Page 18 of The Last Sunrise

“Hi.” Prisha’s voice sounds like a purr.

Her mouth twitches a little as she smiles, matching Amara’s energy.

“This is my friend Ry.” Amara touches my shoulder. “She’s here for the summer from the States, and she’s here to make sure you don’t murder me or something.”

Prisha’s laugh is a musical, low-pitched sound. I love the details of people’s laughs. Strangers or friends, you can tell so much about someone by their laugh. It’s one of the only moments in human behavior when there’s no guard, no walls, just a clear undiluted sound unique to them.

“Hello, Ry, I’m Prisha. Not a murderer, so I hope you won’t be too bored.” I take her outreached hand and shake it gently.

I’m not the one on a date with her and I’m already mesmerized. I really hope this goes well, for Amara’s sake. Amara motions for all of us to sit down and the small talk begins. The warmer their conversation becomes—why Prisha is going to med school in Sweden, why she chose to come to Mallorca for her break, how Amara ended up living here—I begin to drown them out to give them a sense of privacy. Looking around the bar, there are more men now. I’m getting annoyed as I find myself comparing every single one of them to the man from the beach yesterday. Julián. The nameless asshole with the pretty name. Nearly all of them are handsome, but nothing close to him. How obnoxious.

“Ry? Are you there?” Amara’s voice pulls me from the maze in my mind.

“Yeah, sorry.” I smile, relieved she has no clue that I’m daydreaming about her stupid one-night-stand-loving friend.

“Anyone interesting?” She wiggles her brows.

I shake my head fiercely. “Nope.”

God, I need another drink to get him off my mind.

“Let’s take some pics together!” Amara pulls out her phone and starts taking selfies of the three of us. I follow their lead of when to smile, when to hold up a peace sign, when to smile with teeth.

“Can you take one of me and Ry?” Amara hands her phone to Prisha, who happily takes at least five photos from every angle.

When she gives the phone back to Amara their fingers brush, and even in the dim lighting I can see the goose bumps rise on Amara’s arm. I look away, smiling but trying not to embarrass her.

“I’m going back to the bar, want another round?” I ask them.

Without breaking eye contact with each other, they both nod, and I leave them in their own little world to get us drinks.

Fabio, busy as ever, finishes perfectly pouring a draft beer into a tall glass and saunters over to me, passing the crowd of already waiting costumers. The people in line don’t seem to care or are used to the way he works. Without a word, he winks at me and starts pouring the shots, sans flames, which I suppose would lose the novelty after a few. My eyes widen when he hands me a tray with at least ten shots on it.

“Enjoy, lovely, and have the time of your life!” He dashes off to get back to the line.

The music has gotten louder, and it’s gotten busier since we arrived, but he’s still the only one working behind the bar.

When I get back to the table, Prisha’s hand is resting on Amara’s thigh, a clear sign that she’s into her too. Prisha’s dangling gold earrings catch the light as she laughs at something Amara says in her ear. I feel bad ruining their moment, but I’m carrying a tray of shots and have nowhere else to put them and no one else to take them with.

“I’m back with a ton of shots,” I say, stating the obvious and nodding toward the tray as I sit it down, trying not to spill any in the process.

“Ry! Look who liked the pic of us within literally ten seconds of me posting it!” Amara holds her phone up and showsme an Instagram profile. There are only two photos, one of the sunset over a calm blue sea and the other of the back of a man’s head, which I recognize a little too quickly for my own good.

“Julián?” I already know the answer but confirm anyway.

She nods. “He’s definitely got his eye on you.”

“Who’s Julián?” Prisha asks me.

I shake my head. “No one. I mean no one to me. He’s Amara’s friend who I happened to meet randomly, and he was such an asshole. Arrogant and hates tourists, which doesn’t make sense when you live in a tourist-filled place, but he’s grumpy and thinks he knows everything. He’s the worst.”

Amara’s eyes widen like she’s trying to tell me something, and I turn my neck to see what she’s staring at behind me.

“The worst, huh?” Julián, in the flesh, is standing directly behind me. I track my eyes up to his face, and of course he’s got a shit-eating grin spread across it.

“I— Well, I didn’t—” I stammer, because there’s no way in hell to dig myself out of this hole.

Julián holds his hand up. “I don’t care what you think of me, I’m just happy to hear it firsthand, but you sure had a lot to say about someone who is no one,” he says with pure amusement, grabbing ahold of another stool and dragging it to sit right next to me.

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