My sunscreen application with Sunscreen turned out to be a real success. A couple hours and a piña colada later, I’m still thinking about the sunscreen, followed by a couple different moisturizing oils. Sitting alone on my hotel room bed, I’m considering how I could use more of that.

I have Sunscreen’s number, with an open invitation to contact him any time—preferably soon. There’s just something keeping me from making the call, or text. I take a quick shower, hoping to reset myself.

Then…nope, still don’t feel like calling Sunscreen, although I know it’ll make for a fun evening.

I try resetting myself yet again by ordering room service and some wine and watching Spanish-language TV for a while.

None of it works.

“I guess I’ll call WineBar,” I say out loud. As if that’s the plan after all, as if I need to talk myself into it.

I turn off the TV, feeling like I’m in a sort of trance. I don’t know why I need to call Kirk right now, but I feel my trip will be incomplete without talking to him, hearing his voice, and bringing him into my life again.

I call WineBar’s number and stand on the floor next to the bed as the phone rings. What do I say to him?

I just stand there, listening to the phone ring, nervous about him picking up, nervous about him not picking up, and finally feeling deflated as that goddamn voicemail message starts. It’s not happening with WineBar tonight. At this point, I’m wondering if it might never happen, so I hang up.

It’s getting late now, and I’m well-fed and a little tipsy, so fuck it, I’ll just do it.

I lie back on my bed, find Sunscreen in my contacts, and finally just fucking call. The phone barely rings twice before his voice chimes through.

“Hello!” He sounds enthusiastic.

“You know who this is, don’t you?”

“Yeah, do I ever. I’m glad to hear from you.”

“You are? I guess you have no other plans for tonight.”

“If I did, I’d scrap ’em in a second. Wouldn’t even think about it.”

I stand up and start walking toward the door.

“What does that mean, may I ask?”

“Since I have plans with you, I’d scrap everything else.”

I stop right at the door.

“What makes you think you have plans with me?”

“Why are you calling?”

“I wanted to know if you wanted a drink. I could go for one more tonight. I’m buying.”

“The poolside bar’s still open.”

“Alright, then. Ten minutes.”

I hang up and walk out the door. It takes me less than five minutes to walk to the bar. Would you like to guess who’s already there, waiting with a drink?

Sunscreen is wearing a short-sleeve button-up Hawaiian shirt, because what else would he be wearing?

He smiles in greeting and pats the stool next to his. As soon as I sit down, the bartender places a frozen drink in a hollowed-out coconut in front of me.

“Where else would I sit?” I take a sip through the straw—still a piña colada, only in coconut dressing this time.

“Nowhere else, I hope.”

“I thought I was buying the drinks.”

“You still can. I haven’t paid yet.”

I nod and take another small sip.

“So are you here like, permanently, or something?”

Sunscreen takes his own coconut with both hands and helps himself to a large sip.

“Or something—something like coming down here for spring break one year, and never getting around to going back. It’s working out rad so far.”

I look at all the little tchotchkes behind the bar while Sunscreen looks at me.

“Ah. Yeah. Rad.”

“Ha, yeah. Totally.”

I swing on my stool to face Sunscreen.

“Do you apply a lot of sunscreen?”

“Not really, just on special occasions.”

“Am I special occasion?”

“Girl, you’re a damn national holiday.”

“National?”

“International—Mexico, America—a holiday everywhere.”

“How about just Cancun?”

“A local holiday. I could celebrate that.”

We have a couple more drinks, our conversation gets even fucking dumber, I loosen up, and we both end up laughing like a couple ditzes at everything.

I pay the tab with my credit card, and Sunscreen and I still have a case of the giggles as we saunter up to my room.

I hear Sunscreen let out a couple final chuckles behind me as I walk to the bed. I turn around and see that Sunscreen has his tote bag with him.

“How did I not notice that bag before?”

Sunscreen shrugs as he drops the bag to the floor.

“Nothing major in there. Just some sunscreen, oils, lotions, feathers, light scarves.”

“Scarves?”

“If you’re interested. It could be fun. I also have some chocolate body paint, if you get hungry. Or if you’re feeling artistic.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s take it slow for a second.”

We walk toward each other, and the moment we reach each other, he grabs me and pulls me tight up against him. We kiss greedily, our tongues traveling, exploring each other’s mouths. We collapse onto the floor, continuing to make out.

I naturally end up on top of Sunscreen. I lift my head away from his and see him looking blissed-out, his arms stretched out on the floor. I run my fingertips softly along his muscly arms and down his Hawaiian shirt.

I shift backward a bit so I have easy access to his zipper. I feel around the front of his shorts. He sits up a bit and undoes his zipper.

His rigid cock is sticking up through the front of his boxers.

I think of WineBar before I could even make my next move. Shit.

I jump up, and Sunscreen seems confused about my abrupt actions. I can’t keep Kirk out my head even if another man’s cock is pointing straight up at me.

But how do I tell Sunscreen that?

He starts standing up and pushes his cock back into his shorts.

“I’m sorry” is all I say, because what the fuck else do you say in this situation?

But Sunscreen doesn’t look too upset as he grabs his bag and leaves in a hurry.

Well, fuck.

I flop onto my bed. That whole thing was a bust, but I’m really not disappointed.

It’s for the best, and I know it. My guardian angel is looking out for me tonight, and for that I’m grateful, because now it’s clearer than ever that I’m not ready to give up on WineBar yet.