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"Shit!" he yelps as water cascades across the cobblestones. "Sorry, sorry?—"

"Tyler, it's water." Madison laughs as she steps out of the splash zone. "Not acid."

"I know, but—" He scrambles to pick up the bottle. "I'm usually more coordinated than this."

"Usually?" Madison grins, bending down to help him retrieve the bottle. "So this is abnormal Tyler behavior?"

"Very abnormal," he confirms as he begins to blush. "I blame the alcapurrias. They've scrambled my brain with their deliciousness."

"That's the most ridiculous excuse I've ever heard." I laugh, watching him try to shake the remaining water off his hands.

"It's a perfectly valid excuse," Tyler replies. "Food-induced clumsiness is a real phenomenon."

"Is it now?" Blaise asks, his voice dry with amusement.

"Absolutely. It's right up there with vacation brain and—" Tyler gestures wildly while trying to think of something, but all he comes up with is air.

Madison dissolves into giggles, and the sound is so infectious that soon we're all laughing.

"Vacation brain?" Blaise repeats, raising an eyebrow as he steps closer to me to avoid a group of tourists pushing past us with oversized shopping bags.

His hand briefly touches the small of my back as he guides me out of their path, and the simple contact sends electricity down my spine. When the crowd passes, he doesn't immediately move away.

"You know," Tyler continues, "when you're somewhere new and your brain just...stops working properly."

"I think that's just you, Ty," Madison teases, but her attention is already shifting to another food stall. "Ooh, what are those?" She points to a vendor selling what looks like shaved ice topped with colorful syrups.

"Piraguas," Blaise says, his voice close to my ear. The warmth of his breath makes me shiver despite the temperature outside. "Want to try one?"

I turn to look at him. "Yeah," I whisper. "I'd like that."

Madison and Tyler are already heading toward the piragua vendor, but Blaise doesn't move toward them. Instead, he glances around, then nods toward a tree and I’m immediately transported back to the incident between us at El Yunque.

"Come here for a second," he says quietly.

I follow him to the shaded spot beneath the tree. "What—" I start, but he's already pulling out his phone.

"I want a picture," he says simply, holding it up. "Just us."

The request catches me off guard. We've been so careful, so deliberate about maintaining distance in public. "Blaise..."

"Not for anyone else," he clarifies quickly, his voice soft. "Just for me. For us."

It’s then I realize this isn't about showing off or making some grand statement. It's about capturing this moment, this feeling, this thing we can't quite name yet.

"Okay," I whisper.

He steps closer and his free arm comes around my waist, pulling me against his side, and I let myself melt into him for just this moment.

"Smile," he says, but I'm already smiling because how could I not? The way he's looking at me, like I'm something precious he wants to remember forever, makes it impossible not to.

He snaps the shot, but neither of us moves apart immediately. Instead, we stay frozen in this bubble, his arm around me, my hand resting on his chest where I can feel his heartbeat racing.

"Let me see," I say softly.

He turns the phone so we can both look at the screen, and I’m somewhat surprised by what I see.

We look...happy. Like any other couple you’d find walking down the street.

My hair is slightly messy, and Blaise looks probably the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.

Our smiles look genuine and don’t give away any of the secrets we’ve been keeping from the world.

"It's perfect," I say as I look up at him.

"Yeah," he agrees, but he's not looking at the photo anymore. He's looking at me.

For a moment, I think he might kiss me right here in broad daylight with Madison and Tyler just fifty feet away. The thought should terrify me, but instead, it makes me lean closer.

"Willow! Blaise!" Madison's voice brings this moment to a quick halt. "You have to try this coconut one!"

"Coming!" I call back to Madison.

Blaise pockets his phone, and for a second his fingers brush against mine. "We should?—"

"Yeah," I interrupt, not trusting myself to hear whatever he was about to say.

As we start to make our way toward Madison and Tyler, Blaise says something that almost stops me in my tracks. "When we get back to campus, what happens to us? We only have two more days before we head back to Virginia."

I've been so careful to not think about it although it’s been sitting there like the elephant in the room. Two more days. Then we're back to being Knox's sister and Knox's best friend, back to pretending whatever this is doesn't exist.

"I don't know," I admit, but keeping my voice low just in case Madison and Tyler can hear us. Not that it matters so much since they both know what we did a few nights ago, but this still feels like it should be a conversation for Blaise and me. "I keep trying not to think about it."

"But you have been thinking about it." It's not a question. He knows me well enough now and I hate it and like it at the same damn time.

"Haven't you?" I counter, stealing a glance at his profile.

His jaw tightens slightly. "Every fucking day since we got here let alone after we spent the night together."

"What do you want to happen?" I ask, then immediately want to take the question back. Too late for that now.

Blaise is quiet for so long I start to think he's not going to answer. When he finally speaks, it’s as if he’s flipped my world on its axis. "I want to keep seeing you. I want to figure out what this is without having to sneak around like teenagers."

"But Knox?—"

"Knox is my best friend, but he doesn't get to dictate my life. Or yours. I'm tired of letting fear make decisions for me."

The determination in his words should be reassuring, but instead it makes my stomach twist into one big knot.

Because while he's talking about not letting fear control him, I'm drowning in it.

Fear of Knox's reaction, of changing the dynamic between all of us, of what happens if this thing between Blaise and me crashes and burns.

"It's complicated," I say and immediately feel lame for pointing it out.

"Everything worthwhile is complicated."

I want to argue with him, to point out all the ways this could go wrong, but Madison's laughter reminds me we're not alone.

"We should catch up," I say, nodding toward where Madison and Tyler are now trying different flavored syrups on their piraguas.

"Willow." Blaise catches my wrist gently, stopping me. "We don't have to figure it all out right now. But I need you to know I don't want this to end when we get on that plane."

"I don't want it to end either," I whisper.

Relief floods his features. "Good. That's...good."

"But I'm scared," I add, because honesty seems to be the theme of this conversation.

"Of what?"

Of everything, I want to say. Of my brother's reaction, of what this could do to the team dynamics, of the way you make me feel. Of what happens if you decide I'm not worth the complications.

Instead, I just say, "Of it not working out. Of making everything weird."

"Things are already weird," he points out with a small smile. "Good weird, but weird."

Before I can respond, Tyler appears beside us with two piraguas in hand. "Okay, you two have to settle a debate. Madison thinks the coconut is better, but I'm team mango. Here, try both."

He thrusts the shaved ice treats toward us, and I'm thankful for the interruption. Blaise and I each take a spoonful of each flavor, our fingers brushing as we pass the cups between us.

"Definitely coconut," I declare after tasting both.

"Mango," Blaise says at the same time.

Tyler throws his hands up in victory. "See? I told you mango was superior."

"You told me no such thing," Madison protests, appearing with her own coconut piragua. "You said, and I quote, 'I think maybe mango might be good.'"

"That's basically the same thing."

"That's not even close to the same thing."

I smirk as I watch them bicker, but part of my mind is still stuck on Blaise's words. I don't want this to end when we get on that plane. The problem is, I don't know how to want something this big without also being terrified of it.

After Blaise buys our piraguas and we start walking again, he falls into step beside me.

His hand brushes against mine as we navigate through a crowd, and for just a moment, his fingers catch mine and squeeze.

It's a small gesture that is more than likely not noticeable to anyone else, but it feels like a promise. Or maybe a question.

Either way, I squeeze back.