Apparently, Cassie was going to drink away her memories of Trevor. Cassie's dinner consisted of a bit of rice and three margaritas. Now it was up to me to find somewhere to purchase necessities while keeping her upright, which was proving to be no easy feat. Deciding to venture down the block to find a convenience store to stock up on what Cassie called the “essentials,” we traipsed down the street, following the directions of the concierge. Basically we were making a booze run, but Cassie was too classy to call it that. The nearby bodega was packed with tourist essentials, and there was wine and a toothbrush. Score.

“How many nights are we here?” Cassie asked. “Six? So we need what, twenty bottles?”

“I think your math is a little drunk,” I said, taking a bottle out of her hands before she fell on it.

“One more moscato?”

“Fine.” I grabbed a bottle off the shelf and placed it in our basket, which already felt like it was going to rip my arm off.

“Let me pay,” I told her. Trevor's credit card had seen enough damage. I shooed her outside before she tried to whip it out anyway.

A minute later, our necessities were purchased and I ducked out the door as my phone buzzed in my pocket. There were texts from Jillian and Brett. I ignored Brett's, because it stank of desperation and included a short bullet point list of all the reasons why “our break” was totally unfair to him. Scrolling down, I read Jillian's text and smiled.

JILLIAN: You aren't going to believe what Tara told me she got Liam for Christmas. Deets later.

I could imagine what Tara thought was an appropriate gift for her daughter's boyfriend based on years of Jillian's own Christmas presents. One year she'd given her a self-help book on coping with life-altering illness. Nothing says happy holidays like a reminder that you’ve got early onset Parkinson’s. A twinge of guilt rocketed through me. Maybe we should have gone with her to California. There was safety in numbers, but if Liam couldn’t protect her, what could I do? I texted her back to say we'd call her tomorrow and when I looked up, Cassie was nowhere to be seen.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I'd lost track of Cassie. Strike that. I'd lost track of a drunk and angry Cassie. This could spell the end of times.

Darting around the corner, bags clutched desperately against my hips, I searched the next street for her with no luck. I'd only been distracted for a minute. How far could she have gotten?

I walked another block, but she was nowhere to be seen. Most of the shops were closed and the only other people out were American tourists.

“Loca!” The exclamation was followed by a stream of angry Spanish. Cassie couldn’t be too far.

I sprinted in the direction of the cry and discovered Cassie ripping apart a copy of what looked to be a Spanish bridal magazine.

“No,” she said, tearing off the cover and stomping on it. “I don't want to plan the wedding of my dreams!”

“Cassie,” I said. “Come on, honey. You don't want to do this.”

“Yes, I do.” She spit on the now destroyed magazine for good measure.

“I think it learned its lesson.” I tugged her arm, trying to drag her away but she lunged for another one.

“I don’t care about the Royal baby either!” She ripped the cover photo of the smiling mother-to-be in half. This was arguable considering she’d made me watch the royal wedding and all the follow-up reports. Hell hath no fury and all that jazz.

Behind me the operator of the newsstand unleashed another torrent of Spanish I couldn’t begin to keep up with—but I did understand the word policía. I held up my hands and shook my head, struggling to remember any of my high school Spanish. He gestured around the street, and I realized Cassie had gone on a spree. Dozens of magazine pages littered the sidewalk in front of the stand. She might not actually speak Spanish but she’d managed to destroy every magazine that hinted at love or couples or happiness.

“Cassie, give me your purse,” I said, but she ignored me, so I snatched it off her shoulder.

“Hey!” She grabbed for it, but I held her back.

I held up a finger. “Do not test me right now.”

Cassie was going to get her ass thrown in Mexican jail. Hell, she was probably going to get both of our asses thrown in jail. Pulling out the credit card I waved it at the shop owner.

“Para,” I said, pointing to the damage.

His grimace sank further and he slapped a small sign that hung near him.

Únicamente efectivo.

I couldn’t read that, but I could read the translation scrawled below it. Cash only.

Crap. Digging through Cassie’s wallet turned up a few pesos, a condom, and some business cards. Of course, that’s all she would be carrying on her right now.

I offered the man the pesos, and he laughed.

“Mil pesos,” he said. “One thousand.”

I shook my head that I didn’t have it and he produced a cell phone. “Policía.”

“No! No! No! Un…minute,” I said, resolving on the spot to buy Spanish language software as soon as I got back to Olympic Falls. If I ever managed to get back there. I couldn’t help but think I might wind up wasting away here. Scrambling into my own bag, I searched until I found Roman’s business card and dialed his number before I could think better of it. He was the only person I knew here besides the concierge, and he seemed more likely to help us out.

It rang twice before he picked up. “Hello?”

“Oh thank god,” I said.

“Jess?” He sounded confused, like he’d been in the middle of something. Maybe he’d been on a date or out with friends.

I reminded myself that I didn’t have any other options and launched into my problem. “I’m so sorry to call you like this, but I don’t know what else to do and Cassie’s going to wind up in Mexican prison and possibly me too—”

“Slow down,” Roman said. “Where are you?”

I looked up and repeated the cross streets to him as best as I could read them.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he promised.

“Roman,” I said before he could hang up, “can you bring a thousand pesos?”

Roman arrived in a pair of white linen pants and a gray T-shirt, confirming my fear that I’d interrupted his evening. He’d clearly been relaxing, and now he had to deal with two former students. But his casual attire coupled with his perfect body made him look more like a movie star than anyone had a right to, especially a teacher. There was a confidence to his walk, and he flashed me a quick smile as he began speaking in swift Spanish to the shop owner.

“He says he’s going to call the police if the damaged magazines aren’t paid for,” Roman explained.

“I understand that much,” I said. “But he won’t take a credit card and we don’t have enough cash. I considered running for it, but she is a tad sauced.”

Roman’s eyes darted to Cassie who was draped across me for support. “So I see.”

He turned and spoke for another few minutes with the shop owner before he pulled a few bills from his pocket and handed them over.

“It’s dealt with,” he said, returning his attention to me.

“Thank you.” I exhaled in relief. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. She's suffering from temporary, post-break-up insanity.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I couldn’t let you wind up in Mexican jail.”

“Fuck jail,” Cassie slurred. She tried to take a step forward on her own, but she misjudged her ability to walk, catching her foot on the pavement and crashing toward the cement. Roman caught her around the waist.

“Where to?” he asked me as he shifted her into his strong arms.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I can get her back.”

“I won’t sleep tonight if I’m worried about you,” he said. His voice was soft and deep, leaving me dizzy. Suddenly, I felt as though I was drunk, too. Part of me wished I was so that I would be the one in his arms.

“We’re not far.” I hesitated, biting my thumbnail. It had been completely inappropriate for me to call him here to help. Asking more of him seemed equally improper.

“Great, in which direction is not far?”

I could tell he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “We’re one block that way.”

I hadn’t been here long enough to have a strong sense of direction, and I really hoped I wasn’t about to get us all lost. Not while he was lugging her dead weight around.

Gathering up the bags Cassie had dropped when she went on her rager, I led him toward our hotel.

“I’m really sorry,” I said again.

“Stop apologizing or I’m going to have to punish you,” he said.

My breath hitched in my throat. I was sure I wasn’t imagining the suggestive tone of his voice. I pushed it aside and laughed. “Okay, but at least let me get you a drink.”

“Are you asking me to have a drink with you?”

I felt his gaze on me, and I wanted to melt in the heat of his eyes. Was I?

“Yes, I am,” I said, mustering as much confidence as I could. A weight lifted off my shoulders and immediately dropped into my stomach. I’d done it. I’d made a move and I only wanted to throw up a little. This was progress.

“We’d better get her into bed first. Then I’d love to have a drink with you,” he said, hoisting Cassie up a little higher. She’d fallen asleep, her face pressed against his shoulder. I was insanely jealous of her in that moment. I wanted to press my face against that shoulder. “Is this it?”

His question called me back to reality. We were standing in front of the hotel. I waved for him to follow me past the main entrance and toward the beach. “We’re back here.”

The row of villas was relatively quiet and the beach was deserted now that it was dark. I unlocked the front door, and pointed to her room. I let Roman carry Cassie to her bed while I shoved the stuff we bought into the fridge. Circling the living area, I checked to make sure we didn’t have anything incriminating left out. It would be just like Cassie to leave her vibrator out as a practical joke.

When I felt fairly confident that I was in the clear, I headed into her room. “Give me a sec with her.”

“I’ll be on the patio.”

It was a cautious move, and I appreciated the effort. So I’d asked him for a drink, but that didn’t mean I’d handed him an all-access pass. Waiting outside was what a gentleman would do, which only made him hotter.

When he left, I tucked Cassie’s covers around her and turned her on to her side in case she got sick. I’d need to check on her later to make sure she was okay. It was hardly the first time I’d been on alcohol poisoning duty. Everyone always expects the pre-med student to handle that. She hadn't drank enough to be in real danger, but her stomach was empty. Booze and no food was always a bad combination.

Tomorrow Cassie was getting a lecture. She couldn’t let Trevor affect her this deeply. Then again, maybe this was how you were supposed to react to a break up. She was in love with him. Seeing her like this now made me realize that I was taking my own way too well. If I’d loved Brett, shouldn’t I be hurting as much as she was? I sat next to her for a moment, brushing her hair back from her face. I’d give her a lecture but not a harsh one.

When I couldn’t avoid it any longer, I gathered my courage to head outside. Somehow I knew that once I did, nothing would ever be the same again.