Page 11

11

Hex

An earthquake pulls me out of sleep. I toss the blanket over my head and curl into a ball as my entire body shakes violently. When I crack one eye open and glance at my phone’s screen, it shows just past eight-thirty.

I groan, wrapping the blanket tighter as the shaking continues.

Even if the world is ending, I am not getting up. It’s way too early for that.

“Tien, you promised,” an exasperated voice complains, sounding like the greatest injustice in the world has befallen its owner. “If you don’t get up in the next five minutes, we’ll be late for our shift.”

“It’s fine.”

“It is anything but fine. Missing even an hour of work will put us on the radar. We must maintain our roles, or this whole mission is at risk.”

On a scale of one to ten, how much does Aran regret agreeing to take me with him?

I consider that for a few moments as a big yawn forces its way out of me and interrupts the evil giggle I was in the middle of trying to push down.

A hundred probably.

The shaking returns, this time with greater urgency. “Ugh. Let me sleep! What’s the rush?”

He mumbles something about empty promises and having to take care of my lying ass after listening to ten alarms this morning.

Frowning, I emerge from under my fluffy fortress and jab a finger at his chest. “I forgot to tell you that I woke up during the night and changed the roster because I couldn’t fall back asleep and got bored, didn’t I?”

His jaw goes tense and his expression clouds in confusion.

I poke my tongue out and wink at him. “Sorry, I could’ve texted you or left a note, I guess. Oops?”

Shaking his head, he steps back and glares at me. Just when I think he’ll scold me this time for real, he exhales dramatically and runs a hand through his dark hair. Knowing him, he must’ve been up for a while already, but if he hasn’t dressed yet, it means that we weren’t actually running late.

“Good thinking. Meeting up with your friend while on the clock would’ve been strange.”

I’m surprised at his reaction. I was steeling my nerves for an argument, but he took it well even if I messed up communicating the change of plans. “You are not mad?”

The left corner of his mouth twitches, as if he was about to smile but didn’t let it happen. He reaches for my head and rakes his lean fingers through my messy bed hair. “I’ve let worse slide.”

My eyes flutter closed and my body relaxes. God, I love when he plays with my hair like this. Maybe it’s the gentleness with which he does it, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s touching me of his own accord, but it’s just so nice.

A yawn I can’t stifle brings an end to the idyllic moment. He retracts his hand a little abruptly, as if he just now realized what he was doing, and an air of awkwardness settles between us. I’m really bad with that kind of thing, especially when I’m half-asleep, so I slip back under the blanket.

“With that out of the way, let me sleep a bit more. Okay, thanks.”

A heartbeat later, I’m no longer a human burrito as the blanket is dragged off me. “Even if we aren’t working today, you are still getting up, Tien,” he states, drawing out my name in such a way it makes him sound like the evil guy in a movie. But it’s also sexy. “We’ll go through your plan and exactly what it entails. And you are making me that coffee you promised.”

I gawk at him, wrinkling my nose. Is he serious? I was joking about making him coffee. I’m the worst when it comes to anything food or drinks related, and it should be illegal to let me anywhere near a kitchen. Surely, he knows that.

Or does he have a death wish?

By the time we head to the pool, I’m buzzing with the need to do something. We spent the entire morning strategizing and accounting for every scenario and every little thing that can go wrong, so by the end of it I was practically dying of boredom.

I get it—Aran likes to be prepared for every outcome. It’s in his blood. But he shot down most of my ideas by deeming them insane and didn’t let me play that mobile gacha game I’ve recently gotten into. Contrary to what he said, it doesn’t distract me one bit because of the awesome auto-battle feature. If it wasn’t for it, I probably wouldn’t even play it. Like seriously, who has time to grind for hours every day?

When we arrive at the top deck where the open pool is, it’s brimming with people in swimsuits and masks. It’s a little weird, considering how much flesh is on display, but since this isn’t the super secret part of the ship that I was taken to last night, it’s the new normal.

Aran and I went through what I remembered of the people I saw as he drank his coffee with a frown. He suspects that the Lynxes are a billionaire couple who own an oil empire and who moved to Thailand from Russia. I can’t really weigh in on that, but their rounder eye shape and the lighter tone of their skin did make me wonder which part of the world they originally come from.

Then I forgot about asking them, because I had to thwart Mrs. Lynx’s attempts to get me drunk on expensive wine.

I sneakily glance at my companion as we look for vacant sun-tanning chairs to put our towels. His eyebrows are slanted down and his lips are pressed in a hard line, which makes him look way too annoyed for a person who’s got a day off.

“Hey. Smile a bit, will you? We are going to the pool, not a funeral.” I nudge him with my elbow and slide my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose so I can meet his impending scowl head on.

He doesn’t disappoint, but to his credit, once he’s let me know exactly how he feels about what I just said, he tones down the murderous glare a notch. I take the opportunity as his eyes scope the busy deck to enjoy the lovely job that I did of picking his clothes for today.

The only reason he let me be in charge is because you can’t exactly mess up pool attire. A pair of swim shorts and a shirt is all you need. Plus, we didn’t exactly bring a lot of stuff with us, so the options were kind of limited between three shirts and four pairs of shorts each that go well together, no matter the combination. Really, there was little chance I could go wrong here.

The red-white Hawaiian and the black shorts I chose for him mirror my black shirt and red-white bottoms. It’s cute that we match, and it makes us look like a couple who coordinated their outfits. I love every second of it. He’s not wearing his sunglasses, but they are on display, hanging from his shirt’s front pocket. They are the same type that Leo loves to wear, big and round and badass.

We find an available spot with two chairs and a low table near the water slide. I haven’t been on one since I was ten and my dad took me to my first water park. I don’t remember much of it, but it was a lot of fun, especially when Aran and I played with water guns. We were a team, and we completely annihilated the other participants, landing ourselves the big prize—a pair of customizable luxury water guns. I still keep them in a box in my storage room.

A waitress in a flowery top and bikini walks over to us from the bar once we’ve settled, smiling like she’s won the lottery.

“Hi there, gentlemen. I haven’t seen you around. Are you enjoying yourselves?” she asks, eye-fucking Aran right in front of me.

Hold your horses, lady. This man is taken. By me.

“We are regulars. Maybe you just missed us yesterday,” I say, arching an eyebrow.

She squints at me as if trying to place me. I take the opportunity to return the favor, concluding that she must be around my age, maybe a couple years older. Her tawny hair is neatly braided, her eyes are big and green, and her body is, well, that of a woman, so our age is the only thing that we have in common.

“No, I’d have remembered you,” she says with a smile, her attention already locked on Aran.

He looks at her and relaxes into the sun-chair. “So, you know the other regulars then?” he says, unbuttoning his shirt.

The woman’s eyes shimmer with interest, growing a little wider as he pops the last button and exposes his six-pack. Or is it an eight-pack? I always get confused how to count. Regardless of the number, it’s a mouth-watering area of his body and it’s not usually something he shows off.

So why is he? She’s clearly interested, but he’s not shut her down yet.

“I do. It’s part of my job,” the woman says, twirling a lock of her hair.

“And so is serving us and the other guests drinks,” I cut in, crossing my arms and shooting her a dirty look.

I’m not the jealous type. But I’ve also never been this close to claiming what’s mine, so if Miss Flirty Smile thinks she can snatch my Romeo from me, she’s very mistaken.

The taken-aback look on her face brings a proud smirk to mine.

“Ignore my friend’s rudeness. He’s been seasick since yesterday and hasn’t eaten anything,” Aran says with a subtle but stormy frown my way.

What ?

“Oh. That’s very unfortunate.” She smiles at me sympathetically. “If you go to the bar and ask for a Sourie, Ben will whip it up for you. It helps with the nausea.”

I aim at Aran an even bigger glare, but he’s no longer looking at me. His gaze is trained on the woman, and worst of all, it’s grown in intensity so much my stomach fills with nerves. He’s looking at her in the kind of way I wish he looked at me. It’s fucking unfair.

Everything they say from that point on goes over my head. He’s asking her something about the people who come here often, and then about their drinks, her shift times, how many staff work here…

By the way their conversation is going, you’d think he’s enjoying it. I’m convinced he’s doing this on purpose. But why?

I snatch a glass of juice from a waiter who passed by with a tray. Cradling the drink with both hands, I take the straw in my mouth and take a big sip. Prickles cover my skin from how sour the mixture is, but I keep drinking.

Is it because he wanted to teach me a lesson for oversleeping? So that next time I promise to get up on time, I do it? Or is it because I snapped at the woman? But this is a bit going overboard, isn’t it? Besides, how does flirting with someone who’s not me even relate to it?

For the next five minutes, I’m forced to witness their back-and-forth. I refuse to go anywhere else, fearful that the moment I step away, she’ll use her womanly charm and seduce him. If I am not here to save him, he might even fall for such a cheap trick, since, after all, Aran doesn’t exactly have a blooming sex life.

The last time he was with someone was… I nibble the tip of the straw, trying to remember. Two years ago, maybe? It’s not like I keep track of such things… mostly. But I know my dream man in and out. Which is why this is weird. He’s not the kind of person to do this, especially since he knows I only have eyes for him.

So, why is he?

I glare at the two lovebirds, planning out my next move. This is on me—I should’ve been more assertive. I’ve let things be for the most part, not pressuring him as much as I should, so maybe he’s decided to move on now that an opportunity to do so has made itself conveniently available.

Shit, could this really be it? Was this morning the last straw? He wasn’t particularly happy that I went with the Lynxes last night, and he was weird afterwards, too. Things got a bit heated in a way they haven’t before, and even though he didn’t kiss me like I was sure he would, it felt like something changed then. So, maybe having to wake me up in the morning and drink my poisonous coffee put the nail in the coffin after the almost slip-up.

Suddenly, I’m buzzing and not in a good way. I need to do something to regain control of this situation before the Evil Witch enraptures him fully. But what could I even do? He’s completely engrossed as the two of them laugh at something she said like I don’t even exist. They are so into it that if I left now, he probably wouldn’t even notice.

Grr. I hate this. But I am at a loss, too. It feels like it’s game over for me and I don’t even know how it happened.

Agitation clamps on my chest, making it difficult to think and come up with a plan. My man is possibly slipping between my fingers and I don’t know how to stop it. It’s a defeat, and I have no choice but to accept it.

Until I don’t.

A last ray of hope shines upon me a heartbeat later as Not Aran sits on the chair next to me and plucks the glass out of my clammy hands.

“Could I get you a refill, maybe? I’m pretty sure chewing on the straw won’t make juice appear magically in your glass,” he says in his rich voice, chuckling when all I do is gape with an open mouth at him.

“Ah, don’t tell me you forgot about our little date?”

“ Date ?” I hear Aran grate behind me, feeling every letter stab me in the back.

But this could work. In fact, I think it’s exactly what I need right now to win my man back over. A little jealousy goes a long way when you want to make someone realize what a catch you really are.

“Of course I didn’t forget! Both my friend and I were really looking forward to it.” I hook a finger over my shoulder. “That’s Aran. And, oh, I guess I didn’t introduce myself.” I offer my savior my hand. “I’m Hex.”

“It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Hex. I’m Mong.” He offers his hand to Aran, but I shoot up, grab it with mine and point at the water slide.

“What do you say we go try that? My friend is a little busy, so he can’t come with me.”

“The water slide?” He eyes the structure, smiling as his gaze bounces between it and Aran. “Sure, why not? It’s been ages since I went on one.”

“It’s decided then.” I turn to Aran then, my heart soaring. He’s glaring murder at Mong.

I feel a little bad about the guy—he seems like a nice enough person—but I need to teach Aran a lesson. If he can flirt with others and ignore me, then so can I.