by Piper Lennox
“I didn’t know what else to do.” I pour the alcohol into her coffee, then hold up the whipped cream from the fridge. She nods. I add a mountain of the stuff to the mug, then pass it to her just as she slides her credit card my way. I check out the name as I swipe: Tanya King.
“Tanya.” I hand it back. “You look familiar.”
“Probably because I’m the girl,” she laughs, as she whisks off some whipped cream with her pinky, “who interrupted your moment with Mollie last night.” Somehow, I can tell all these flirty things she does are just part of who she is—she’s not flirting with me. At least, not for her own gain. “Sorry.”
“Um...that’s okay.” I busy myself with a sticky spot on the bar that I know won’t wipe away; Luka and I have tried for months. “I mean, I don’t even know her.”
“Do you want to?”
I look at her again.
“She gets out of the hospital this afternoon, you know. If you’re interested.”
“I’m not. Which isn’t anything against her—I’m just saying, I only waited at the hospital because I was worried.” I open the prep box and take a cherry, but don’t eat it. “I’ve seen people drown. It’s scary.”
Tanya gets quiet. I hear her sipping her drink, swiveling her barstool back and forth.
“Thank you,” she says, after a long silence. When I look at her again, she’s gotten up, already heading down the dunes. “She’s like a sister to me, so…I’m really glad you were there to save her.”
Something in my chest unknots, and I relax. “You’re welcome.”
It’s not until later, when I realize I haven’t bussed Tanya’s empty mug yet, that I notice the slip of paper she left behind.
“Mollie,” it reads. “214. Likes flowers.”
Mollie
“So you don’t remember anything before that?”
I squint into the sun as we leave the hospital. Tanya picked me up in a town car (courtesy of the resort, I assume in an attempt to make sure I don’t sue), and as we climb into the back, I repeat, “Not a thing. One minute, I’m walking on the beach with Damian, and the next thing I know Kai’s giving me mouth-to-mouth on the sand.”
This phrase elicits a bunch of crude noises from her, which I ignore when I notice the complimentary champagne in the ice bucket in front of us. The thought of alcohol still makes my head pound.
“And I was very, very drunk,” I add. “That’s what I remember the most.”
“Well, Damian probably knows what happened. We’ll ask him.”
“I don’t know.” For some reason, I feel like things are weird between Damian and me. Well, weirder than they usually are: awkward is normal when it comes to our dynamic. But I’ve got a tight feeling in my stomach I can’t shake, like we got in a fight or something.
Our hotel room is filled with free stuff: gift baskets from local companies, balloons, and at least four vases of exotic-looking flowers. “The resort’s really going out of their way to make sure I don’t sue, huh?”
Carrie and Macy, who are busy digging through a basket of chocolate, nod. “The owner’s been by twice already to ‘extend his deepest regret in person,’” Macy says. “This place has some deep pockets.”
“Well, maybe not this place, exactly. But definitely Paradise Port: vacations the way they should be,” Carrie adds, singing the company’s jingle.
“This is so stupid.” I read the card on one arrangement. “Our sincerest apologies.” “It isn’t their fault. I got drunk and went swimming, like an idiot.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Tanya hands me a shot, which I immediately hand back.
“Tan, seriously.”
“Fine. Too soon, I get it.” She takes both shots herself.
“The boys want us to meet them downstairs.” Carrie holds up her phone, where we can see she’s been texting Ted non-stop. “Dinner to celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?” I scoff. “Me almost dying like a moron?”
“Yes,” they all answer at once. I roll my eyes and head into my room to change.
Finally alone for the first time in hours, I take a minute to look at myself in the mirror. I don’t look like I almost died. I don’t feel any different, either, except for this strange suspicion that I’m forgetting something I shouldn’t.
Tanya brought me fresh clothes at the hospital, but my dress from last night is still in a plastic bag, cut in half by the paramedics. I open up the bag and cringe at the slight mildew smell.
Raveled with that, though, is the scent of the ocean. It makes me remember it all again: the burning in my lungs, the urge to breathe so strong, even when my brain knew better. The moon slicing through the water. The pull of the waves.
Someone—Kai—looping his arm around me, just in time.
How sturdy his chest felt when he was carrying me, the sight of his stubble as I stared and tried to make sense of what was happening. Even in the hospital room, with his nervous pauses and hands shoved in his pockets, he was cute.
“Hurry up, woman!” Macy shouts, banging on my door. “I’m starving.”
“Cut me some slack! I almost drowned.”
The three of them burst into laughter. I throw the hospital bag in the trash, casting off the memories with it as best I can, and change.
“All right, bitches,” I shout, flinging open my door, “let’s go—”
My feet lock into place when I see Kai standing there in the living room, holding a single flower, its stem wrapped in a wet paper towel.
“Hi,” I manage, and shoot a death glare at the girls before they vanish into the other bedroom.
“Hi.” He shrugs, like he’s not sure why he’s here, either. “I, uh...just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“Ah. The resort send you up?”
“No, no. Just me, promise.” He motions to the flower as I take it. “That’s a hibiscus. My mom grows them.” Kai looks around the suite, taking in the vases. “Of course, I didn’t think about the fact you’d have a floral shop up here already.”
I laugh and put the flower in an abandoned water glass on the coffee table. “I love it,” I assure him. “Thank you. It means a lot more than all these hush gifts from the company. No offense.”
“None taken.”
The pause that follows is so tense, I can’t stop my inner idiot from emerging. “I’m not, by the way,” I blurt. “Going to sue.”
“Oh.” He studies the floor, then nods. “Um. Good.”
God, I’m so bad at this.
“Thank you,” I say again, “for saving me. I didn’t realize, in the hospital.... You’d already left, and I felt bad I didn’t say it then—”
“It’s totally fine. Really. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
I glance at the closed bedroom door, where I’m sure the girls are listening. I could kill them right now.
“My next shift starts soon,” he says, looking at his wrist. There’s no watch, but we both nod anyway, grateful for the tension to end. “If you have time later, I’ll be at the poolside bar till two a.m.”
Time for what, exactly? I decide not to ask. First things first: I need to talk to Damian and figure out what the hell happened last night, and how I managed to wander off like a lost, drunken lamb.
Still, I humor him. “Sure. I’ll see you around.”
“See you.” He looks at the bedroom door, too, and gives me a wave before slipping out into the hallway. I don’t realize I’m blushing until the girls come out and tease me mercilessly, all the way to the lobby.
Six
Kai
When the door to Mollie’s suite shuts behind me, I let out a breath. There’s something about her that makes me nervous, and I don’t know what. Maybe I should just pin it on the trauma of saving a half-dead girl.
Down at the poolside bar, I nod at P.J. and Jake, stuck on this shift with me. They’re already swamped, so I grab an apron and jump in.
As much as I hate working at the resort, I actually like bartending. There’s some
thing nice about compressed chaos: a few hours where you’re in the weeds, running on autopilot as you take orders, pour, mix, serve, and repeat. I don’t even mind the same old conversation with tourists about what it’s like to live and work in Hawaii, what’s in the Island Punch, do you have mainland beers, etc. The unending rush makes time nonexistent, until it’s suddenly over and you feel a weird calmness, like you just stepped out of a sauna.
The best part: you don’t have time or energy to think about anything else.
When the rush finally dies, I have about two hours left in the shift. P.J. is flirting with a tourist—not in the “good for business” way, but real—while Jake loads the dishwasher with Tetris-esque ability.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says, and I brace myself for the question I know is coming, “did you really save that guest down on the beach, yesterday?”
“Oh, God,” I mutter. I can’t get away from it.
Jake laughs. “Take that as a yes.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Hey, I was just gonna tell you nice job, man.” He kicks the dishwasher shut and wipes his hands on his apron. It’s streaked with every color of the rainbow. Jake’s got a generous pour, but a messy one, too. “Pretty heroic shit.”
“It was nothing. Anyone would’ve done the same, if they’d been out there.”
“Most people wouldn’t have been looking in the first place,” he says. His tone is more serious, now, and even I have to shrug in agreement. He’s probably right.
Bar traffic has thinned; the bulk of our orders come from the ticker, put in by servers that roam the pool deck and outdoor seating for the restaurant. They used to manually put in orders at the indoor bar, while we were for walk-up customers only. We now have twice the drinks to make on any given day—but it is a better arrangement, I’ll give it that.
“You like the new system?” Jake asks, tearing off another Drink of the Day ticket. “Luka thought it up.”
This surprises me. Luka isn’t usually one to show initiative. “He did?”
“Yeah. He pitched it to the guys upstairs and they went crazy. There’s a rumor they’re changing all the Paradise locations to it, pretty soon.” He shoots me a look. “He didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head, trying not to show that I’m kind of hurt. Maybe it’s my fault he didn’t tell me. Whenever anything to do with the resort expanding or improving comes up, I roll my eyes and tune it out.
“Do me a favor,” he says, as he counts the wine left in the fridge, “grab me another...four moscatos and...two noirs from the kitchen, would you? I’ll finish up those daiquiris.”
“You sure?” I ask, but I’m already letting go of the blender, all too happy to be sent on an errand. The second Jake nods, I’m gone.
The face of the resort is lit up like it’s early evening instead of midnight. Music pumps from the restaurant patio; people laugh and chat, cameras flashing like a storm.
I used to like being part of people’s vacations. When we were just half a mile of beach and cabanas with a big lodge, a little bar, and a couple hot tubs, it was fun. I saw customers propose, elope, renew their vows. We helped spring breakers and new grads have a good time. We toasted couples on their fiftieth wedding anniversaries, just as in love as ever.
For a week or two at a time, we were part of people’s families. A lot of customers came back yearly, in fact, and had seen us grow up, knew our names, and even brought us gifts from the mainland.
Back then, we didn’t have a PR department. We didn’t have an infinity pool, or a deejay, or a resort hashtag displayed at every table. We still had servers, payroll, all that: it wasn’t a small business. But it did feel like a family one, at least.
The restaurant kitchen bustles with closing tasks. No one notices me as I grab a wine box and fill it with bottles, then stroll out like I own the place. Which someday, unfortunately, I will.
Jake is talking to a guest when I approach, the wine tucked under my arm. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but Jake points at me. The girl turns.
It’s Mollie.
“Hey.” I’m surprised by how happy I am to see her, even though I have no idea why. At least, I’m happy until I see her face. It kind of looks like she’s been crying.
Even so, she smiles. “Hey. You want to go do something?”
Mollie
Dinner started innocently enough.
Despite my apparent brush with death, I wasn’t feeling as bold as Tanya thought I should. When she motioned for me to sit near Damian, I ignored her and sat across the table, instead.
It was all girls on one side, with the twins, Damian, and James on the other. Naturally, Ted and Carrie were side-by-side, probably playing footsie—and a little more than that—under the table.
“Let’s get champagne,” Ian said, ordering a bottle before anyone could agree or disagree. When the tray arrived, I watched the liquid splash into my glass and fought my gag reflex. Alcohol hadn’t been kind to me in the last twenty-four hours.
“To Mollie,” Tanya smiled, nudging me as she raised her glass, “and Kai.”
“Here, here!” Carrie echoed, as everyone tapped their crystal together over the seashell centerpiece. I let the champagne graze my lips, but didn’t take a sip. No one noticed.
“Kai?” Ted asked.
“The guy who saved her,” Carrie explained. “He works here, actually. Right, Moll?”
“That’s what he said.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Damian staring at his silverware, silent.
I still couldn’t remember what happened between our walk on the beach, and waking up in the hospital. And with our entire friend group hell-bent on celebrating my survival—or, at least, using my survival as an excuse to get wasted—it looked like I would have to wait for some alone time with him to figure it out.
Halfway through dinner, I saw my window. Ted and Carrie snuck off to his room, James was smoking a cigarette with Ian, and Tanya, effortlessly understanding my eye contact, asked Macy to join her in the bathroom. Within seconds, our crowd had dwindled to two.
Damian bit his lip. “So,” he said.
I nodded. “So.”
He got up and took the chair beside me. Our hands brushed, but it was strange: I didn’t feel a jolt of nervousness, like I normally would.
“We need to talk about what happened last night,” he said, voice low. “I feel really bad about it.”
“Why? It was my own stupid fault.”
“I should have gone after you. It wasn’t right, letting you run off when I knew you were upset, and you’d been drinking....” He paused, looking at me from under those blond curls. It was a move that usually made me weak, even when it wasn’t directed at me. But right then, I was too confused to swoon.
“Upset? Why was I upset?”
Damian tilted his head, like he wasn’t sure if I was tricking him or not. “You don’t remember?”
“No. We were drinking at the bar here, then we walked on the beach, then...that’s it.”
“So our conversation,” he said, squinting at me, “the one we had before you ran off, you don’t remember that at all.”
How many times did I have to say it? “No,” I repeated firmly. “Why? What happened?”
He sat back in his chair and sighed, blowing his hair off his forehead. I watched his fingers pull at a thread in the tablecloth; he was trying not to look at me. “You, uh...you kind of...kissed me.”
My brain reeled through about a thousand curse words, but none left my mouth. I was speechless, because it didn’t sound like something I would do. Then again, neither did diving into the ocean in the middle of the night. Thanks a lot, Drunk Mollie.
“Oh,” I said finally. “I’m...sorry?”
He gave a breathy laugh, so I did, too. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have gone down to the beach with you. I mean, I know how you feel about me.”
“You....” My face stung. I was probably as pink as those watermelon shooters Tanya kept s
linging back. “You know?”
Damian nodded and stared into his lap. “Yeah.”
We were quiet for too long. I grabbed my champagne, now flat, and drank. “So I’m guessing,” I said slowly, “that means you don’t feel the same way.”
He shifted in his chair. “It does…but not because of you. God, I hate having to do this again.”
There was something really odd about this moment. I should have felt destroyed, having just heard the biggest crush of my life tell me he didn’t like me back.
But I wasn’t. It hurt, but not nearly as much as it should have.
“I’m gay,” he blurted, pulling me from my thoughts. When I locked my eyes on his, he glanced over at the crowd by the pool, instead. “And when I told you that the first time, it didn’t exactly go over well.”
Finally, I could piece something together, here. As soon as he said it, my mind synced it up with last night, the same words.
“You’re gay,” I repeated.
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“But....” I shook my head. “But I know you liked me back. I mean, at least once.”
He let me take the untouched vodka and soda in front of him, its ice melted. “Not like that, Mollie. I like you as a friend, but...but I can’t like you back the way you like me.”
“Right, gay, I get it.” My head was pounding after only two drinks, anger building up behind the bridge of my nose, out to my temples. I felt cheated, embarrassed.
“Mollie, it’s—”
“So I ran away,” I clarified, “because I was...upset that you’re gay?” Again, I shook my head. Okay, so my crush on Damian was all-consuming. And I could be a bit pathetic, when things with him didn’t go as planned...which was always. But running away, all because he came out? That didn’t sound right.
“No,” I said softly. I wasn’t buying it. “Something else happened.” Now, I remembered the kiss: how the first time, I faltered and landed against his chest. He asked me if I remembered....
“Homecoming.”
“What?”
“Homecoming. You asked me if I remembered that night, sophomore year. We were at the game, and you came up to me, and we....” I paused, sure he could recall the rest. No need to fill him in there. “And after you asked me if I remembered, I said yes...and that’s when I kissed you.”
