“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I tell them. “No need to worry.” To ensure they don’t worry, I raise my hand to the bartender at the swim-up bar. “Could I order these ladies another round of margaritas?”
“Si, senorita. Coming right up.”
While Grace and Macy are swimming toward the bar, I take th
e opportunity to climb out, grab my towel and head off toward the lobby of the hotel. I just need a breather. The time will allow them to finish gushing about their love lives so we can get back to acting like careless adults for the rest of the weekend.
On the way to the elevators, I spot the concierge desk, and a man waiting for an unsuspecting tourist with his hands behind his back. He spots me spotting him. “Excuse me, miss, are you interested in any of our excursions? We have plenty leaving here from the hotel.”
“No, thank you,” I tell him, continuing to walk by.
“We have boating, sunset cruises at the marina, hikes, you name it.”
I shouldn’t have looked over again, but he’s still staring at me as if I was giving him the idea that I’m interested. “Thanks anyway,” I offer.
“Aw, come on. Help a guy out. I have to fill my quota for the day and it’s getting late.” His voice is softer for the last comment. His statement also sounds like more of a plea.
I don’t know what it is about him that makes me stop to hear what he has to say, but it could be because my stomach doesn’t hurt, and I was just looking for a selfish excuse to get a breather away from the love connection stories.
“Okay, lay it on me,” I tell him. I’m looking directly at his face, trying to act as interested as I’m sure he wants me to appear. He’s talking and I’m trying to figure out if he’s native to Mexico or American with a nice tan. The dark hair and eyes aren’t clarifying my debating. His smile is a bit entrancing, and he’s got these dimples that scream “I’m cute.” I wonder why he’s selling excursions at a hotel, what made him want to do this for a living. Maybe he’s just helping a friend out.
“You aren’t listening to anything I’m saying, are you?” His question pulls me out of my wandering thoughts.
“I’m sorry. Look, I’m here on a girls' weekend for my best friend’s bachelorette party. I’m not a big party girl and my two friends are currently in the pool exchanging spit swapping stories. I told them I had a stomachache, ran away to clear my head, and here I am now trying to focus on what you’re hoping I will be interested in.”
The guy looks taken aback by my explanation, most likely because it was too much information for someone who is just trying to fill their quota.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were running away from something,” he says.
“It’s okay. My friends might be interested in doing one of these excursions tomorrow though, so I’ll take a couple of the pamphlets and see what they want to do.”
“That would be awesome,” he says.
As he’s collecting the packets of information to give me, I notice a lonesome brochure in the middle of the table. Lovers Beach.
“Lovers Beach?” I question. “Is that where the mermaids live?”
“I’m Lincoln,” the man says, holding his hand out for me to shake.
“Alex,” I reply, shaking his hand, curious why my comment would provoke a handshake.
“Alex, I like your sense of humor. There’s a Divorce Beach too if you’re interested.”
I shrug. “Nah, I’d have to get married first to consider that option.”
“Touché,” Lincoln replies.
“How long does it take to get to Lovers Beach?” I ask, curious about the place. It looks beautiful and secluded, which doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world at the moment.
“It’s actually a fairly quick hike that starts right out at the beach behind the hotel. I don’t recommend going alone, however.”
“Of course,” I reply with haste. “What single person should go to Lovers Beach alone, right?”
“That’s not what I mean,” he continues.
“I fly solo, Lincoln. Just answer me this … could I make it back in a half hour?”
His eyebrows furrow like I’m asking a ridiculous question. “I guess if you hurry and just take a peek at the sights you could make it there and back within a half hour. I don’t recommend—”