She rolls her eyes.
"Emma, you're gorgeous, and you know it. You see the way Sam looks at you."
"I do, that's not what I'm talking about, though. In a span of about fourteen seconds, you had three men drooling over you, and you're standing there with resting sea witch face because Eric is late."
"You're just noticing it because it's a condensed environment. A lot more guys around than usual," she argues.
I glance around at the people milling around the resort, some head to the lobby for dinner and others make their way back toward the guest rooms or down onto the sand.
"There do seem to be a lot of guys here. I've been noticing that."
Bellamy shrugs.
"It's an island. If girls are running around low on both inhibitions and clothing, the men will flock." She looks back to the building and throws her hands up. "There he is. Come on; I'm starving."
In the middle of the night, I wake up with my heart pounding hard enough in my chest for me to feel the reverberations to the tips of my toes and through the top of my head. My throat feels dry, and my bottom lip stings where I've bitten down into it. My eyes flick frantically around the room, trying to make sense out of the shapes in the darkness. Shadows stretch and condense, molding and morphing into monsters and nothingness. Finally, my brain snaps the rest of the way into consciousness, and I drop back down into the pillow.
My nightmares have followed me.
I try to close my eyes and will myself back to sleep, but every nerve and fiber of my being is crackling with alertness. I toss and turn and pull the pillow over my head, but it’s no use. Finally, I get up and slip into the white satin robe hanging from the back of the bathroom door.
Crossing the room to the balcony, I do the trick Graciela taught me and step out into the cooler night air. The humidity is gone, and the breeze that carries the scent of night-blooming flowers and ripening fruit is soft against my skin. I lean against the banister and look out over the grounds of the resort below.
My room has a beautiful view of the ocean. I watch the waves shift back and forth under the moonlight for a few moments before my attention is drawn down to the people still roaming around. It's well past midnight, but they don't seem to notice. Couples cozied up close to each other walk along the brick path and down the grassy slope into the sand. Solitary men walk faster, their strides more driven and determined. Some head in the direction of the lobby, and others walk away from the guest building, perhaps toward the pool.
I'm about to go back inside for a drink when I see someone rush out of the shadows near the building. Even from a distance, I can see it's Graciela. A second later, a man follows her and reaches out to put his hand on her shoulder. She turns to him, and he steps up close. I think he's going to kiss her, but instead, they share a few close exchanges before she rushes away. The man, who isn't dressed like a member of the staff, but rather a guest at the resort, puts his hands on his hips and hangs his head for a few seconds before walking swiftly away.
Thinking over the exchange, I go back into my room and pour myself a glass of the fresh fruit juice I found in the tiny refrigerator after checking in. A little note attached to the pitcher invited me to enjoy the juice of the local fruit harvested right on the grounds of the resort and promised new flavors each day.
I bring the juice along with a lightweight blanket from the foot of the bed and my book back out onto the balcony, curl up on the chaise lounge, and stare out over the ocean to wait for sunrise.
Chapter Fourteen
At some point during the wee hours of the morning, I managed to drift back off to sleep. I wake up to the sound of birds calling and waves crashing on the beach below. The fresh air fills my lungs as I stretch out down the length of the chaise lounge and look up at a morning sky just starting to turn blue. There is precisely one cloud on the horizon, big and puffy, and the rest is bright and clear. Sunny skies indeed.
Through the open balcony door, I hear something in my room, and when I look back through the glass, I see Graciela slip quietly inside. She has her head down as she tucks the key card into the pocket of her apron and quickly moves her hand to support the tray she's balancing on her opposite forearm.
“You're here early,” I note, standing up from the chaise lounge and stepping into the doorway.
She startles and grabs onto the new pitcher of juice to prevent it from toppling off the tray.
“Oh,” she exclaims. “You're up.”
“I'm sorry,” I say. “I didn't mean to surprise you... again.”
“It's fine,” she says. “I should expect you to be in your own room. I just didn't think you would be up this early.”
“I didn't think you would be coming in this early,” I tell her. “How do you clean rooms when people are still asleep?”
She smiles.
“I don't start cleaning the rooms until later,” she explains. “This early, I just come by to leave your juice and pick up any dishes from the night before.” She settles the tray down onto a nearby table. “But I'm not the earliest one to come by.”
She reaches down and scoops something up off the floor, holding it out to me.
“What's that?” I ask, walking toward her to take it.
“The menu for the day,” she says. “A new one is slipped under your door every
