Page 26 of Official

SAMANTHA

“Okay,” Xander says, putting his phone in the bag. “I’ve called and reserved two spots for snuba diving, and when we get back to the hotel later, we’ll ask about a pig roast.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I shift onto my back and stretch my arms over my head after a long morning of lying here. After we made our list, Xander got right to work making calls—it seemed like he couldn’t even take another breath before he made our reservations.

“We also have to get our first real meal at some point today,” he says over his shoulder as he shakes sand from his board shorts.

“What I brought was real,” I argue, my eyes still closed behind my sunglasses. “I’m stuffed.”

“Excuse me?” a feminine voice asks.

Xander and I look up to see a woman holding a volleyball.

“Would you like to play?” Her accent sounds European. I’d guess Italian, given her olive complexion and dark, silky hair.

We glance behind her to see a guy waving, and I smile.

“We’d love to!” I grab Xander’s arm, and we stand at the same time. “I’m Samantha, but you can call me Sam. This is Xander.”

“Nice to meet you. I am Francesca, and he is Mario.”

When we reach Mario by the water, we shake hands with him too.

Then I miss the first volley.

“I need to warm up,” I announce in my defense as I wave my arms to the sides, loosening the muscles from a short but intense workout in the hotel gym yesterday. The lactic acid that’s built up is making me stiff, and I didn’t do myself any favors by lying still for the last hour and a half.

As the sun grows hotter and rises higher in the sky, we hit the ball back and forth over an imaginary net, grains of sand flying each time one of us lunges for the ball.

As more people claim their spots on the beach, the tide comes near us, and when we start splashing saltwater into our eyes, we find a new spot to continue playing.

“You have come here before?” Francesca asks in her heavy accent as Xander retrieves the ball I tossed into the water after another bad volley.

“I was little when I came. I barely remember any of it except for the clear water—swimming was my only priority back then.” I giggle. “What about you two?”

“First time,” Mario says, wrapping his arm around her. “Our honeymoon.”

I clutch my chest over my bikini top. “That’s so sweet.”

When he reaches us, Xander’s hair is dampened by the water. It drips down his face, falling from his black eyelashes in rapid succession and momentarily distracting me.

I don’t have to admit out loud or fear Teddy’s wrath to acknowledge to myself that the guy is very… hot.

“They’re, um, on their honeymoon,” I sputter. “Isn’t that so romantic?”

Xander nods. “Oh, congratulations.”

“Thank you, thank you. And you two?” Francesca raises her eyebrows.

“We’re not together. Just friends.” Xander gives them a tight-lipped smile.

Francesca brings her hands up to cup both of her cheeks. “But you are so cute together. Are they not, Mario? Look at them. So young and happy.”

Xander squeezes the ball between his large hands, his body tensing. “Ready?” he practically bites out.

Our new friends don’t seem to pick up on it, but it’s obvious to me that he’s bothered, probably by the fact that two different people have now mistaken us for a couple.

Eyeing him, I fall back into position, and we continue lobbing the ball back and forth for almost an hour as we chat about Italy and their house outside of Rome.

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