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Dillon couldn’t help but take a second glance at her smile. She loved the way she took it all in stride. The way she could stand there, covered in mud, without a care in the world.

Kelsey would have hated this. For her, an impromptu hike up a muddy trail would have fallen just below the Ninth Circle of Dante’s Inferno. It had always mystified Dillon that a woman who earned her living as a professional footballer—required to make spur-of-the-moment decisions, accept hard knocks, and spend her life covered in splattered mud and grass stains—could remain so rigid and particular off the pitch.

She shoved the thoughts of Kelsey aside. She knew she shouldn’t be comparing her to this girl, anyhow.

Stopping to catch their breath, Dillon leaned against the winding trunk of a hala and pointed down over the peninsula.

“There,” she said, indicating the massive mound of lava rock detached from the hill of Ka’uiki. “Pu’Uku Islet Bird Sanctuary.” Hundreds of wedge-tailed shearwaters and white-tailed tropicbirds were weaving and diving between the crashing waves, preparing to burrow in for the evening. It wasn’t much to look at—the islet itself was little more than a hunk of solidified volcanic matter—but the saffron glow of the setting sun cast a metallic sheen atop the silvery wings of the seabirds, their glittering backs reflecting the light where the clouds had turned the sky into something ethereal.

Dropping onto the lava rock, Dillon dangled her legs over the ledge, joined a second later by Kameryn. A light drizzle had begun to fall, stirring a breeze up from the ocean. They sat in silence, allowing the rainfall to wash the clay from their skin and clothing.

“How’d you find this place?” Kam asked after a few minutes, staring over the blanket of cobalt water. The rain had darkened her long brown hair, turning it almost black, a dramatic contrast to the medley of color all around them.

“I was told by one of the locals no one could swim out to this part of the island. That the Hawaiian god who created this hill made the current too strong.” She tossed a porous stone intothe breaking waves a hundred feet below. “So I accepted the challenge.”

Kameryn half laughed, shifting her gaze to catch Dillon’s eye, before looking back at the horizon. “Of course you defied the gods. It must be nice to have that kind of confidence.”

“Trust me, I didn’t always.”

Her thoughts drifted to long mornings in Hamburg, Henrik forcing her to swim through tides she was certain would drown her.

Again, Schätzchen. Swim it again.

She shook the memory from her mind. It killed her that he still lived rent free inside her head, even after all these years.

To hell with him.

In a fluid swing, she gained her feet and looked down at Kameryn. She wasn’t about to let her past ruin what had turned out to be the perfect afternoon.

“Sometimes you just have to be willing to close your eyes and dive head first into the unknown—see where the current takes you.” She held out her hand, wavering on an arch smile. “What do you say, Kam-Kameryn?”

To her surprise, Kam remained unflustered by her boldness, offering instead a coquettish tilt of her head. She leaned back to look up at her. “Are we still talking about swimming?”

Outplayed at her own game, an uncommon flush crept up Dillon’s neck as Kameryn took her hand.

Yeah, she was way past trying not to get her hopes up.

Scene 5

I should have been anxious to fly home. In the section of my brain labeledsensible, I knew my focus should have been on nothing more than the bright lights of Tinseltown. I mean, four days earlier I’d landed the most coveted role in the film industry. I’d beat out thousands—tensof thousands—of twenty-something hopefuls. I’d spent more than half a year jumping through hoops for the studio, knowing it was likely all for nothing. Only, it hadn’t been for nothing. My career was about to sky rocket into a dimension I found incomprehensible.

I shouldn’t have had to keep reminding myself.

I should have been refreshing my emails every three minutes to see if Aaron sent anything new, or scrolling obsessively through the best scoop-worthy sites, searching for casting rumors. In sticking with time-honored tradition, I should have been riding a rollercoaster of erratic emotions—levitating through an endless cycle of boosting myself up, certain I would rise to the challenge, and then drowning in a wave of panic: What if I wasn’t up to the task? What if I wasn’t talented enough? Charismatic enough? What if my chemistry was off with my co-stars? Whoweremy co-stars? What if the production was a flop? And then resurfacing to remind myself I’d won the job off talent and merit alone.Theywantedme. Because I was perfect for the role. I was going to ace it. But whatif…?

And so on and so forth, until I drove myself insane.

To be fair, each time it did cross my mind, my stomach made a queasy somersault with the realization it was not a dream. This was actually happening.

But honestly, those moments were fleeting.

The truth was, the only thing really on my mind, was Dillon. This girl I hardly knew. Who I would probably never see again.

Trekking back from Ka’uiki Head, all I could think about was how many times our hands brushed as we descended the slippery terrain. I found myself caught up in trying to decide the color of her hair—was it flaxen or ash—did she highlight it, or had the platinum streaks come natural by way of the sun? I wondered if it bugged her the way the rain had caused her bangs to hang in her eyes. I searched for ways to make her laugh, feeling as if I’d won the lottery with every success. And too many times—as I struggled to keep up with her energetic stride—I caught myself wondering what exactly the tattoo was on her shoulder, teasing a preview beneath the material of her tank top.

But more than anything, I wondered what the hell it was I thought I was doing?

I wasn’t a lesbian. I mean, at twenty-three years old, wouldn’t I have known that by now? Or at least had a sneaking suspicion? Half a dozen boyfriends later, my obsession with Harry Styles, and, of course, there was always Carter—On-Again-Off-Again-Carter, as Dani had coined him.