But for him to be thoughtless and unkind…

I don’t know what to think anymore.

Which means it’s time tostopthinking. I wish I’d brought my camera after all. At least then I could throw myself back into work. But I don’t want to risk going back because I don’t want to see Jensen. Even less do I want to speak to him.

If my best friend Ella were here right now, she’d be having a ball. She’s the kind of person whodoeskeep up with celebrity gossip,and often she’s the one who tells me about TV or sports or movie stars. She’s always telling me how out of date I am, and she’s right.

It’s not easy to keep up with all that ephemera when you’re busy traveling the world. And I know which one I’d rather do.

If she knew I had just slept with Jensen —PrinceJensen!

I hug my knees into my chest, staring out at the ocean. Maybe it would be worth taking him home early. It’s not like I want to cut my trip short, but the idea of another few days here with him is hardly appealing.

Eventually, the sun makes my shoulders feel like they’re blistering, and all the tears in me have been spent. I scrub my eyes, breathe the fresh, salt air in deep, and make a decision. I have to go back to work.

And to do that, I need my camera.

When I get back to the cabin, it’s quiet. Maybe Jensen has gone out too. I would like that. That means I don’t have to look at him.

I left my camera in the communal area, and I rush to snatch it up. There’s still no sight or sound of Jensen, so I fumble to grab my case and head back out into the wilderness.

And then, the second I step out the door, he’s there.

“Billie.” He smiles, and it’s so hard not to cave to him here and now.

“Please, Jensen. Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he says, getting up from where he’s crouched by the fire pit.

By the looks of it, he’s been out getting stuff for a fire. I guess he wants to try and do things for me, like he’s trying to apologize. He really is like a child. It’s as if he thinks that if he finds and shows me a shiny enough pebble, it’ll make everything all better.

It doesn’t matter that he’s right. At the moment, I need time to process everything that’s happened.

“Don’t give me that look. I don’t want to talk right now.”

He takes another step towards me, his hands slightly outstretched, then he hesitates and falls back. “Okay,” he says quietly. “You’re going to take photos?”

“Yes.”

For a second, I think he’s going to ask if he can come too, and I grit my teeth in preparation to say no, but then he just smiles again. “Okay. We can talk later?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

He nods in acceptance, and I can’t help but notice the sad glimmer behind his eyes.

It would be so, so easy to forgive him. If I did, I could fall back into his arms and pretend he still wanted me. I’m sure he would take me — it’s not like he has any other girls to flirt with on this island. We could have a beautiful island fling. It could be passionate and perfect and intimate. It could be sunsets together and swimming in the lake. It could be sea turtles and forest walks and paradise.

Suddenly it clicks. That’s why I’m so mad with him. It isn’t really the lie, and I think I do believe he meant everything he said about me. It’s not the fact that he’s a prince that bothers me.

It’s the fact that I thought we were making something that could last beyond our little slice of heaven. And all along, he knew that could never be.

Before he can say anything else, I grimace at him and march back off into the forest. I don’t know how much longer I can remain strong if he keeps giving me that look.

Usually, the best part of my job is the fact that I get to spend great portions of the day all by myself, sitting still, thinking about all sorts of things. Which is the opposite of what I want to be doing today. I need to find something that’s going to engage me. I need to take some pictures that make me focus on that, and that alone.

So, I head off to search for some insects. They always require concentration to find.

I more or less succeed as I waste time through the afternoon. I stumble across some pretty spiders, spend an hour chasing down a butterfly, and follow a buzzing all the way to a nest of bees.