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“No,” he assures me. He tilts his head, watching me. “Are you having fun?”
“I…” I think only a second. “I am.”
His smile is crooked and small, but triumphant just the same. “Good. How about a small spin?”
“A spin?” My brows cinch. What does he mean by spin?
“Yeah, a twirl, like when we began?”
“Oh. That. Ah—”
“Spontaneous Meg,” he whispers as if he were my mantra come to life. And for some reason, I let him be my mantra. I listen even.
“Okay,” I say, then mouth to myself, “I am Spontaneous Meg.”
Kal pulls back, twirling me once beneath his arm. The world, this outdoor party, the tables, chairs, people, and ocean all whip by. I spin—like a six-year-old in a new party dress. I rotate back to face him, and laughter spills out of me.
The champagne?
But then, I only had a couple of sips. Half a glassful at most.
Maybe this isn’t the champagne…
Maybe this is how vacation is supposed to be. Maybe I can be Spontaneous Meg.
He pulls me back in, my chest bumping his. I am more drunk on Kal’s musky cologne and coconut scent than anything else. I’m sure of it.
Another giggle falls out of me, and Kalani Jex, stranger no more, beams down at me. “One more?” I say, and he nods in agreement.
I whirl out, passing the bride and groom—who Alana officially introduced me to just an hour before. I’m ready to whirl back in, loving the breeze on my cheeks, when the reception space drops from chatter and laughter to deathly quiet. The live band falters. The singer has stopped mid-sentence. The bride and groom stand still. I’m not imagining it. It’s so quiet, I am certain I hear a cricket chirping in the night.
“Whoa. Shoot, ah—” Kal says, his eyes fall from my face to my torso.
With our dance on pause, I peer around the room—where all seem to be looking back at us, or more so, me. Why me? I peer down, looking at myself, like everyone else.
A sudden coolness, a breeze that hadn’t been there before, washes over me.
Which makes sense, seeing how my gold-and-cream lavalava no longer drapes over my shoulder and down my back but twists and hangs, slipping off at my waist. The knot has come loose, allowing my top to slide right off my body. My red bikini top is out there, shouting to the world—look at me!
And the world is looking.
I’m showing off this stupid, strapless top to every single reception guest when it was meant for no one at all. I pull in a gasp and yank on the lavalava gathering around my waist. It’s the worst possible move—because now, not only am I sporting my red bikini top at this formal gathering, but my bottoms as well. The lavalava is a simple rag in my hands, no better than a towel. I stand in the middle of this wedding reception, in basically my underwear, because that’s all Autumn’s stupid bathing suit is, bright red undies!
My heart thunders and the people around me seem to spin. It doesn’t matter what kind of Meg I am today—I don’t like this.
“Ha!” Alana yells from across the room, and all eyes dart to her. “Who’s ready for a swim?” She holds up her hands, nodding.
“Oh, yeah!” Leilani calls after a poke in the ribs from her mother’s elbow.
The crowd chuckles at Alana’s outburst, and the chatter and music start up again.
I can’t speak, though. I can’t even breathe.
Kal’s hand finds the bare skin between my shoulder blades. He offers me the end of my lavalava. “Come on,” he says, leading me out of the tent. There are no walls in this dumb place, just a white top over our heads. How’s a girl supposed to hide in here? No one can be invisible in a red bikini.
The lead singer starts a new song with our exit, and even though this place has no walls to hide me, I am suddenly able to breathe.
Kal grabs the opposite end of my lavalava, and in two quick motions, the thing is back around me and he’s tying it at the nape of my neck—a completely new style than before.
