Page 22 of Never With You
A woman in a string bikini and large black glasses approaches my table. “You’re with Atomic Energy Drinks, right?”
“Yep.” I sit a little taller, greeting her with a pleasant smile. “How can I help you?”
She lifts her sunglasses, resting them on top of her head. “The shower head in my room has no water pressure.”
And this is why I hate Cabo incentive trips.
“That’s a hotel maintenance problem. You’ll want to talk to someone at the front desk to get that fixed.”
She lifts her sunglasses, showing me her annoyed glare. “I thought you were over the trip.”
“I’m over the events for the trip, but I don’t deal with hotel maintenance.”
Her hardened gaze remains on me.
“Is there something else I can help you with? Did you sign up for your side tours already?” I shove the laminated paper with all the choices in front of her. “There’s swimming with dolphins for an extra fee or a day trip to the Cabo Arch.”
“I just want my shower head fixed.”
“Again, you’ll have to talk to the hotel front desk for that.”
Her eye roll is the last thing I see before she turns around and walks away.
I sit back in my chair with a huff, wishing I were in a different paradise—New Zealand, perhaps. I pull out my phone and open Instagram, checking for anything new from Mr. International.
Messages from a random guy shouldn’t lurch my heart into palpitations, but falling for strangers on the internet is my new favorite hobby.
Nine months of daily communication, and I’m sold.
Here’s what we know: he lives somewhere in Arizona, loves to travel, is an adrenaline junkie, eats an obscene amount of Taco Bell, posts infrequently, uses an undercurrent of flirtation in his messages, and has no qualms about DMing a woman on Instagram.
Okay, I guess we don’t know that much.
While our messages over the past months have been frequent, they’ve also been void of anything personal. I don’t know his name, and since he hasn’t asked anything about me, I haven’t asked about him—part of proving Carly Catterson can follow the rules and bechill.
Rules as established in my head:
Rule #1:No telling personal information like names, addresses, specific cities in Arizona we live in, etc.
Rule #2:Only talk about your travels after the fact. Nothing in real time.
Rule #3:Don’t overcomplicate this pen-pal relationship and make it something more than it is.
Rule #4:Don’t develop feelings.
That pretty much sums up everything I absolutely want to do.
But even with the lack of information, I’m crushing hard—something I’ll inevitably regret when he casually stops messaging me. I’m bracing myself for the letdown while also trying to sound as charming as possible in each of my replies.
@worth_traveling_to:
I take issue with rain shower heads. I’m staying in a hotel where that’s my only option, and I feel like I’m drowning every time I take a shower.
His random message makes me smile.
@girl_sees_the_world:
What is it with people and shower heads today? You’re the second person who’s complained to me about them. Do you know what I take issue with? Caesar salad that tastes like anchovies. I’m staying at a hotel with the fishiest Caesar salad I’ve ever had.
