I can’t stop thinking about her.

It’s dawn before I finally peel off my clothes, tired of eavesdropping on Mom’s phone calls to Dad, who’s still at the resort. There’s sand on my knees and in the creases of my shirt. I smell like the ocean, which is nothing new—but tonight, it seems stronger.

I lie down and close my eyes.

She almost died.

No, I counter. She’s fine.

But if you hadn’t noticed her out there....

My hands tense into fists and I press them against my eyes, watering and exhausted. So what if she almost died? She didn’t. I should be glad I saved her.

Why her? Why tonight—instead of back then?

I sit up. My heart races like I woke up from a nightmare, instead of my own thoughts.

My computer screen blinds me. I log online and click the resort link on my profile, then the Checked In section, where guests can tag us when their vacation in paradise begins.

Sure enough, there she is: Mollie Whitfield. Checked in today.

I look through her profile. Born in April. New graduate—architecture. Hails from a tiny town called Hillford.

For some reason, I feel better the more I learn about her. This is a real person, someone with a life off the island. People who love her.

I was meant to save her. It was as much out of my control tonight as it was back then.

This time, the universe just had a better outcome in mind.

“You weren’t under for very long, it seems.” The doctor looks through his notes again. “About a minute, if I had to guess.”

“That’s good,” I clarify, “right?”

“Very good. You didn’t even take much water into your lungs—looks like you coughed it all up. We’ll still need to run a few tests.” He closes the file and gives me a stern look, like my dad would do. It relaxes me. “I guess I don’t have to tell you that swimming while intoxicated is not a smart move.”

I nod. Tanya is laughing to herself, tucked into the corner; Carrie, who loves older guys—especially doctors—is reapplying her lip gloss from the window seat. “Yeah. It was pretty stupid of me.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for pneumonia or other respiratory issues,” he adds, sighing (like he’s disappointed, not angry; God, I really miss my folks right now), and pats my shoulder before he leaves.

When he’s gone, Tanya sits up and announces, “DILF. Doctor I’d like to—“

“We get it.”

“Do you want us to stay with you tonight?” Carrie asks. She’s looking at the door, not me. Probably imagining where Dr. Dilf went. “We don’t mind.”

Macy makes a face. She’s a little spoiled: won’t eat anything but cooked-for-her food, and won’t sleep anywhere that isn’t stuffed with feathers. Those army-style hospital cots are hardly her scene.

“No,” I assure her, just as I make eye contact with Tanya, who I know will stay, regardless. “You guys go back to the hotel. Tell the twins I’ll just see them tomorrow.” I don’t add what I really want to: that they should tell Damian to get his ass down here. Why hasn’t he visited?

With Macy and Carrie gone, I feel like I can relax. I don’t care about sitting up straight or even maintaining conversation. With Tanya, I can show my exhaustion, double chins and all.

“So,” she says, pulling her chair right up against the bed, “how are you really feeling?”

I smile through my yawn. “Tired. But good. I really did get lucky.”

She nods. “I mean, if that guy hadn’t seen you, you’d be....”

We’re silent. Tanya picks at a thread in my blanket.

“Tan,” I prompt, to make her look at me, “I’m fine.”

“I know,” she says softly. The dramatic sobs from earlier are gone with Carrie and Macy; if Tanya has to cry in front of people, she makes sure they get something worth looking at.

But I’m not “people,” just like Tanya isn’t people to me. It’s easier to be vulnerable. This time, her tears are quiet and hidden—just as genuine as before, but much harder to laugh off.

“Really.” I blink mine back. “I’m okay.”

She gets up and climbs into the bed with me. Her perfume replaces the scent of saltwater and sand, or at least covers it, so I can finally fall asleep.

I’m an hour late to Luka’s shift, not that anyone notices. Dad is stressing over guest concerns as word of the drowning spreads, and Luka is busy with the PR department. If the morning news report is to be believed, Paradise Port has already beefed up beach security at all their resorts, world-wide. The ripple of one little night in Kona reaches farther than I thought.

The beach in front of me is weirdly empty today. Even the waves seem quieter. I have an entire thirty minutes to prep before a customer approaches.

“Hey,” she says. She’s has on a red bikini and small, round sunglasses. “You open?”

“Yep. What can I get you?”

“Irish coffee. I’ve got a headache.”

I give a polite laugh. “Coming up.”

As I brew the pot and get out a mug, she asks, “You saved that girl last night, right? The one who almost drowned down the beach?”

“Uh....” I look at the coffee pot, not her. “I guess.”

“That was pretty cool of you.”

I glance at her. She has her chin propped in her hand. Somehow, even with the sunglasses, I can tell she’s sizing me up. “Thanks?”

“I’m just saying, not everyone would have had the guts to just, like, dive in and save a stranger.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.” I pour the alcohol into her coffee, then hold up the whipped cream from the fridge. She nods. I add a mountain of the stuff to the mug, then pass it to her just as she slides her credit card my way. I check out the name as I swipe: Tanya King.

“Tanya.” I hand it back. “You look familiar.”

“Probably because I’m the girl,” she laughs, as she whisks off some whipped cream with her pinky, “who interrupted your moment with Mollie last night.” Somehow, I can tell all these flirty things she does are just part of who she is—she’s not flirting with me. At least, not for her own gain. “Sorry.”

“Um...that’s okay.” I busy myself with a sticky spot on the bar that I know won’t wipe away; Luka and I have tried for months. “I mean, I don’t even know her.”

“Do you want to?”

I look at her again.

“She gets out of the hospital this afternoon, you know. If you’re interested.”

“I’m not. Which isn’t anything against her—I’m just saying, I only waited at the hospital because I was worried.” I open the prep box and take a cherry, but don’t eat it. “I’ve seen people drown. It’s scary.”

Tanya gets quiet. I hear her sipping her drink, swiveling her barstool back and forth.

“Thank you,” she says, after a long silence. When I look at her again, she’s gotten up, already heading down the dunes. “She’s like a sister to me, so…I’m really glad you were there to save her.”

Something in my chest unknots, and I relax. “You’re welcome.”

It’s not until later, when I realize I haven’t bussed Tanya’s empty mug yet, that I notice the slip of paper she left behind.

“Mollie,” it reads. “214. Likes flowers.”

“So you don’t remember anything before that?”

I squint into the sun as we leave the hospital. Tanya picked me up in a town car (courtesy of the resort, I assume in an attempt to make sure I don’t sue), and as we climb into the back, I repeat, “Not a thing. One minute, I’m walking on the beach with Damian, and the next thing I know Kai’s giving me mouth-to-mouth on the sand.”

This phrase elicits a bunch of crude noises from her, which I ignore when I notice the complimentary champagne in the ice bucket in front of us. The thought of alcohol still makes my head pound.

“And I was very, very drunk,” I add. “That’s what I remember the most.”

“Well, Damian probably knows what happened. We’ll ask him.”

“I don’t know.” For some reason, I feel like things are weird between Damian and me. Well, weirder than they usually are: awkward is normal when it comes to our dynamic. But I’ve got a tight feeling in my stomach I can’t shake, like we got in a fight or something.

Our hotel room is filled with free stuff: gift baskets from local companies, balloons, and at least four vases of exotic-looking flowers. “The resort’s really going out of their way to make sure I don’t sue, huh?”

Carrie and Macy, who are busy digging through a basket of chocolate, nod. “The owner’s been by twice already to ‘extend his deepest regret in person,’” Macy says. “This place has some deep pockets.”

“Well, maybe not this place, exactly. But definitely Paradise Port: vacations the way they should be,” Carrie adds, singing the company’s jingle.

“This is so stupid.” I read the card on one arrangement. “Our sincerest apologies.” “It isn’t their fault. I got drunk and went swimming, like an idiot.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Tanya hands me a shot, which I immediately hand back.

“Tan, seriously.”

“Fine. Too soon, I get it.” She takes both shots herself.

“The boys want us to meet them downstairs.” Carrie holds up her phone, where we can see she’s been texting Ted non-stop. “Dinner to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” I scoff. “Me almost dying like a moron?”

“Yes,” they all answer at once. I roll my eyes and head into my room to change.

Finally alone for the first time in hours, I take a minute to look at myself in the mirror. I don’t look like I almost died. I don’t feel any different, either, except for this strange suspicion that I’m forgetting something I shouldn’t.

Tanya brought me fresh clothes at the hospital, but my dress from last night is still in a plastic bag, cut in half by the paramedics. I open up the bag and cringe at the slight mildew smell.

Raveled with that, though, is the scent of the ocean. It makes me remember it all again: the burning in my lungs, the urge to breathe so strong, even when my brain knew better. The moon slicing through the water. The pull of the waves.

Someone—Kai—looping his arm around me, just in time.

How sturdy his chest felt when he was carrying me, the sight of his stubble as I stared and tried to make sense of what was happening. Even in the hospital room, with his nervous pauses and hands shoved in his pockets, he was cute.

“Hurry up, woman!” Macy shouts, banging on my door. “I’m starving.”

“Cut me some slack! I almost drowned.”

The three of them burst into laughter. I throw the hospital bag in the trash, casting off the memories with it as best I can, and change.

“All right, bitches,” I shout, flinging open my door, “let’s go—”

My feet lock into place when I see Kai standing there in the living room, holding a single flower, its stem wrapped in a wet paper towel.

“Hi,” I manage, and shoot a death glare at the girls before they vanish into the other bedroom.

“Hi.” He shrugs, like he’s not sure why he’s here, either. “I, uh...just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“Ah. The resort send you up?”

“No, no. Just me, promise.” He motions to the flower as I take it. “That’s a hibiscus. My mom grows them.” Kai looks around the suite, taking in the vases. “Of course, I didn’t think about the fact you’d have a floral shop up here already.”

I laugh and put the flower in an abandoned water glass on the coffee table. “I love it,” I assure him. “Thank you. It means a lot more than all these hush gifts from the company. No offense.”

“None taken.”

The pause that follows is so tense, I can’t stop my inner idiot from emerging. “I’m not, by the way,” I blurt. “Going to sue.”

“Oh.” He studies the floor, then nods. “Um. Good.”

God, I’m so bad at this.

“Thank you,” I say again, “for saving me. I didn’t realize, in the hospital.... You’d already left, and I felt bad I didn’t say it then—”

“It’s totally fine. Really. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

I glance at the closed bedroom door, where I’m sure the girls are listening. I could kill them right now.

“My next shift starts soon,” he says, looking at his wrist. There’s no watch, but we both nod anyway, grateful for the tension to end. “If you have time later, I’ll be at the poolside bar till two a.m.”

Time for what, exactly? I decide not to ask. First things first: I need to talk to Damian and figure out what the hell happened last night, and how I managed to wander off like a lost, drunken lamb.

Still, I humor him. “Sure. I’ll see you around.”

“See you.” He looks at the bedroom door, too, and gives me a wave before slipping out into the hallway. I don’t realize I’m blushing until the girls come out and tease me mercilessly, all the way to the lobby.