Page 115 of Hawaii Can Suck It

What have I been doing, really?Entertainment that evaporates from memory as quickly as the next video can load. Whereas Cam’s capturing real stories about real people facing real challenges. Content that actually fucking matters.

Why would she tie herself to somebody like me?A jackwad who jumps off cliffs for views.

Oh my God, wait! This emptiness I’ve been feeling isn’t burnout. It’s not Gordon’s relentless demands. Hell, it’s not even the grind of day in and day out filming.

It’s the cold, hard fact that I can’t outrun. None of it has ever meant a damn thing.

And watching Cam today—seeing her connect with people, tell their stories with dignity and care… I want that. I want to make things that matter. I want to use my platform for a purpose bigger than myself.

Something in me has shifted, irreversibly. I cannotgo back to creating the same empty content.

But will people believe I genuinely want to help? Will she?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CAM

Me:Hey sis. Serious question. Ever think about letting go of your dream?

Aria:Hell no.

Me:Okay, okay. What about switching it up a bit?

Aria:Not a chance.

Me:But come on, your goal isn’t to cook in a food truck. You want a restaurant, right?

Aria:Exactly. The food truck is a stepping-stone. It’s my way of making the dream happen.

Aria:FYI Abuela won’t stop showing everyone that video of you two sucking face at the waterfall. She’s telling them you’re engaged and has her wedding dress ready for you.

Me:¡Ay, Dios mío! We’re having fun, that’s all.

Aria:Fun, huh? I’ve seen the videos. That looks like more than just fun to me.

Me:I don’t know what it is, alright? I’m rolling with it.

Me:Sorry I haven’t texted more.

Aria:No worries, mija. You’re busy kicking ass. We both are. Love you.

Me:Love you more, chica.

“THIS VIEW IS INCREDIBLE.”

The blue sky overhead is so rich, I swear I can taste it—cool, crisp, like the first sip of cold water after a day in the sun. Sunlight seeps into my skin, warming me from the inside out, while the steady northeast wind teases me with breezy comfort. The humming catamaran cuts effortlessly through the water, leaving a foamy trail in its wake—an easy, rhythmic soundtrack to an afternoon that feels too perfect to be real.

“I agree,” Reece murmurs.

But he’s not focusing on the ocean. He’s staring only at me, his deep-blue eyes giving me the full smolder, as if I’m the only woman on this boat. Hell, the only woman in Hawaii. A delicious thrill dances up my spine as he leans close and presses his lips against mine—gentle, sweet, yet still humming with the echoes of tangled sheets and whispered moans.

When did this shift happen? When did the obnoxious, grumpy, always-critical Reece Dare morph into this attentive guy who gazes at me like I’m the center of his universe?

And why does it make my grateful heart want to burst out of my chest?

“If you think that’s distracting me from snorkeling today, you’re tragically mistaken,” I mumble against his lips.

“I’d never dream of stopping you from seeing fish, Morales. But I reserve the right to provide… incentives for after.”

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