Page 31 of Official

I grunt as I shift on my towel, my ass forming a lopsided hole in the sand beneath me.

“You’re just mad you’re not getting any. Is this the longest you’ve gone without sex?”

I scoff. “No. I tore my meniscus in college and couldn’t…perform… for weeks.”

“Howdid yousurvive?” she asks sarcastically.

“With plenty of porn, masturbation, and more porn.”

“Talk about inappropriate.” Her voice is weak and low, drawing my attention to her and her pink cheeks.

Is she flushed?

I almost forget why we got out of the water—why I didn’t fucking kiss her when I had the chance—until my stomach growls again like an alarm, reminding me to eat.

And that it was for the best that it interrupted whatever damn momentary lapse in judgment I had with the woman sitting next to me.

Thank God I didn’t have real food earlier, because otherwise, I would’ve kissed Sam. She was practically begging for it. There was no mistaking her desire, not in the way she was holding on to me. I would’ve devoured her teasing lips without a care in the world for the consequences too.

Not only would Teddy have given me the ass-kicking of the century had I made a move on his sister, but what about the rest of the trip? It would’ve just made things awkward, when everything’s been going so well.

And I meant what I said about the list. I want to complete it as part of my determination to make this trip better than my last one here.

Besides, I don’t know when I’ll be able to return once we leave. Who knows what the future holds? The TV and film industry moves quickly, even if responses to pitches take longer than snail mail. I might get a call tomorrow from a producer who liked one of my scripts that they found as it meandered from desk to desk like a nomad.

So, the list is as important as a lifelong bucket list. But nowhere on it does it say “kiss best friend’s sister in a heated moment of an adrenaline rush.”

No, this is for the best.

Abso-fucking-lutely.

* * *

After several more rounds of groaning from my stomach, Sam and I pack our shit and walk to a café right off the beach. Lights are strung around the patio, which is enclosed by wooden beams that lie parallel above each other like a ladder. The faint echo of the waves mixed with loud wails of seagulls transforms into chatter and buzz from the other patrons as we approach our table.

Once we’re seated in the corner, Sam pulls her phone out and swipes left like she’s on a dating app.

The thought alone spikes my heart rate—and not in a good way.

“What’re you doing?” I fight my urge to leap across the table.

Get a grip, man.

“I’m checking the pictures I took earlier and the ones from last night with the hammocks. This is the longest I’ve gone without posting to my socials, and I need to make sure I step up my game once I do get back to it.” She bites her bottom lip, worrying it as she continues swiping, pinching the screen to zoom in every now and then.

My focus locks on her lips, noticing how plump they actually are, and immediately, I recall my up-close-and-personal view of them from before.

“Aloha. Welcome to Ohana Café. What can I get you to drink?”

I jerk upright. “Hey, hi, hello.”

Sam eyes me from across the table, then smiles warmly at the server as she gives her drink order—water. Why am I not surprised? The woman is basically an endless well of water, drinking and basking in it with satisfaction. I’m still stunned she even drank the coffee with Kahlúa I gave her earlier.

I must say, though, it’s endearing. I might give her shit because I like to mess with her, but Sam is a damn inspiration.

Even so, I like to bask in the opposite during vacation. “Bloody Mary for me please.”

Once she scurries away, Sam dips her head. “I know what you want to say.”

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