Page 10 of Here for a Good Time

The villa is perched on the edge of a cliff with uninterrupted panoramic views of the Indian Ocean.

Outside, there’s a small private infinity swimming pool with a hot-tub section.

The entrance opens right into the living room, whose two large accordion glass doors leading to the exterior are currently pulled open, allowing the breeze to circulate through the whole place.

The room is decorated with hardwood furniture and neutral-toned linen fabrics that give off a crisp, minimalist vibe.

Leila takes us to the bedroom, where a plush king-sized bed faces the water.

On this side of the glass doors that lead out to the balcony, there are two large rattan one-seaters that face each other, a marble coffee table separating them.

In the bathroom, there are two separate marble sinks, a spacious rainfall shower in one corner, and (my personal favorite) a stand-alone claw tub by the window so you can take a bath with a view.

“Holy shit,” Zwe breathes, jaw practically on the hardwood floor as we circle back to the living room.

“This is literally the most gorgeous place I’ve ever stepped foot in,” I say, unable to process it all even though I was the one who booked this. It’s like we’ve stepped foot in one of those celebrity Architectural Digest videos.

We stand in a row at the edge of the pool, stunned by the sand, sea, and sky.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Leila says. She closes her eyes and takes in a deep inhale.

“My family has lived on this island for generations. When I was growing up, resorts like this were things we only saw on TV. Sometimes I can’t believe I work at a place like this now.

In fact—” She points down to a spot on the beach.

“—that’s where my parents got married. Of course, none of this is in their wedding photos.

All you’ll see in the background is, well, jungle. ”

“Does your family still live on the island?” I ask.

With a small smile, Leila looks back, over the villa and toward the mountains in the distance.

Zwe and I follow her gaze, but all I see is the looming silhouettes of nature.

“Only a few at this point. Most of my aunts and uncles moved to the Philippines, which is the closest mainland country, and the rest have gone a little farther down south to Indonesia. None of my cousins actually grew up here, although we visit each other regularly, which is how we’ve remained so close.

The older members have stayed, though, like my grandparents and their siblings.

They’ve relocated up there to the mountains in the woods.

Less to worry about when a storm comes in,” she explains.

“So in a sense, this”—I make a wide sweeping motion with one hand—“is your hometown?”

She lets out a sweet laugh. “I suppose in a sense it is.” Stepping back toward the room, she walks over to the large wooden desk in the corner where there’s a welcome basket with an assortment of snacks.

“Your key cards are over there. They’ll give you access to the gym and sauna as well.

There’s also a book of all the activities we can arrange for you, complimentary of course.

And if you need anything at all, my number is here—” She picks up the small business card (printed in the same style as Sandra’s) sitting at the front of the basket.

“Whether you want me to book you in for the spa or one of our activities—snorkeling is popular amongst our guests—or you require an extra set of towels, please don’t hesitate to text or call me.

I’m on duty twenty-four hours.” My face scrunches at that, because surely she can’t be on call 24/7.

As though reading my mind, she adds politely, “It’s my job. ”

“Thank you so much,” I say. “By the way, I was trying to recover from sea legs earlier so I didn’t get to tip Antonio and Eka, but if you three—” I’m reaching for my wallet in my bag but Leila raises a hand.

“We don’t accept gratuities here,” she says. I open my mouth to insist, but she insists first. “Management ensures that all employees are paid fair wages. I truly appreciate it, Ms. Poe, but any money you give me will simply be transferred to bar and dining credits for your stay.”

“Are you sure?” I ask after a pause. “I don’t—”

“Like I said, it is genuinely appreciated,” Leila assures me, smile still bright. “But I cannot accept it.”

“Okay, well, if there’s anything I can do to show my appreciation, you’ll let me know?”

She nods. “Deal.” The sound of the doorbell travels down the corridor, and Zwe and I turn to each other, confused.

Leila, though, is already heading for the door like she expects just this.

“Oh, and speaking of deals—” she calls out while accepting something from the person on the other side.

When she turns around, she’s carrying a small tray with a familiar light orange drink.

She walks straight to Zwe and hands him the glass. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

He grins, taking the drink. “Not a chance.”

It’s not on purpose, but I can’t not notice his fingers grazing hers during the few seconds where both of their hands are wrapped on either side of the tall, thin, translucent glass.

He’s smiling that big Zwe smile, dimples imprinted, cheeks reddening like someone swiped on the lightest layer of blush.

This time, they’re both definitely flirting.

“By the way, will the bed—” Leila clears her throat, trying to pose the question tactfully.

“—situation be… okay?” She gestures over at the bedroom, and it takes me a few beats to realize she’s referring to the fact that there’s only one bed.

“This room has always been reserved by couples and we assumed since there were two names on the booking… but we could set up another villa,” she adds quickly.

In retrospect, I should’ve asked Zwe if he was cool with having to share a bed, especially because now it feels weird since he and Julia are in contact again.

But none of the villas had an option for twin beds, and unless one of us took the couch (or worse, the floor) or forked out the money for an entire separate villa, this was the only solution.

Besides, we’ve shared beds before in hostels and group trip scenarios, and given that it’s a massive bed, I’d assumed he would’ve been fine with it.

It’s never been a big deal. If needs be, I figured we could sleep with our heads on either end.

Now, I’m scared that I’ve screwed up something so basic.

“Just so you’re aware, this one does have the best view out of all our rooms.” Leila indicates out the window at the magnificent view in question. “But we could arrange one nearby so you’ve got a similar view, that is, if you don’t mind giving us a couple of hours and the additional payment.”

“We don’t need another villa,” Zwe says quickly at the mention of more money being spent. “We don’t want to trouble you. This place is more than big enough for two people.”

“In that case, if you’d like, we can set up some sort of extra sleeping arrangement here. Maybe in the living room if you’d prefer?” Leila looks expectantly between the two of us. “I could swap out the sofa for a twin bed?”

“Do you—” I start.

“I’m good if—” he begins.

We shift in an awkward dance.

Finally, Zwe ventures, “I’m cool with it if you are?” I meet his gaze, nod, and then nod at Leila to double confirm. “It’ll be like we’re back in that hostel in Paris that only had one bunk bed left,” he adds with a lighthearted laugh.

“Ah yes, the one where the rat got into the lockers and chewed through my underwear,” I say.

Leila raises one hand solemnly. “I promise there aren’t any underwear-chewing rats here,” she says, and we all laugh, and the weirdness in the air seems to blow back out with the breeze.

After she leaves, I plop down on the edge of the bed. Zwe sits beside me, but doesn’t lie down on account of the drink in his hand.

“You liiiike her—” I singsong.

“What?” Our eyes meet, and he raises one brow. “Who?”

I raise both of mine in return. “Who do you think? You have a little crush on our villa host.”

“I do not—”

“Hey, I get it, she’s gorgeous.” And Leila is. Even swept into a bun, you can tell her hair has those natural beach waves that take me three to five separate hair products to re-create. She’s tall, with toned calves and arms. “Also, her boobs are amazing .”

At that, Zwe coughs on his drink. “She was wearing a polo shirt, you perv.”

“Please, you can totally tell that the boobs underneath are amazing. Don’t act like you weren’t thinking the same.”

“You’re a menace,” he grumbles, looking away as though his reaction might confirm what I already know to be true.

We sit in silence for a bit longer, the travel exhaustion finally catching up to us. Outside, the sun is starting to set, and like with everything else on this island, it looks magnificent. A warm-toned, cotton-candy dream.

“Do you want to go to the restaurant, or get room service for dinner?” I ask.

“To be honest, I’m kind of beat,” he says as he chews on shaved ice. “I vote room service.”

“Are you sure? What if Leila’s unwinding with a drink at the bar tonight?”

He snorts, then nods over at the desk. “I’ve got her number, remember?”

I point a finger gun at him. “Smooth.”

After long, warm showers, and bundling up in luxurious cotton bathrobes on the sofa that’s bigger than any I’ve ever owned, we watch an episode of MasterChef with our room service.

When Zwe gets up and carries the tray to leave outside the villa, the low murmur of dread that had been present throughout dinner gets louder.

“So,” Zwe says when he returns. He lingers in the hallway, and by the way he clears his throat, it’s obvious we’re both thinking the same thing.

“This is only weird if we make it weird,” I say.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he teases, but the uneasiness in the room is tangible.