Page 27 of On the Beat

When I get back to the beach house, a few drops of rain spattering the windshield and threatening the first signs of a storm, I’m surprised to find the beach house nearly empty. Paulo is standing in the kitchen, putting canned goods into a suitcase. “Can you help me carry this to the car?”

My stomach churns at the implications of the scenario in front of me. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to where the storm blew through in Cebu, as part of a relief team. You and Ryder are staying here.” He shakes his head.

“Are you… Is it going to be safe?” I chew on my lower lip. I just got here and started connecting with my family. Now, Paulo is leaving? And going into what could be a pretty dangerous situation?

He shrugs. “It’s been a few days, so things might have settled down. But I have family there on my dad’s side, too, and I want to make sure they’re all okay.”

I clutch my hands in front of me, wringing my fingers. “Who’s going to make sure you’re okay?”

“I’m a doctor. You don’t have to worry about me, Isla. This is my responsibility.” He clears his throat. “Please don’t kill Ryder or burn anything down while I’m away.”

“We’ll try.” I almost feel like I’m a kid again and my parents are leaving me and my siblings alone in the apartment. “It sucks that you’re going. It feels like we just got to reconnect… and now you’re going.”

“I know.” His eyes are tense with worry. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in this house before you know it.”

I take a deep breath and nod. “Stay safe.”

As I watch Paulo drive away, I go upstairs and out of habit, reach for my notebook. It should just be a work notebook. But it isn’t. It’s everything–every thought I’ve had in the last five years since moving to L.A., music-related or work-related or even just personal.

And it’s missing.

Maybe I didn’t leave it on the desk. Maybe it’s somewhere else.

I turn over the bedsheets, check under the bed, and even try lifting the furniture. All to no avail.

Just as I open the bathroom door to see if I left it in there, I stop an inch short of Ryder Black, nearly hitting him with the door. Why is he only wearing a towel? This sort of behaviour should only be reserved for, I don’t know, frat boys in coed dorms. Maybe he was one. Though, he doesn’t seem like the frat boy type.

“Excuse me.”

“You’re excused.” He tries to sidestep me.

I keep the door between us, trying to keep my voice level. “Have you seen a red notebook that was in my room?”

“You’re askingmeif I’ve seenyourthings?” There’s more to his tone than the usual automatic dismissiveness of everything I say. It’s… It almost sounds like defensiveness. Like he has something to hide. “Trust me, I’m no stalker.”

Is it just me, or is the subtext of that line,unlike you?

I’m about to let him pass, when I stick my head around the corner and peer into his room. A red rectangle sits on his bed.

He was in my room and he took my notebook.

And now he’s lying to my face about it.

I shove the door open and ignore his yelp of surprise as it nearly smacks him in the face. Stalking down the hall, I rescue my beloved notebook and put it into my purse. “You’re a terrible liar, Ryder Black.”

“I could say the same for you, Isla Romero.”

We’re going to be alone together in the same house for God knows how long.

I apologize to Paulo in my head because I’m pretty sure one of us might just kill the other.

Chapter 14: Ryder Black

Waves crash against the shore as I lie on a cabana, watching the children and families play on the beach. It should be idyllic. Instead, I’m frantically dialing Paulo, wondering how he’s been in the few days since he left the house to go be part of the storm’s relief efforts.

“How are you doing? How’s everything been?” I ask Paulo over the phone. Guilt seeps through me. I’m here, enjoying a vacation, while my best friend is helping people and actually doing something important. Then again, I’m the one who chose not to go into medicine or something remotely useful.

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