Page 33

WILLOW

T he nightlife in San Juan is everything that I wanted and so much more. Not that I have so much experience with night life since I’m under twenty-one, but being able to walk into a bar or club here since the minimum age is eighteen is already a step up for me. But that’s just the starting point.

This whole street feels like a celebration someone forgot to end.

Every bar is pulsing with music, each one competing to be louder than the last. Normally this much sound and movement would have me overstimulated and looking for a way out, but tonight it feels like freedom . And I want to be part of all of it.

"This is amazing!" Madison yells.

She needs to raise her voice because of the reggaetón beat coming out of the nearest bar. She looks like she can’t believe this is real either. I think we’re both pinching ourselves mentally to confirm we are actually here and get to have this experience.

Blaise, Tyler, David, and a few other people from our group are walking behind us.

I've been hyperaware of Blaise's presence behind me since we left the restaurant.

Every time I laugh too loudly or lean into Madison while we walk, I can feel his eyes on me.

It's like there's a spotlight following me around, and he's the one holding it. Or he’s still very fixated on this whole bodyguard job that my brother promoted him to.

"Where do we even start?" I ask, but I’m already being pulled by the wrist toward a glowing purple-and-gold bar with an open front and a brass band layered over electronic beats. Curiosity wins. It always does.

The place is packed, and I quickly realize it is standing-room only near the bar. But for some reason, it doesn’t feel claustrophobic. It feels electric.

"First round's on me," a voice says behind us, and I realize how close this person is to me because I can hear them clearly despite the music.

I turn to find Blaise standing close enough that I catch a hint of his cologne over the mingled scents of rum and salt air. I look over his shoulder and wonder if it’s a coincidence that he’s positioned himself between David and me.

"You don't have to do that," I say, but in order for him to hear me, I have to turn my head so that I can say it in his ear. It brings us even closer together.

"I want to." His gaze holds mine for a beat too long before he turns toward the crowded bar. "What does everyone want?"

Madison immediately perks up. "Something tropical. Surprise me."

"Beer," Tyler calls out, already scanning the room, but for what, I have no idea.

David steps closer to me with that persistent smile still plastered on his face. "I'll take whatever the lady's having," he says, nodding toward me.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "I haven't ordered yet."

"Then I'll wait," he says, like this is somehow charming instead of mildly irritating.

Blaise stares him down before he turns to me. "What do you want, Willow?"

The way he says my name makes me want to melt into the ground or swoon. Or something equally as ridiculous. There's an edge to it and I like it more than I should.

"Hmmm…maybe a pina colada? OH in the pineapple!" I say, still looking at him. I’d seen a few vendors selling them on the way here and now seems like the perfect opportunity to order one.

"Perfect. Tyler, help me grab the drinks?" He turns to look at Tyler and when Tyler gives him the okay, they make their way through the crowd toward the bar.

Before I can process that he left, David slides into the space Blaise vacated. "So, pineapple drinks, huh? Very tropical of you."

"It's Puerto Rico," I say flatly. "Seemed appropriate."

“Touché, touché. You know," David continues, leaning closer so I can hear him over the music. "I was thinking we should explore more of the city tomorrow. Just the two of us."

Madison catches my eye and raises an eyebrow. I can practically see her biting back a laugh.

"That's sweet," I say, taking a step back to create some space between us, "but I think we have group activities planned."

"Not all day though, right?" David's smile never wavers. "Come on, don't you want to see the real San Juan? Not just the touristy stuff?"

"I'm pretty sure everything we're doing is the real San Juan," Madison interjects, and I could kiss her for it. "That's kind of the point of the trip."

David glances at her briefly before turning his attention back to me. "Sure, but wouldn't it be more fun with just...the two of us?"

The way he says it makes my skin crawl slightly. There's something about his persistence that reminds me too much of Leo. The way he'd never take no for an answer, always pushing until I gave in just to make it stop.

"I like the group dynamic," I say firmly. "More people means more perspectives. More opportunities to learn."

David's smile falters for just a second before he recovers. "Right, perspectives. But sometimes you need to step away from the group to really experience a place, you know?"

"I think I'm experiencing plenty," I say, gesturing around us.

Madison steps closer to me, creating a subtle barrier. "Besides, we're roommates. We've got plenty of girl time planned already when we have some free time on the schedule." She gives David a pointed look. "Right, Willow?"

"Absolutely," I say as I shoot Madison a look that I hope shows how grateful I am that she’s doing this. "We've got so much planned."

Before David can respond, Blaise and Tyler return, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see Blaise in my life. He appears at my side, holding out a pineapple drink that looks exactly like what I'd imagined—complete with a little paper umbrella and everything.

"One pina colada in a pineapple," he says, extending it toward me.

When I reach for it, our fingers brush against each other as he transfers the drink to my hands.

The contact sends a jolt up my arm that has nothing to do with the music or the energy of the bar.

His fingers linger just a moment longer than necessary before he pulls away, but I don't mention it. Can't mention it.

"Thank you," I manage to say before taking a sip. The drink is sweet and cold and exactly what I needed to cool down the heat that's been building in my chest all evening.

Blaise nods, then hands Madison her drink. It’s something pink and fruity with way too many garnishes. Tyler gets his beer, and David receives his pina colada with significantly less ceremony. Lowkey, I’m surprised Blaise brought him anything back.

"So," Madison says, raising her glass, "to Puerto Rico and new experiences!"

We all clink our drinks together, but I notice Blaise's eyes stay on me even as he touches his beer bottle to everyone else's.

The drinks disappear faster than I expected.

The pina colada is dangerously smooth, and the tropical sweetness masks whatever rum content is making my limbs feel loose and warm.

Madison drains her pink concoction and immediately starts swaying to the reggaetón beat that's practically vibrating through the floor.

"I need to dance," she announces, grabbing Tyler's arm. "Come on, you're my partner."

Tyler panics. "I don't really?—"

"Everyone can dance to this," Madison insists, already pulling him toward the crowded dance floor. "It's just moving to the beat!"

I watch them disappear into the mass of bodies, Madison's coral dress a bright splash of color as she spins Tyler around. He's laughing despite himself, and I can't help but smile at how she's managed to drag him out of his shell.

That's when David strikes.

"Perfect timing," he says, moving to stand directly in front of me. "Now we can have a dance."

I'm about to decline—politely but firmly—when I catch sight of Blaise over David's shoulder. He's gripping his beer bottle so tightly his knuckles have gone white. His jaw is clenched, and there's something dark and possessive in his eyes as he watches David lean closer to me.

The rational part of my brain knows I should say no. Should maintain the boundaries I've been trying to establish all day. But the irrational part, the part that's been wound tight since the rainforest, since that moment against the tree, wants to see what happens if I push.

"You know what?" I hear myself saying, my eyes still locked on Blaise. "Sure. Let's dance."

Blaise's expression shifts so quickly I almost miss it. The careful control he's maintained all evening cracks, just for a second, and what I see underneath makes my stomach nearly leave my body. Jealousy.

David's face lights up like he's won the lottery. "Really? Great!" He sets down his drink and extends his hand. "Come on, let's get out there."

I take his hand but keep watching Blaise. His beer bottle hits the bar with more force than necessary, and I see him take a step forward before stopping himself.

Perfect.

David leads me onto the dance floor and immediately pulls me closer than I'd prefer, his hands finding my waist as he tries to guide me into some approximation of salsa.

"You're a natural," he says, spinning me around clumsily.

I'm not really listening to him. Over his shoulder, I can see Blaise standing at the edge of the dance floor, his eyes tracking every move we make. When David dips me slightly, Blaise's jaw tightens. When David's hand slides lower on my back, I watch Blaise's control fracture a little more.

"This is fun," David continues, pulling me against him as the song shifts to something slower and more sensual. "I knew you'd be a good dancer."

His hand is definitely too low now, resting just above the curve of my ass. I should move it, should create distance, but I'm too focused on the way Blaise is staring at us. At me.

I turn away and look at my dance partner for a second. He gives me that award-winning smile just before I speak. "David," I start, finally ready to establish some boundaries.

But before I can finish the sentence, I hear, "Mind if I cut in?" Blaise's voice is calm, and I know it’s bullshit. I look over at him immediately and know my plan worked. After all, Madison did say something about simple isn’t working for us, right?

David looks up, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "Actually, we were just?—"

"I wasn't asking you," Blaise says, his eyes never leaving mine. "I was being polite."

The threat in his tone is unmistakable. David's hands fall away from my waist immediately.

"Right. Sure. Of course." David steps back, hands raised in surrender. "All yours, man."

Blaise moves into the space David vacated, and suddenly the entire dance floor shrinks to just the two of us. His hands settle on my waist, firm and possessive, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

"That was rude," I say.

"Was it?" His thumbs trace small circles against my hip bones through the thin fabric of my dress. "Or was it necessary?"

The music shifts again, something slower and more intimate. Blaise pulls me closer, and I don't resist. Our bodies align perfectly, and I can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

"You're jealous," I observe, my hands coming up to rest against his chest.

"Am I?"

"You are." I let my fingers trace the edge of his shirt collar. "You couldn't stand watching him touch me."

His grip on my waist tightens. "Willow."

"What? It's true, isn't it?" I tilt my head back to look at him fully. "You could've said something when he asked."

"I didn't think it was appropriate," he says.

I tilt my head. "But isn't the saying see something, say something? If you had, then I wouldn’t have danced with him. And that would’ve made you a good boy.”

I have no idea why those words came out of my mouth, but I don’t regret them for a second.

Because it’s as if a light switch went off between us.

Instead of answering, he spins me around so my back is pressed against his chest. His arms cage me in, hands splayed across my stomach as we move together to the rhythm.

I can feel every line of his body against mine and there’s no place I would rather be.

"I tried to be good, but you just had to tempt me. Now I want to show him exactly who you belong to," he murmurs against my ear.

I know for a fact that these words are making me dizzy. "I don't belong to anyone."

"Don't you?" His lips brush against my neck, just below my ear. "Then why are you letting me hold you like this? Why aren't you pulling away?"

Because I can't. Because every rational thought has fled my brain, replaced by wanting to be held by him. My brother be damned. Because the careful walls I've built around my feelings for him are crumbling with every touch.

"This is dangerous," I whisper.

"I know." His arms tighten around me. "I don't care anymore."