Xander and I slide down to the bottom until our heads rest next to each other. We prop our feet up onto the seats along the sides, the swaying of the boat more prominent from this position.
“Can you believe that motherfucker?” he asks.
“I can believe something so ridiculous happened to you, yes.” I shift closer to him. “You seem to attract a lot of angry animals. Should I be worried about hanging out with you?”
Laughter racks our bodies as we stare at the clear sky.
“That thing was scarier than if a megalodon had appeared or if I’d somehow found myself in Themyscira with the Amazons.”
I groan between giggles. “Either of those scenarios are more plausible than the day you admit you like egg whites.”
“Or the day you admit you’re bad at volleyball.” His shoulder shakes against mine as he slaps a hand over his mouth like he didn’t mean to say that—he knows I have a competitive edge.
“How dare you.” I jerk up into a sitting position and shove him to the side. “I kicked your ass at beach volleyball, and you’re just too stubborn to give me a compliment.”
“I kept having to chase the ball into the water.” He snorts, squeezing his eyes closed as I continue nudging him like I’m trying to throw him overboard.
Which isn’t a bad idea.
“At one point, I thought I’d get carried away with the current all because you couldn’t hit the ball on land even once,” he continues goading me. “Tell me one thing—would it have been worth it?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” I joke, falling onto my back next to him again, the sun rays filling my skin and soul with Vitamin D.
“You’re as cold as ice, I tell you.” He clasps his fingers behind his head, his thick bicep tickling the edge of his ear. “Captain Rick mentioned these turtles can live into their eighties, sometimes even to a hundred. I think my nemesis was an old, cranky bastard.”
“He’s your nemesis now? You’re not actually in a DC comic.”
“What else am I supposed to call him when I tell this story to everyone I know? Harold?”
“Oh God, you’re going to work a killer sea turtle into a screenplay, aren’t you?” I roll my eyes.
It doesn’t even matter what we’re talking about. The most important thing right now is that Xander and I are back to joking freely—the way we used to be.
It’s easy and fun, and I’m thankful we’re back to a good place, even if it took a sea creature nearly scarfing down his foot for lunch in order to get here.
I reach over to lift the weighted seat cushion and reach inside the hollow bench for my phone. After I fish it out of my bag, I hold it high and snap a few pictures of us.
I laugh into his shoulder, the ends of his damp hair tickling my forehead, while he murmurs about ridiculous plotlines he has in mind.
No matter what baggage we brought with us to this tropical island and how much we further complicated things yesterday, right now, we’re just two people in paradise.
Normally, I’ve barely taken the picture before I swipe to Instagram, add my branded filter, and post along with a cheeky caption.
But right now, my first and loudest thought is to keep these images in a separate album as mementos. To look at them as proof that I’m alive and well and happy—with the one person who took me by surprise.
I’m in the moment, and Xander is making me realize how rarely I do that anymore. He’s given me a new perspective on a lot of things, actually. For one, how unhealthy I’ve been in relationships, even before Jason.
Being on this trip with my friend has made me rethink what I want in a guy and how I should feel when I’m with one. How I should be free to be myself.
I might have ignored my phone for the beginning of this trip out of stubbornness and fear of humiliation, but the guy next to me has made it so much easier to enjoy myself.
Xander Logan is definitely a game changer.