her smile widens.

For me. I’ve never been so blinded by plump lips, sparkling teeth, and a mouth that never stops sassing.

“Did you just admit you like my cooking?” I gasp.

“Never.” She beams again, but this time the smile reaches her eyes, creating starbursts at the edges.

My heart swims with excitement. At the same time, I’d be disappointed if she didn’t continue our hate-charade. I think that’s exactly what it is. A charade. Because I think Sophia Sinclair likes me. At least, she’s starting to . . . a tiny bit.

And now I can’t stop smiling.

I drop my hand to her lower back and lead her to a group of large wooden tiki sculptures. As we circle them, admiring the carved figurines and geometric patterns, I lift my attention to the crowd. My smile falters with my steps.

Not far away, someone I’d never thought I’d see appears. He tugs a younger woman by the hand. The jerk has far too much swagger in an outfit suited for a raccoon, and the scumbag is walking this way.

“Shit.” I rush to Sophia’s side.

She’s engrossed in a conversation with a local historian. She hasn’t noticed the man yet, but if I don’t do something quickly, she will.

24/

sophia

Be The Pineapple

“I’m so sorry. Excuse us.” Gio hooks his arm with mine and swings me away from the woman sharing a story about Queen Liliuokalani, the last reigning monarch of Hawaii.

“Gio, I wasn’t done talking to Mrs. Lono.” I glance over my shoulder to mouth an apology, but she’s already chatting with someone new. Annoyed at not hearing the entire history lesson, I tug my arm away.

“This is really important.” He gestures to a line of people.

“What is?” Arms spread wide, I glance around and try to make sense of the abrupt relocation, but then I remember why I’m here.

“Is it Adam?” I ask, eager to understand, but as best I can tell, there’s no sign of an impromptu dance party.

“Not quite.”

A line of people steps aside, revealing a long table. Staff with matching T-shirts sit behind it with overly cheery expressions. A woman waves us forward.

“Aloha! Signing up for the next contest?” she asks.