And then Evi came around.
I can still taste her, smell her, feel her…
Thirtyone.
Evianna
I try to avoid Nick as much as possible that next week. It’s inevitable in some cases, like when I stroll in on Monday morning (after having spent the weekend at my parents’ house due to the ever-mounting next-day embarrassment). He doesn’t say anything, of course. He’s a gentleman. And he really doesn’t act all that different. He even offers to make me breakfast, and at one point he smiles at me.
But none of those things are indications of how he’s feeling about our kiss. I’ve gone and convinced myself that maybe he didn’t know it was me. Maybe he just thought it was some random stranger. Maybe he was drunk, and he doesn’t even remember.
The rest of the week passes similarly. We’re all gearing up for our trip to Mexico. We leave this coming Friday night, and I spend the week doing endless sit-ups and push-ups and squats. I want to look my best if I’ll be lounging around in a bikini all day for ten days.
Nick gives me that Friday off. We’re all home, packing and generally getting ready for our trip. Bria is bouncing off the walls, of course. I’ve researched our resort, and it’s an eco lodge—a luxury eco lodge—in the middle of nowhere, in Tulum. Nick booked a suite, and I have my own private bedroom and bathroom, though we’re all sharing a kitchen and living quarters. Which is probably good, because I’ve heard very unsavory things about the rules on flushing toilet paper in Tulum.
I try not to think about Nick shirtless, though I know it’s going to be inevitable.
I pack light, knowing full well that I’ll be living in light dresses and shorts most days. I fit everything into a carry-on suitcase, and around seven, I walk to the main house. Our flight isn’t until eleven, but I know he wants to leave on the earlier side because it’s international.
I’m wearing a pair of leggings, sandals, and a T-shirt. I have an athletic zip-up sweatshirt on for the plane, though I doubt I’ll need it once we land. The weather is going to be warm for our whole trip. I double-check for my passport, making sure it’s still in my purse. It is.
As I slide the door open and haul my suitcase in, I notice the kitchen is empty. I leave my suitcase and purse by the dining room table and go to make myself a cup of coffee. I’m sure I won’t be sleeping on the plane, and this way I can read. The flight is a little under six hours, and we’re getting to Cancun airport early tomorrow morning. I plan on napping on the beach, drink in hand.
Since no one is around, I start preparing a bag of plane snacks for Bria. I made sure she took an extra-long nap today to make up for the lack of sleep tonight. While I’m at it, I whip up some grilled cheese sandwiches for Nick, Bria, and I to eat now, so we don’t have to buy shitty airport food.
“Smells good,” Nick says, carrying a small suitcase behind him. Bria follows, and she sniffs the air approvingly.
“Grilled cheese?” she asks, and I hand her a sandwich.
“Thought we could eat dinner here instead of the airport. I packed some snacks for us, too,” I say, producing a small ziplock bag full of granola bars and dried fruit.
Nick looks at me gratefully, and I try not to notice how good he looks right now. He’s wearing cuffed jean shorts, sandals, and a tight T-shirt.
We all eat quickly around the table, and I pack all of us some water too. Bria’s eyes are heavy with sleep, and we decide to head to the airport around eight. I hope she’ll sleep on the plane, but then again, I have no doubt. She can sleep pretty much anywhere.