There she is, master humper of Key West.”

“Shut up,” I say, flopping next to Zoey, my head pounding as if a hammer is trying to make its way through my skull. I steal Zoey’s coffee and take a big gulp.

Victoria spreads jam across her wheat toast and asks, “Master humper? Did I miss something last night?”

“Yeah.” Zoey grabs my shoulders and shakes me, making my stomach roll from my migraine. “Our girl here totally got some last night.”

“With Beck? I like him, he’s a swell guy.”

“You should have seen them, Victoria, it was super hot. Art and I went back to our room and had some of the best sex we’ve had in a while. Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Can you not talk about our sex life with your friends?” Art has a forkful of scrambled eggs partially lifted to his mouth, a look of utter embarrassment on his face.

“Oh sweetie, they know all about how you please me. This is not new information to them, but you’re cute for turning red.” She pats Art on the cheek and helps lift his fork to his face to encourage him to keep eating. I would do the same, and tell him to ignore the rest of this conversation; better yet, run for your life, Art. Run.

“First of all, don’t tell me about getting off from watching me kiss some guy, that’s extremely disturbing, and concerning.”

“We didn’t get off over you two. God, full of yourself much? It lit a spark in us, like it was a competition, like who could fuck harder.” Zoey leans back in her chair and twirls a strand of her hair. “Let me tell you, Art fucked hard.”

“For the love of God, woman,” Art mumbles, face beet-red and buried in his plate, avoiding all eye contact.

“Well, good for you,” I answer awkwardly. “And for the record, Beck and I didn’t do anything last night.”

“Bullshit, you two were clawing at each other.”

“In public?” Victoria’s nose scrunches up. “Rylee, a little modesty. I know he’s attractive, but to hump people in public is just beneath you.”

“We didn’t hump in public, we . . . humped on his balcony.”

“You should have seen it, Victoria, her hips were moving like a jackhammer.”

Oh God, were they? I sure as hell hope not. How embarrassing. Did Beck think I was hammering my hips into him? Honest to God, I can’t remember anything besides the way he tasted on my lips, like the best kind of addiction I could ever experience.

Not going to let Zoey get away with embellishing the story, I say, “There was no jackhammering. There was kissing and light hip action. We stopped once you started catcalling up to the balcony. Thanks for that by the way.”

“What? You stopped? You weren’t supposed to stop; you were to keep going. Why the hell did you stop?”

I take another sip of her coffee and slouch back in my chair, closing my eyes, willing my headache to dissipate. It’s a tension headache no doubt. “You killed the mood.”

“Oh no, don’t you dare blame this on me. This is all on you.” Zoey turns to Art and says in a sweet voice, “Darling, why don’t you take your little fruit cup and go eat by the ocean. What a delightful experience that will be.”

Art grumbles and stands from his chair, picking up his fruit cup and a spoon. He’s a good man, putting up with Zoey. I barely put up with her, and she’s my friend. I can’t imagine being married to her, although, I think they do balance each other nicely. Art grounds her, and Zoey pushes him out of his shell. It’s a good pairing.

Once Art is out of earshot, Zoey grips the table and turns to me. I can feel her eyes blazing, scorching laser beams in my direction. I block my sight from the world, but there is no denying the wildness exuding her. She’s about to give me one of her “lessons.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Yup, here it comes. “You are single and in paradise, living it up in the sun, getting all tanned, and there is a gorgeous man interested in you, practically panting every time you walk by. If I were you, I wouldn’t be sipping my friend’s coffee and whining about your humping parade coming to a quick end. I’d be hauled up, fucking said gorgeous man every chance I had. Hell, I would make a fuck-it list of everywhere I wanted this man to do me while on this island, including against a palm tree making it rain coconuts, in the ocean with fish as my witness, upside down in the shower, soap beating my eyes, and let’s not forget on a piece of driftwood while sharing a piece of Key lime fucking pie! This is your last day here, what are you waiting for?”

I sigh and bite my bottom lip, trying to will back the tears threatening to fall. Zoey knows me better than anyone. She knows I’m not a girl who can simply fling. I’m just me. And Beck will probably avoid me like the plague after last night’s excruciating exit. “Why start something when I know it’s not going to go anywhere?”

“Uh, it’s called endless orgasms and that man is handing them out like candy on Halloween. Who cares about starting something? Just have fun, Rylee. You deserve it after what you’ve been through this past year.”

And the tears fall.

This past year. Hell, how I endured it, I have no idea.

“She’s crying,” Victoria says stiffly. Victoria doesn’t do well with emotions, and I know I’m making her extremely uncomfortable.

Zoey sighs next to me and places her hand on my arm. “Sweetie, why are you thinking about this so much? Just have fun, have a vacation fling, throw caution to the wind.”

I wipe my tears, seeing how soft Zoey’s eyes are, understanding etching her features. Victoria, on the other hand, is trying to avoid me at all costs. I’m used to her dismissing anything that deals with feelings, so I’m not the least bit hurt.

“I’m nervous because I like him.” And the truth comes out. “I don’t want to have a taste of something I’ll never have again. You know?”

Zoey squeezes my hand, pressing the palm of her hand to the back of mine. “I can understand that, but you and I both know, you only live once, why not live life to its fullest? No regrets, right?” She tips my chin up. “Will you regret throwing caution to the wind and having the night of your life? Or will you regret more never truly finding out what it’s like to be with such an enigmatic man?”

I know what my body wants. It’s practically thrumming for him right now, but can I truly put all thoughts to the side and have a passionate night?

Zoey is right. I think of all the regrets I could possibly face, and not being consumed by Beck for one night would be one of them. A huge one.

Massaging my temples, I take deep breaths as I calm the pounding in my head. “I need some medicine and my bed.”

“Headache?”

“Yeah.” I stand but Zoey grabs my hand. “Let us know if you need anything. Wedding is at five.”

“I’m arriving an hour early,” Victoria says, finally looking at me again. “I want to soak in Ernest Hemingway and his environment. I doubt I’ll stay for the reception. I’ll pay my respects to the couple and take off.”

“Okay. I’ll see you girls later.”

“Hey,” Zoey calls out before I can walk too far away. “Are you going to be okay?”

I barely nod, not wanting to shake my head too hard. “I’ll be good. Thank you.”

When I reach my room, I take three Ibuprofen, down another cup of coffee from my hotel room coffee maker, and rest my head on my pillow, blocking out the sun and the rest of the world.

* * *

The bed dips and for a second, it almost feels like I’m on a boat, the waves peacefully floating me up and down. It isn’t until I feel a warm hand press against my cheek that I realize I’m in a bed with someone hovering over me.

“Hey there.” Beck’s voice drapes over me like a warm blanket. “How are you doing?”

Peering my eyes open, I spot him immediately, his brow etched together, genuine concern on his face. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“Victoria gave me her spare key to your room when she told me you weren’t feeling well. I wanted to come check on you.”

I would expect Zoey to do such a thing but not Victoria, unless Beck once again wooed her over, and I wouldn’t put it past him.

“I brought some food and tons of water, also some more Ibuprofen and a Mountain Dew in case you needed some caffeine.”

Right past Beck is a small cart with food, Ibuprofen, a bottle of Mountain Dew, and what looks like six bottles of water. God, he’s sweet.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say while rubbing my eye. “But thank you, that was really sweet.”

“I had to make sure my date was feeling better for the wedding. I didn’t want you miserable, and I know how important it is for you to go to this wedding. So, here I am. How are you feeling now?”

I pause, giving myself a second to adjust to the semi-intruder and waking up from a very long nap. There is no pounding in my head, only a faint “off” feeling, which could be from the nap or could be the recovery from a migraine.

“I seem to be feeling better.” I sit up and Beck helps me by propping up my pillow behind me.

“Does that mean you’re up for some food?”

“Depends on two things. What time is it and what did you bring?”

Beck pushes a long strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture so gentle, as if he’s been doing that for years. “It’s a little past two and I brought burgers and waffle fries, figured the grease might help you out a bit. But now I think about it, grease helps with a hangover headache, not a migraine.”

I shrug my shoulders. “I bet grease helps with anything. I’m ready for it, bring it on.”

“Mind if I eat with you? I’m starving.”

“Of course not.” I toss some pillows to the ground and pat the bed next to me. “I’m not about to make you eat lunch by yourself when you brought me food. That would be very rude.”

“Very rude indeed.” With ease, Beck brings the food and drinks over in one swift transfer, balancing all the liquid like a professional. Placing a tray on the bed, he hops up next to me, his long legs stretching out further than mine. Instead of the shirtless, board-short wearing man I’ve gotten to know, Beck is dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a plain white T-shirt. The sleeves cling to his arms, and the tan he’s acquired makes the white of the shirt pop.

And then there is just something about a man not wearing socks and shoes with jeans. Something about him being barefoot in jeans is a bit of a turn-on for me. And even though I’m still feeling a little off, I’m not feeling off enough to not notice how extremely attracted I am to the man next to me.

My conversation with Zoey floats through my mind as Beck opens up the plate covers, revealing two giant burgers and waffle fries. Live in the moment. It’s what Beck has said to me over and over again in the last few days, every chance he’s felt my resistance.

I think maybe it’s time I truly listen.

“Thank you for bringing this over. You’re the best fake wedding date ever.”

“Not fake, Saucy, there is nothing fake between us.” He winks and then takes a huge bite of his burger. Talking with his mouth full, he asks, “Do you want to watch some TV?”

I chuckle. “I mean we’ve done everything else together for the most part, might as well watch some TV like an old married couple.”

Leaning over me, his broad body pressing against my petite frame, he snags the remote from the nightstand on my side of the bed and says, “Believe me, we haven’t done everything together. If we had, you’d know it.” Turning on the TV, he shoves a waffle fry in his mouth and adds, “What do you want to watch?”

“Not too particular, just no sports.”

“Not that kind of guy, so no worries there.”

A little surprised, I pop a fry in my mouth as well and ask, “No? Not a huge sports fan?”

“Nah, fell out of touch with life for a bit. During that time, I read more than anything so, I’ve become a reader.”

“Fell out of touch with life. What does that mean?” I know I’m being nosey, but I don’t care.

“A story for another time,” he answers, shutting down the topic before I can ask him more. “How about Seinfeld? Does this work?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s cool.”

Still reeling from Beck’s little hint into his life that I shouldn’t care about, I take a bite from my burger while he opens a bottle of water for me. “You’re going to want to drink up, hydrate as much as you can. I’ve had migraines before and they’re killer. Do you get them often?”

“Not really. I think this was more of a tension headache than anything.”

“Tense?” he asks the question so casually, as if he already knows the answer.

“Just a little.” I shy away, not wanting to look him in the face. Is he going to bring up last night? I hope not. I’m not in the mood to hash things out.

“So what happened last night? You kind of ran away from me.”

Well, there goes hoping. Should have known he’d bring it up. Beck doesn’t bullshit around, and if there is anything I’ve come to understand over these past couple days it’s that he gets straight to the point. He doesn’t tiptoe, or neglect an issue for that matter. Yet, in some ways, I’m annoyed too. He ran off on me the other night with one mention of Christine, whoever she is, and hasn’t offered any information about why he ran. Clearly, it was a hard topic, as he does seem to call a spade a spade. How do I play his question now? He’ll been angry if I put myself down . . .

“Yeah, about that. Weird, huh?” I answer, trying to play coy.

“Really weird.” He chuckles. “Especially since we were having a good time. One second, I had your sweet mouth all over mine, and the next, I was staring at your retreating back. I thought I’d get a solid kiss good night, but you stole that away from me before I could take it.”

“Gosh,” I shake my head, “What a bitch move.”

This makes Beck laugh wholeheartedly, from the depths of his rock-hard abs. The sound eases the tension I’ve been feeling. I’ve been overthinking this. I feel like I was given this opportunity to experience this man, to allow him to help me step out of my comfort zone, and instead of holding back, I should take a chance on what I can only imagine will be a night I’ll never forget.

Forget my reservations.

Forget what the future will hold for now.

Forget the last year and all the doctor visits.

And forget about the end of this trip.

Just focus on the here and now, because that’s the only thing I can control.

And right now I want to feel. Not think.