Page 30

BLAISE

I ’d hoped that all of the exercise I’d gotten today would have led to me being tired enough to pass out, but apparently that is not the case. I know this is absolutely ridiculous at this point, but here we are, and I need to do something about this fast.

With a heavy sigh, I reach for my phone on the nightstand, scrolling through my apps until I find the meditation one I downloaded months ago but never used.

In the three seconds it takes the app to load, I hear Tyler snore, and I’m reminded that I should grab my headphones, so I don’t disturb him. At least one of us can sleep.

I could watch some old content from some of my favorite streamers, but that would stimulate me versus making me tired.

I plug in my earbuds and tap on "Sleep Sounds.

" The app offers me a menu of options: Gentle Rain, Ocean Waves, Forest Night, White Noise.

I select Ocean Waves and set the timer for thirty minutes, hoping that's long enough to shut my brain down.

The sound of water swaying softly back and forth fills my ears and I close my eyes in an effort to try to focus on the sound instead of the slideshow of today's events playing behind my eyelids.

Willow kneeling in the dirt. David hovering too close to her.

The flash of irritation I felt watching him touch her hand.

"Breathe deeply," a soothing female voice tells me. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

I follow the instructions and feel slightly ridiculous. This isn't me. I don't do meditation apps. I solve problems through structure and planning, not breathing exercises.

But structure and planning aren't helping me now. Not with Willow.

The voice tells me to visualize a peaceful place. I immediately think of the beach from my morning run, except Willow is there, walking along the shoreline in that white dress from dinner.

"Focus on relaxing each part of your body," the voice continues. "Start with your toes."

I try. I really do. But by the time I'm supposed to be relaxing my shoulders, all I can think about is how tense they felt when David approached Willow, and how I couldn't stop myself from stepping in. He’s lucky that’s all I did to be honest. The thoughts that were flying through my mind in that moment would have landed all of us on a plane back home.

Knox would have done the same, I tell myself. I was just looking out for her like I promised.

But there was something else there. It was a surge of something possessive and irrational that almost made me act out of character.

I pull out one earbud and check the time. I've made it through twelve minutes of a thirty-minute session, and I'm no closer to sleep than when I started.

"Fuck this," I mutter as I yank out the other earbud.

I sit up in bed and run a hand through my hair. The room is dark except for the light coming from my phone. Tyler shifts in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent before settling again.

Maybe I need air. Maybe I need to clear my head. Maybe I just need to stop thinking about Willow Sanchez for five consecutive minutes.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and grab a t-shirt, pulling it over my head.

I throw on some gray sweatpants that I’d left folded on a chair near my bed.

Maybe a walk will make me tired, doing what I couldn’t manage to do with this mediation app.

I slip on my shoes and grab my room key and phone, making sure I’m careful not to wake Tyler.

I ease the door open and step into the hallway.

I think about heading to the beach again, but I end up slowing down when I hit the lobby. Maybe I'll find a chair in a corner and scroll through my phone until I'm too tired to keep my eyes open. I could have done it in my bed, but I’m hoping a change of scenery helps.

I take the stairs and when I reach the last step, I pause.

Because that's when I see her.

Willow is sitting on one of the oversized couches in the far corner, her laptop balanced on her knees.

She hasn't noticed me yet, probably because her hands are flying across the keyboard. Whatever she’s typing must be intense because I’m not sure if she’s given her hands a break in the time I’ve been staring at her.

She's wearing that oversized university hoodie again and I smirk at how it swallows her frame. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun with strands escaping around her face, and she looks just as stunning as she did when I saw her at dinner last night.

Hell. I should leave. Turn around and go back to my room before she sees me. But I can't seem to make myself move. There's something about seeing her like this that stops me from doing the logical thing. Instead, I walk closer to her.

Her head snaps up suddenly and I swear her green eyes immediately lock on me. I should say something. Anything. But my voice gets caught somewhere between my brain and my mouth. We just stare at each other for what feels like minutes but is probably only seconds.

She breaks first. "What do you want?" Her tone is sharp and defensive. Her walls are up before I've even spoken a word.

I don't answer right away because I’m not sure how to respond. The lobby is silent except for the hum of the air conditioning, and it makes everything more awkward.

“Nothing,” I finally say. “I couldn’t sleep and saw you down here, so I walked over. What are you working on?" I ask and don’t know how my answer and question are going to land with her.

The question seems to catch her off guard. Her eyes narrow slightly, and it’s as if she’s searching my face to see if I’m being sarcastic.

"Why do you care?" she asks, but I can tell she’s not being as defensive as she was just seconds ago. That’s a win in my book.

"I don't," I say automatically, then wince at how harsh it sounds. "I mean, I was just asking."

"I’m just...writing," she finally says. "Something about this trip."

"For the paper?" I take a step closer and am not sure if it’s the right move. I don’t want to crowd her but can’t help but step forward because I need to be closer.

She shakes her head. "No. Maybe. I don't know yet." She closes her laptop slightly, not all the way, but enough that I can't see the screen. "It's personal. I'm still figuring it out."

"Mind if I sit?" I gesture to the other end of the couch.

She hesitates, then shrugs one shoulder. "It's a free country."

I sink down onto the cushion and I make sure to leave plenty of space between us. "So," I venture, "personal writing?"

"Yeah." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was thinking about how to capture what we're experiencing here. Not just the volunteer work but...I don't know. The impact. The culture. The way of life. Like how it’s different from how we live in the US, but also the same."

She stops abruptly, like she's said too much. Her fingers tap nervously against her laptop.

"That sounds interesting," I say and mean it. "Different from your usual articles."

"That's kind of the point." Her voice has lost some of its edge. "I'm always chasing the next deadline, the next hot take. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just...creating noise."

I’m taken back by her confession, but I don’t want to let her know I am because it might end this conversation. "I get that."

"Do you?" She looks at me skeptically.

"Yeah. It's like...everything has to be urgent all the time. Breaking news. A clickbait headline. And people need to be able to absorb it in ten seconds or less. But sometimes we need to switch things up.”

She studies me for a moment. "That's...exactly it."

"But why are you up at—" she glances at her laptop screen, "—one in the morning?

I notice the subject change but don’t call her out on it. “I don't sleep well in new places."

"Most people love that about travel," she says, not judgmental, just observing. "Sleeping somewhere else. Having a break from routine."

"I'm not most people." I exhale slowly. "For me, routine isn't boring. It's...necessary."

She shifts slightly and I notice that she angles her body toward me. "Necessary? Why? Is it because of your anxiety?"

For a split second, I forgot I told her about that. And I’m surprised she remembered. "Yeah. Structure helps keep my mind from spiraling. Much like the color-coded notebooks."

That makes her laugh. “I actually think the color-coding is smart," she says. "Just don't tell anyone I said that. By the way. there’s something I wanted to ask you."

It’s the second time I’m taken by surprise in less than a minute. She actually wants to engage in a conversation with me? “What’s that?”

“What was up with your behavior toward David today?”

Oh. I should have expected the question, but I’m still taken aback. I hesitate as I give myself time to think because I have to decide whether to tell her the whole truth or to phrase this delicately because of how awkward this could become.

"He was being pushy. You clearly didn't want his help and he wasn't taking the hint. So I stepped in." There. That should be good enough.

She studies me, her green eyes narrowing slightly. "That's it?"

"Should there be more?" I counter, meeting her gaze head on.

"No, I guess not. I just...it seemed…oddly personal."

"It wasn't." The lie tastes bitter. I clear my throat. "I'd have done it for anyone."

"Right." She doesn't sound convinced. “Now drop the bullshit and tell the truth.”

Her direct challenge makes me freeze. I've spent so long constructing walls around my thoughts that having someone demand I tear them down is disorienting. But unleashing the feelings I have for her would cause more harm than good. I can’t tell her that if given the opportunity, I would have had her bent over the damn garden and showed David what I thought of him touching her.

I can't say that. Not to her face. Not when we're finally having a real conversation.

"Knox asked me to keep an eye on you," I admit and I watch as her expression hardens immediately. "But that's not why I stepped in. David was being a dick, and you were uncomfortable. That's all."

"My brother asked you to babysit me?" I can see the hell she’s about to unleash.

"He doesn’t want me to babysit you. Just...look out for you."

"I'm not his responsibility. And I'm definitely not yours." She shifts away from me, the small progress we'd made evaporating.

"I know that." It takes everything in me to not touch her. "Look, I would have said something even if Knox hadn't asked me to watch out for you. David was crossing a line."

She's quiet for a long moment, and I wonder if I've completely destroyed whatever fragile peace we'd established. "You're right," she finally says. "He was being pushy."

Well that went better than I expected.

"But," she continues, "I don't need you or Knox running interference for me. I've handled worse than David Miller."

I immediately think of Leo. I don’t have the full story, but I know enough to understand that whatever happened wasn't good. "Fair enough," I concede but I stop just short of saying I’ll back off. Because that would be one of the biggest lies I’ve ever told.

Silence stretches between us and I’m not sure how to label it. I don’t think she’s angry anymore, but I could be reading the tension between us wrong. What I do know is I need to speak up.

“I wasn’t trying to rescue you,” I say. “I just...couldn’t not say something.”

Willow turns her head and stares at me for several seconds before she asks, “Why?”

My throat tightens. “Because I saw your face. And I knew you were uncomfortable. That’s it.”

She doesn’t speak right away again but adjusts herself so she’s looking at her laptop. “I’m used to handling things alone,” she says eventually. “Mostly because I don’t tell Knox everything because I know he would freak. Plus, most guys don’t care enough to notice.”

I hate that that’s true.

“I’m not most guys,” I say before I can stop myself.

Her mouth twitches and a small smile forms. “Yeah. I’m starting to get that.”

I can’t let on how I’m affected by her comment. Instead I wait a few seconds and then clear my throat. “You want me to walk you back to your room?”

She glances at me, but this time it’s not with anger or suspicion. She looks surprised by the offer. Then she nods. “Yeah. Sure.”

And just like that, we stand without another word. I can confidently say that now we’re not friends but also not enemies. Hopefully it’s the start of something shifting into place. Whether I’m ready for anything that entails is another matter entirely.