by Kim Linwood
The squeal of the brakes wakes me, and I sit up confused and blinking. The sleep fog clears quickly once I spot the sign that reads Penn Station. I’m here! Grabbing my backpack, I throw it over my shoulder and race for the door. I didn’t bring much, but enough to stay overnight if I get the chance. I don’t know exactly how I feel about that yet, but I can’t deny it has some appeal.
Okay, a lot of appeal.
It’s my first time in New York, but I hardly notice the crowds, the electronic billboards, the skyscrapers or anything else. Going by the tourist map I grabbed at the station, it’s a short walk to Times Square where we’re supposed to meet. I half walk, half run down 7th Avenue.
The train was on time, so Hunter should be waiting.
The streets are packed with so many people I’m uncomfortable. Tourists are everywhere, and people shove flyers at me no matter where I turn. I scan the sidewalks, craning to see over the manic crush of people with somewhere to go and the stand-still traffic in the streets. How do they deal with this every day?
I glance at my phone. One minute past. Where is he?
We spot each other at about the same time. He pops out of one of the side streets, and my eyes are drawn straight to him. Finally.
Seeing him in the flesh after two years, emotion threatens to overwhelm me, but I force it down. I want him to see me as a confident woman, not a bawling kid. I was right. He’s broader than I remember, not a boy at all anymore. God, he’s nineteen now, and even sexier than I imagined. I miss his long, wild hair, but it looks stylish short. More mature.
Immediately, I throw my hand up and wave. He waves back. I want to rush over, but I stop.
A dark-haired woman comes up beside him. She says something, and he throws his arm around her shoulder, leaning in and giving her a quick kiss on her head. The exchange isn’t passionate, but it cuts me to the core. It’s the casual sort of thing you do with someone you’re comfortable with. Intimate.
I knew there was no guarantee that he’d waited for me. I knew it. But my delusion hadn’t left room for doubt.
They walk up, and she stands behind as he wraps his arms around my sides and lifts me in a huge bear hug. I close my eyes and pretend his arms can hold the broken pieces of my heart together.
“God, I’ve missed you!” He puts me down and grins. “All grown up and turning into a real heartbreaker, I bet.”
I can’t speak yet. I just smile.
“Liz, this is Nina. Nina, Liz.”
We say hi and shake hands. I can see in her eyes that she knows. He can’t see me bleeding, but this beautiful woman in designer clothes who matches him perfectly, is looking at my jeans and discount jacket and I don’t see jealousy. I see compassion.
There will be no need for the overnight bag.
16
Liz
The next morning, I wake up angry.
At the show, at myself, at the gulls who don’t understand my drama and continue to caw their merry little lives away. I growl and hop out of bed, crossing the room to the window. The smell of the ocean slips in, tickling my nose.
Yesterday after the mud wrestling competition, two girls were sent home, and one of my oldest fantasies was realized.
An entire day with Hunter.
It’s not much of a surprise that I ended up dreaming about New York.
I go through the pitiful stash of clothing I brought with me. They gave us some money before the show started to pick up new clothes, but it wasn’t much. Not when you’re starting with next to nothing. I’m going to need help.
Swallowing my pride, I knock on Amanda’s door. The door opens and she steps back. Megan sits on Amanda’s bed, makeup spread out next to her. They look at me coolly, our earlier sense of camaraderie wiped away by my victory.
“Oh, s—sorry,” I stutter.
Amanda stops me as I turn to go back to my room. “Wait… Do you need something?”
“I, um, I won the date with Hunter.”
“Yeah. We were there,” Megan says dryly. “Congratulations.”
“Come on, get in here before someone walks by and starts filming.” Amanda grabs my arm and pulls me into her room. “We were just putting on our war paint before going down to breakfast.”
It stings a little that they didn’t invite me, but I don’t totally blame them. For someone who claims not to be interested in Hunter, I do seem to end up spending an awful lot of time with him. I can’t be honest with them about why I’m here, but I can be honest about why I need their help.
“Listen, I’m so screwed. They told me I’m doing this crazy date thing, but I have nothing to wear. They’re going to pick me up, he’s going to look like a freakin’ billionaire, and the nicest dress I have is the one I went swimming in!” My voice raises as I admit the extent of my problem.
Megan and Amanda look at each other, and Megan bursts out laughing.
“Sorry!” She takes a breath, and they both seem to relax. “It’s just that we were starting to think you had this whole double-agent ‘I’m not a threat’ thing going on.”
“I don’t! I so don’t!” The double-agent part a little maybe, but not the way they’re thinking.
“Yeah, I’m seeing that.”
Amanda looks me over critically. “You’re taller than I am, but size-wise we aren’t that different. Bring your stuff in and we’ll see what we can do.”
A half an hour later, I stand in front of the mirror, amazed. Amanda’s red dress is supposed to fall almost to the knees, but on me it skims my thighs. Not high enough to look trashy, but I’ll have to watch how I sit. Fortunately my shoes are a decent match, because I have giant clown feet compared to the two of them.
I touch my lips, and brush my hand over my hair. “You are a wizard.”
Megan beams. “I know. You should think about a different foundation. This one matches your skin alright, but something paler might go better with your hair.”
I nod. She’s right, but the red is going as soon as I’m done. It’s pretty, but it’s not me.
“Okay, let’s go down before they steal all the food.” Amanda smiles. “Maybe we didn’t win, but showing up with you should get us a little more camera time.”
Breakfast is in the dining room today, the terrace being off-limits while they’re setting up for the start of my date. I should eat, but my stomach is in knots. Absentmindedly, I nibble at a croissant that’s so buttery and sweet I regret not being in a mood to enjoy it. It sure beats the yogurt cups they served on the plane flying down.
It seems like no time at all when Blaze walks in and tells me it’s time for my date. Closing my eyes, I let out a deep breath, then stand to follow him. Megan and Amanda don’t exactly seem excited to see me go, but at least they give me little waves as I leave the table. I think they might be the only two who don’t look like they want a tree to randomly fall on me.
I step out onto the terrace and Hunter is already here. I stop, my feet glued to the well-worn grey stones.
He looks amazing.
Standing there, relaxed with his suit jacket hanging over his arm, and his crisp white shirt tucked into perfectly tailored pants that cling to his hips and show off his muscular legs. A button is open at his neck, and the whole look screams carelessly rich. Hunter’s dirty-blonde hair is tamed, except for a single lock that hangs willfully over his ear. A bouquet of red roses lies on the table next to him.
He hasn’t seen me yet, and I watch him nod, deep in an animated conversation with one of the crew. His broad smile crinkles the corners of his sharp blue eyes, a dimple standing out in his left cheek. It’s a smile that feels so familiar, but still completely new. The tingle that rushes down my spine to kindle a delicious heat at my core has nothing to do with my teenage infatuation, and everything to do with right now.
I can’t have him, but God, do I want him.
My goal hasn’t changed, but I want to rage against the world that put us on opposite sides. We can’t both own this island, and once he knows who I am
and what I’m doing, he won’t want anything to do with me.
Hunter looks up and sees me. The full force of his smile takes my breath away. He picks up the bouquet and brings it over as the camera crew hurry to get him in frame. “These are nowhere as beautiful as you, but there aren’t enough flowers on the island for that. Maybe not in the world.”
I blush at his cheesy words, hiding my crazy grin behind the roses as I bring them to my face. Sweet and overpowering, just like him.
Quick. Say something. “Nice line, did Blaze write it for you?”
He laughs. “Not this time. Surprised?” He holds out his arm for me.
After a moment’s hesitation, I take it. “A little.”
“Believe it or not, I can be charming when I set my mind to it.”
Of that I have absolutely no doubt. Too charming for my own good.
Our moment can’t last. The camera people close in, having gotten their shot of the pretty girl swooning over the handsome man.
“So where are we going on this mystery date?”
“I was thinking we could go kayaking…” He trails off with a grin.
I laugh in spite of myself. “I’d say we’re not dressed for swimming, but that didn’t stop us before.”
He winks. “True, but how about we skip it anyway?” Leaning in to whisper, his gaze travels down my body, undressing me with his eyes. “Unless maybe we could go skinny dipping.”
“Tempting…” I wear my flush proudly, and give him an equally lusty once-over. “But I hear you shouldn’t swim right after eating.”
Clear blue eyes shining with heat, he laughs. “I think that depends entirely on what it is you’re eating.” He might be teasing, but it’s not just teasing.
Hunter Campbell wants me. Even with all the pretty girls around, he wants me.
I close my eyes for a moment to center myself. I’m in control. I’m in control. If I say it enough times, I might believe it. Looking up through heavy lashes, I find him watching me.
I’m so not in control.
17
Hunter
She’s gorgeous. Fucking amazing.
I just wish I could trust her.
I didn’t expect Liz to win yesterday, and from the look on her mud-splattered face, neither did she. Bianca probably thought she had it in the bag, and she would’ve if wasn’t for an unlucky fall. Can’t say that I’m upset about it. Bianca looks like she’d eat me alive. Smart, beautiful, and ruthless.
Not necessarily bad qualities, but we don’t fucking know each other. She doesn’t give a shit about me. She just wants to grind the competition into the mud. Literally.
Megan did pretty well and would’ve been a fun date. She’s cute as hell and seems like a great girl. Too bad we have about as much chemistry as dishwater. She seems to be in it for the fun anyway, and I can appreciate that.
Which leaves me with Liz. Sorry, Sarah.
The only one I care about, and the one I most need to watch like a hawk. Whatever she’s up to, she’s not the only one with a plan. I’ll get the story out of her one way or another.
Her touch on my arm as I walk her towards the back of the house is soft, barely holding on, but it burns like a brand even through my shirt. If the show planted her here to add more drama, wouldn’t she play it up every chance she got? I know she’s attracted to me, but every time we really get close, she starts to pull away.
Afraid of getting found out, maybe. Or guilty.
I pat her hand and smile down at her. “I figured we’d take a short trip, and see where that brings us.”
She glances up with those uncanny green eyes, and her grip tightens. If I didn’t know her, I’d probably think they were pretty, but they aren’t the ones I want to see.
“On our own?” Liz looks back over her shoulder, probably looking for the camera people. “Just the two of us?”
“I promise not to bite. Much.”
“Oooh, the big bad wolf.”
“Afraid I might eat you up, little girl?” I growl.
Her cheeks turn a sexy shade of pink. She opens her mouth to respond, then looks around. “Wait… For real, where are we going?”
The stone path we’re following curves around, and the trees part. In front of us is the new dock I use to moor my private seaplane. Frank is getting it ready, and a cameraman is waiting, filming us as we step out of the jungle. “Well, we have the whole day ahead of us. I figured a tour of the area would be a good place to start, and what better way to do it than with a bird’s eye view?”
Her hand tightens on my arm. “Boats. Boats are nice too. What about a nice boat ride?”
She might not like flying, but she managed to get here alright, so she can do it again. It’ll be worth it. “Nervous?”
“Of course not.” Liz looks like if I make a sudden move, she’ll bolt.
“A lot of people get nervous about small planes. They’re really very safe though, and I assure you, it’s very well maintained.”
She nods, a little green around the edges. “Right.”
We walk onto the pier and I stop, standing in front of her. I cup her chin in my hands, and force her to look up at me. “You trusted me before, remember? I won’t let you fall. I promise.”
Liz blanches. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve never—”
“Babe, I flew you down here.” I’d laugh if she wasn’t looking so panicked.
“Oh, right. Yeah.” She starts breathing again, and I do chuckle a little, which earns me a glare.
Frank Dobson pats me on the shoulder as he walks past, but he speaks to Liz. “Don’t worry, Miss. She’s good to go, and our boy here knows his way around the clouds.”
Liz stares at him like she’s seen a ghost. A lot of the staff has changed since she lived here, but she had to be ready to see some familiar faces. Still, must be strange.
Green or brown, her eyes still hide nothing. I can practically watch the gears turn in Liz’s brain as she locks everything down and decides to fly with me. I step up first, and hold out my hand to help her. She hesitates, but puts her slender fingers on mine. Eyeing the plane skeptically, she lets me help her over onto the pontoon next to me. She takes a moment to adjust to the gentle rocking before she grabs the handle with her other hand, and pulls herself up into the plane.
The cameraman films her climbing up, and I shoot him a nasty look. I don’t like that he’s making sure to get a close-up on her ass, or the grin I see behind the camera. That’s supposed to be my view.
Liz settles into the copilot seat while I get ready to go. Maybe it’s been a while, but she buckles up and adjusts the chair on her own. The cameraman settles in one of the back seats, and once everyone is secured, I start the plane. She grips the seat so hard her knuckles turn white, but doesn’t say a word.
The waters are smooth as glass, and there’s hardly even a breeze, so I just taxi until I’m clear of the pier, then open the throttle. The plane shakes and lurches, but nothing significant. At least for me.
Liz whimpers.
“Trust me?”
She nods.
I start a running commentary of what will probably be the most boring TV in history. Every light, every button, every switch. I tell her step by step what’s happening as the plane tears itself from the water, and the bottoms fall out of our stomachs.
She’s tense the whole way up but focuses on my words. By the time we’re at cruising altitude, her hands are relaxed, resting in her lap. Still breathing quickly, her chest rises and falls. It’s a good thing the camera is filming from behind, because I’m not fucking sharing the way her breasts swell up against the front of her dress as she pants.
I’m glad something’s squeezing them, but I wish it was me.
Liz coughs. “Um, shouldn’t you be watching where we’re going?”
Busted. There’s a mix of frost and humor in her words.
I look up to her face and grin. I’m many things, but shy about my appreciation of a pretty girl isn’t
one of them. Even when she used to be my stepsister. “No worries, the autopilot is on. Look, Ma, no hands.”
I take my hands off the stick and lean back in my seat.
“What are you doing? Put your hands back, right now,” she shrieks.
I grab one of her hands and put it on the stick. She’s trembling. “I told you, autopilot.”
My hand covers hers, and I stroke the soft inside of her arm with my thumb. She doesn’t pull away.
“Just—don’t let go, okay.”
“I won’t.”
She could take her hand away at any point, but she leaves it there for a long while.
We have quite a bit of time to kill, so I take us around the islands. She pretends not to know anything about the area, so I humor her by rambling on about local landmarks. Past St. Martin, back around over The Bottom, back up to the British Virgin Islands, over Richard Branson’s private island, a quick flyover of Frederick Island, then eventually heading west.
Liz listens and asks questions, but she focuses on things that are new or have changed. I’m dying to ask her if it’s like she remembers it.
The radio crackles as the San Juan flight tower comes in. Liz glances at me when I reply in what I think is pretty passable Spanish. I’ve improved a lot the last few years. Is she impressed? She used to show off all the time when we were teenagers, using it whenever she could to exclude me from conversations.
Anyway, conditions are relaxed here and I’ve been by a bunch of times. They know me, and our dialogue is quick. I’m not landing at the airport, so it was just a check to see what my plans are. The place we’re headed to is on the water, and there’s room to set down right outside.
I bank the plane gently. She takes a quick breath, but this time instead of panic, her eyes light with wonder. Below us, the island of Puerto Rico spreads out. Rich green forest broken up by small towns, and further down, San Juan. We’re not heading for the city, but a small place just down the coast. Few know that it exists, and even fewer can afford it, but it’s been serving the wealthy all over the region for decades. Liz used to love it there.
