Page 26 of The Last Sunrise

“I heard that’s your favorite type of woman to sleep with,” I whisper in his ear, purposely letting my lips touch him.

As the words come out, he instantly pulls away from me, putting at least five feet between us. I’m confused and flustered.

“What did you just say?” he asks, the words coming out in small puffs.

I stare at him, wondering why he’s so pissy when I’m fine with his lifestyle of hooking up with random foreigners. Right now, I just want to be one of them.

“Look, I’m not judging you. I’m fine with it. If anything, I’m very, very fine with it,” I admit, my body screaming at me in desperation to have him.

I take a step toward him, but he walks backward, making it clear he’s pissed off.

His brows scrunch together in frustration. “So, you heard from Amara that I go around sleeping with women and you—” He cuts himself off mid-sentence, like it’s not worth finishing his thought. “I’m leaving.”

And just like that… he leaves me on the beach, with nothing but confusion and his T-shirt on the sand.

Chapter Ten

As I walk back to my hotel, my fingers twist the fabric of Julián’s T-shirt, ringing it out over and over. What the hell is his problem? Maybe I took it too far by talking about his sex life, but he could use a lesson or two in fucking communication instead of just walking away. If I would have known he was so precious about his lifestyle of sleeping with women and ghosting them, I wouldn’t have brought it up, or at least apologized if he wouldn’t have taken off like a coward. No, fuck that, no apology from me. He’s in the wrong here. I would have called him out on his shit and asked why he’s fine hooking up with other women but not with me.

And the audacity to leave me at the beach, knowing damn well I didn’t have a way back. What a selfish asshole. The walk is only a little over twenty minutes, but the point stays the same. He’s a dickhead. A dickhead who embarrassed me and took off like a temper-filled child. Thank god we didn’t hook up. I blink my eyes to get rid of the stupid vision of his wet lips, the muscles across his chest…

When I reach the main road, my anger has only increased. As I pass a busy restaurant, laughter and music pour onto thesidewalk with the tables and chairs. I consider stopping in and ordering a drink, taking a picture, and posting it on Instagram to get Julián’s anger and attention. How desperate of me to think he would even care enough to notice.

I pull my phone out and text Amara, hoping she’s still out. There’s no way I can go back to my hotel and face my mom right now. It’s almost eleven. My mom must be really, really distracted or exhausted with work to not be questioning me this late.

Amara’s name pops up on my screen as my phone vibrates in my hand. I slide to accept it immediately. “Where the hell did you disappear to?” Her voice is loud, the background even louder.

“I… Julián took me out of there before the cops came. You didn’t get in trouble, right? And I swear I’ll give you money for the drinks.”

“No one got in trouble and everything’s fine. Wait, are you still with Julián?” she asks. I can imagine her brows wiggling through the phone.

“No. He—” Something stops me from finishing. “I’m not with him anymore. He basically just dropped me off.” I don’t know why I’m lying to her, but I can’t seem to help it.

“Are you guys still out?” I ask, trying to move the topic from Julián.

“We are… but we’re on our way to Prisha’s Airbnb,” she tells me. “You can come?” she offers, like the angel she is, but I want her to have alone time with her date that I nearly ruined and I would be the worst company right now.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m tired anyway and have had enough excitement for one night. I’m nearly back to my hotel now.”I click on the directions on my phone. A little over half a mile to go.

She promises to call me tomorrow, and I tell her to have fun, hoping she has more fun than I did with Julián.

The familiar rumbling of a motorbike engine rings in my ears. Though there are tons of them in this city, I’ve already memorized his. I refuse to look back, even as he slows to a near stop next to me.

“Hey,” he calls to me.

I walk faster. I can see him in my peripheral, but I’m still so pissed, not to mention embarrassed.

“Ry, look, I’m sorry. Can we talk for a minute?”

I shake my head. “No. You said what you wanted to say and left me at the beach alone. Fuck off.”

I give him one glance and see he’s struggling with the pace of my walking with his bike. He shuts down the engine, the purr going quiet.

“I deserve that. I shouldn’t have left you there, knowing you can’t get back.”

I stop dead in my tracks, the temper I inherited from my mother flaring. “I can get back! Clearly.” I hold up my phone to show him. “So leave me alone.”

The last thing on earth I want is for him to leave me alone, which pisses me off even more. Something about him is so hard to resist. Especially when I look at him. I guess that’s how hot men get away with manipulation so often. All sense of critical thinking disappears in their presence.

---