Page 11 of Vitamin Sea

Outside the lobby, they were led to a golf cart, which their suitcases were loaded onto before she and Lala climbed in.

They zipped past naked bodies as they bumped along the path towards their room, colloquially known as the Reserve Suite, which was more of a cottage than a simple room.

It was stellar—a beach view, two bedrooms—one on each side of the cottage—with outdoor showers, free-standing tubs, a living room, wet bar, and a dining table.

Sandy shades and aquamarine accents, which seemed to be the resort’s signature colours, lent the space a beachy feel.

A large plush sectional faced a television, and a breeze ruffled the white cotton curtains through the sliding patio doors.

“Wow,” Lala said from behind her. “This is gorgeous.”

Chloe wheeled her suitcase into the master bedroom on the right side of the room and collapsed happily on the pillowy bed.

“I’m going to put my clothes away,” Lala said from her bedroom on the other side of the cottage.

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” Chloe called back.

Ten minutes later she was lying on top of her duvet, wrapped up in a fluffy housecoat.

She picked up the Costa Morpho printout Carmen had given her and started to read.

‘Awe-inspiring views’, the first sentence promised as the myriad of nude guests she’d been subjected to in the last hour flitted through her head.

Awe-inspiring indeed , she thought. Maybe not exactly how she would describe it.

Ugh-inspiring would maybe more accurate.

Not that she had a problem with nudists. She supported people’s choice to live their life clothing-free. She just didn’t want to see it. She wasn’t a prude or a ‘keep your clothes on at all times’ type of gal, but she thought the whole notion of a clothing-free resort was rather odd.

Further reading informed her that, contrary to her initial thought, ‘morpho’ didn’t refer to morphine—something she wished she had a week-long supply of right now. Nor did it refer, directly at least, to ‘metamorphosis’. It was actually a type of butterfly that was native to Costa Rica.

Fitting , she mused, because she sort of felt, with this trip, like she was finally stepping out of a cocoon.

Which didn’t mean she would be joining in with the nudists.

No, no. The cocoon she was thinking of wasn’t made of fabric, it was more figurative. It was the one she had wrapped herself up in from the minute Liam had broken her heart.

The last few months she had been doing a hell of a lot better, and she was doing a hell of a lot better at managing her emotions. But the sadness was still there, lingering in the back of her head.

She was hoping that this assignment, her first trip since the breakup, would prove to be the final piece of the ‘getting over Liam’ puzzle. That week, her aim was to transform from a mushy pile of sadness into Chloe 2.0—fierce and fabulous and void of sadness with her wings fluffed for takeoff.

There was a knock at her door and Lala poked her head in. Chloe patted the space beside her on the bed and her friend climbed over her and took a seat.

“So,” Lala said, “a nudist resort.” She paused. “We’re really spending a week at a nudist resort?” She chuckled.

“I didn’t know!” Chloe exclaimed with a giggle. “And besides,” she said with an air of superiority, “according to this printout, it’s a naturist resort. Very upscale. Much classier than a nudist resort.”

“Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe,” Lala said wryly.

“I still can’t believe this is where Dasha sent me,” Chloe said in disbelief. She wasn’t kidding. She was still feeling floored.

“Ah, it will be fine.” Lala shrugged. “Live a little!”

“Four drinks and staying out past midnight is my version of ‘live a little’,” Chloe mused before cringing. “Boobs, butts, and nuts is not my idea of a good time.”

“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it!” Lala smirked. “Besides—with what passes for a bikini nowadays, it shouldn’t be that far off of being at a regular beach.”

Chloe sank back onto the feather pillows and pondered that for a second.

Lala had a point.

“And at least you’ll have an interesting article to write,” Lala said pointedly. “And something to talk to a therapist about in the future.”

Chloe laughed while Lala climbed off the bed.

“Let’s get organized and head to the pool. I need a tan and a margarita,” Lala declared. “Not necessarily in that order.”

Chloe busied herself putting away her suitcase and half an hour later there was a knock on her bedroom door.

“Are you ready?” her friend’s voice came through the light-coloured wood. “The pina coladas are calling my name!”

“I thought you needed margaritas?” Chloe questioned.

There was a momentary pause.

“Margaritas too!” Lala exclaimed. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to vacation drinks.”

Chloe laughed.

“Okay, just let me get dressed.” She opened one of the dresser drawers and grabbed a tropical-patterned swimsuit.

“We are at a nudist resort, Chlo!” Lala said in mock exasperation. “Clothing is not only optional, it’s discouraged.”

Lala had her there. But just because she was at a naturist resort didn’t mean she was going to participate.

Besides, her tropical bikini was one of those itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny suits that qualified as more of a suggestion than actual swimwear.

Surely that had to count for something? Swimsuits really were little more than scrap-cloth coverings.

In fact, she had seen some bikinis in her time that seemed more overtly sexual than a nude body.

Everyone was completely naked underneath their swimsuits but there was something off-putting to her about bare-naked bodies in the pool.

There was something about a bit of fabric that provided a flimsy but firm barrier. A no-go red light.

Not that she thought there would be any untoward behaviour at Costa Morpho. One had to only look at the luxury of their surroundings and refer to the resort’s list of rules. The most important of which was numero uno: no gawking.

“Give me two minutes!” Chloe called to her friend as she pulled on her triangle bikini, and threw her phone, sunscreen, and purse into her beach bag. She pulled on a white linen cover- up that just brushed the tops of her thighs, slid into white foam flip-flops, and stepped into their living room.

“About time!” her friend ribbed her.