Page 37 of From Wink to Kink

As he glances my way, he pushes his hair off his face. "Well, yeah. We're in the middle of a rainforest. The bugs were here first. We can’t just make them go away. These suckers come out at night. Apparently. Guess that’s when we humans are supposed to stayin."

I know he's right. But logic has no place in a world where mosquitoes the size of small birds are eyeing me like I'm an all-you-can-eat buffet.

To my horror, I feel tears welling up in my eyes. This is too much. The mix-up with the retreat, sharing a room with Chuck, and now this bug situation. I'm at my breaking point.

"Hey," Chuck says, noticing my distress. "It's okay. They can't get through the netting. We're safe in here."

I sniffle, hating how pathetic I must sound. "I know. It's just... it's all so much."

To my surprise, I feel Chuck's hand reach across the pillow barrier, gently taking mine. His palm is warm. I like it, and my anxiety melts a little.

"I know," he says, his voice low and soothing. "This whole situation is crazy. But hey, look on the bright side. At least we're not dealing with it alone, right?"

I look at him, really look at him, for what feels like the first time. In the dim light from our phones, I can see the sincerity in his eyes, the curve of his smile. For a moment, I forget about the bugs, about the retreat mix-up, about everything except the warmth of my hand in his.

He’s a nice guy.

"Yeah," I whisper back, managing a small smile.

We stay like that for a while, hands linked across the pillow barrier, surrounded by the soft buzz of our uninvited guests. It's weird and uncomfortable and strangely consoling all at once.

As I feel myself drifting off to sleep, a traitorous thought crosses my mind. Maybe, just maybe, I don't want to leave tomorrow after all.

But that's probably just the sleep deprivation and bug-induced hysteria talking. Right?

The last thing I hear before sleep claims me is Chuck's soft voice.

"Goodnight, Ruby. Try not to let the bedbugs bite... or any of their giant cousins out there."

I can't help but chuckle, the tension of the evening falling away, if only temporarily. As I drift off, I'm uber-aware of Chuck's presence beside me, his hand still holding mine.

And as sleep finally overtakes me, I realize that maybe, just maybe, this unexpected turn of events isn't the worst thing that could have happened. After all, if I have to be trapped in a bug-infested paradise with someone, Chuck Newcomb might not be the worst company.

Not that I’ll ever admit that out loud. At least, not while I'm fully conscious.

17

RUBY

I waketo the morning light filtering through the mosquito netting and for a moment, I'm disoriented. Where am I? Then it all comes rushing back—the retreat mix-up, the shared bed, the bug invasion.

Speaking of which, I cautiously investigate the netting. To my relief, our unwelcome visitors have departed, at least for the daylight hours. Small mercies.

I wonder where they all go?

I turn my head to find myself face to face with a sleeping Chuck Newcomb. His features are soft, almost boyish. A lock of his long hair lays splays his forehead, and I resist the urge to brush it off. His eyelashes flutter slightly, and I wonder what he's dreaming about.

Wait. What am I doing? I shake my head, trying to dislodge these ridiculous thoughts. This is Chuck, for crying out loud. Annoying, arrogant, admittedly handsome Chuck. Hockey star, barroom brawler, and lady killer.

Also, friend of my big brother.

All good reasons to be completely allergic to this man. Nothing good could possibly come from hanging out with him.

Carefully, I extricate myself from the bed, wincing as the mattress creaks. Chuck stirs but doesn't wake. With my back to the bed, I pull on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and tiptoe out of the bungalow.

The morning air is heavy with humidity, but it’s slightly cooler than the night before. That’s somehow refreshing, a term I’d never thought I’d use when drowning in jungle stickiness. I make my way to the front desk, rehearsing what I'll say.Hi, there's been a terrible mistake. I need to book the first flight back to San Francisco, please.

But when I arrive, the desk is deserted. A small sign informs me that staff won't be available until 9 a.m. I check my phone. 7:30. Great.

---