The wide expanse of the Pacific Ocean.
Everyone keeps asking what I want from this trip.
I don’t know how to explain it. Or how to achieve it.
I want to kill that voice.
I want to feel good.
To be alive.
To be free.
There has to be some way to do that. I just have to figure it out.
When I emerge from the water, Oliver and Holden are lazing under an umbrella, sipping from tall glasses. Something clear. Water. Oliver doesn’t do clear spirits if he has the option.
Luna squeezes my hand. Pulls me close enough to whisper. “He looks good, doesn’t he?”
“He does.” Tempting as hell, all casual and aloof, body spread out over the white chair.
“Are you going to—”
“Maybe.”
“You want me to distract Oliver?”
“Depends how you’re doing it,” I say.
Her smile gets wicked. Her gaze travels over his body. Stops on his—
Gross. “You can do better.”
She laughs. “I know. I wouldn’t. He’s your brother.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Really.” She leads me up the sand. To the guys. “Hydrated?”
Oliver chuckles.
Holden offers her his glass. “We have more coming.”
“We should eat.” Oliver’s gaze goes to me. “You must be starving after all that swimming.”
My stomach growls at the thought of food. It’s stronger than usual. Way stronger. Even after a year, I’m not particularly in touch with my body’s wants.
I eat because it’s time for breakfast, lunch, dinner. Not because I’m craving satisfaction.
“Here?” I motion to the restaurant behind us. It’s nice. Quiet.
“Sure.” Oliver tosses me a towel. “Or we could grab street tacos on the way to the Airbnb.”
I shake my head. “I want to stay out.” To stay near the ocean. In the sun. “You can go.”
He laughs nice try. Motions to the bathroom. “You want to change or—”
“They won’t mind.” I towel dry. Pull on my cover-up. Slip into my sandals.
Luna does the same.
Tragically, Holden pulls on his t-shirt. He offers his hand. Leads me into the restaurant.
The hostess nods sit wherever. We take a spot in the corner of the open space—there are no walls, only support beams—so we can look onto the beach.
Holden pulls out my chair for me.
I drape my towel over the back. Sit. Run my fingers over the menu.
It’s the English menu. Familiar. Designed for tourists. One row of Mexican specialties. One of American favorites.
Hamburgers, French fries, mac and cheese.
Street tacos. Chicken, steak, carnitas, octopus.
I make the safe choice. Chicken tacos.
Luna orders extra guacamole.
Oliver gets some dish of meat and vegetables. (Binge drinking aside, he takes pretty good care of himself. Of course, there’s always this implication when we eat together. Like he knows he’s setting an example. Like he makes a point of eating what he wants, as much as he wants).
Holden gets the octopus tacos.
For a while, everyone makes small talk. Sips their waters. Nibbles on chips and salsa.
I watch Holden eat. He doesn’t dive in like it’s his last meal. He doesn’t hold back like he’s saving himself.
He dips a chip in the salsa. Takes a bite. Licks sauce off his fingers.
Catches me staring.
“You want some?” He offers his index finger. It’s still dripping with salsa. A line of red over his tan skin.
My body screams yes. It’s the same as my growling stomach. New. Unfamiliar. Impossible to ignore.
I should be used to wanting around Holden. But I’m not. Even after a year of “getting in touch with my desires.”
No, that’s bullshit. I haven’t been getting in touch with my desires. I’ve been using routine to survive. To stay healthy but not recovered.
“I do. Thanks.” I take a chip. Dip it in salsa. Break a piece on my tongue.
What is it my therapist says? Something about the experience. All five senses.
The smell of corn.
The taste of salt.
The sharp crunch.
The sting on my tongue. Tomato and chili. Spicy. Sweet too.
I chew. Swallow. Dip the other side.
Eat it just as slowly.
It takes two chips for the food to arrive. I focus carefully on my first bite. Tender chicken. Sharp cilantro. Tangy green salsa.
For a few bites, I focus on my food.
Then my attention goes to Holden. He’s laughing at one of Oliver’s jokes. Licking salsa from his fingers. Eating the way he does everything—with reckless abandon.
What’s it like to be that free? That alive?
I want to know.
I have to know.
I have to convince him to teach me.
Chapter Eleven
Daisy
Thankfully, my best friend is a genius. She convinces Oliver to help her pick out liquor and mixers for tomorrow. Apparently, everything needs to be perfect for my birthday, and it needs to be a surprise.
I mouth thank you as she leads my brother into an open-air shop. Straight to the liquor section.
“He’s really in his element.” Holden offers me his hand. Motions to the path.
I take it. Follow him along the winding boardwalk.
The area is cute. A mix of authentic beach town and ridiculous tourist trap. Crystal blue ocean on one side. Souvenir shops, bars, restaurants on the other.