Page 17 of Official

In other words, an impossibility.

When it comes to women, I steer clear of complications, and crossing the line with Sam would be beyond messy.

I glance at my phone again to check the time and confirm I have one hour until dinner by the beach.

We made reservations at the hotel restaurant that boasts of seafood as delicious as the suites are luxurious. Not their exact words per se. I put my own spin on it since I know that statement to be true, firsthand.

I’d tried the lobster there when my mom, stepdad, and I visited Maui years ago, my first and only other time here.

After Sam and I secured our rental, I drove straight to the same resort and crossed my fingers that they had two adjoining rooms available. The other stipulation was that they had to have a patio with a view of the beach, and even though June is a busy month for the island, we were able to snag a couple of premium rooms.

Sam claims I sweet-talked the young woman at the front desk, and she couldn’t resist my flirtatious responses to her questions, but I denied it the entire walk to the rooms.

Besides, who cares how we got them? For this view, I’d gladly charm a large, hairy dude, or even let a damn shark in my personal space.

Holding a fluffy towel around me, I enter the main part of my room, and the yellow and white leis we got on the day we arrived immediately catch my attention. They’re bright and match much of the vibrance of the room.

Beyond the bed, a sliding glass door leads to the patio, and the bushes surrounding it are trimmed and neat. The color of the flowers among the greenery matches the leis too.

I secure the towel above my hip bone as I walk toward the sliding door, the outside and the beach both calling to me. I spend a lot of time at beaches in LA, but they’re nothing like the ones here. The swaying palm trees, chaotic cliffs, and clear waters. The air of quiet paradise. I can almost always hear tunes of the ipu and ukulele everywhere I go.

It’s so relaxing. I haven’t thought about the ordeal with Zoey even once.

I pull the sliding door closed behind me and step up to the gate, leaning my elbows on it and getting lost in the music of the island.

It looks and sounds the same as I remember, although it’s more lively now. Perhaps that’s because the memories have faded, since my last trip here was almost ten years ago, but still. My parents had brought me here as a high school graduation present, and although we had our fun, there were plenty of downfalls too.

My mother and Klein worked as if we were still in LA, but the plus side was that I had a lot of free time to write. Nothing more inspiring than a beach view and a virgin-cocktail alongside easygoing tourists soaking up the sun.

It was definitely better than the time I was fifteen and tried to write at Venice Beach. A strange woman dressed in dirty clothes with sand smeared across her cheek marched right up to me, ripped a page out of my notebook, and blew her nose in it.

The worst part was that she balled the piece of paper up and threw it at me like I was a trash can.

In any case, this trip will be very different than the last.

While I may or may not have already made a few notes in my character book about the woman at the front desk, I’m determined to make this vacation more about the fun.

“Xander, I was just coming—”

“Sweet… Cheeks Sam!” I practically jump out of my skin, whirling toward Sam’s voice as my heart thunders in my ears.

“Are you seriously making ‘Sweet Cheeks Sam’ a thing?” She grimaces, but her expression quickly transforms as she drops her gaze lower. “Oh, um, you…”

She brings both of her hands to cover her eyes and spins in place, right, then left, and back to the right as if too much sun has blinded her.

What the hell? I peer down and realize my towel fell off, and on display, is my junk.

“Shit,” I hiss and bend at the knees to scoop my towel back up. Once my cover is secured, I face her again and find she’s blinking more rapidly than a malfunctioning taillight, her cheeks flushed. “You can look now. I’m decent.”

She clears her throat and rubs her neck, her gaze still darting everywhere but directly at me.

“What’s going on here?” I wave over her.

“Nothing. It’s nothing… I mean, I’ve seen it before, so it’s not a big deal.”

“You’ve seen my dick before?” I place my hands on my hips. “This is news to me.”

“Once.” She shrugs. “It was last year when you and some girl decided to go skinny dipping. In my hot tub. I was definitely home, by the way.”

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