Page 149 of Hawaii Can Suck It

OMG I SHIP THIS SO HARD.

FIND HER KING!!!!!

I’M CRYING THIS IS SO ROMANTIC.

My sister works for Delta, I’ll text her!

Check American terminals first, more red-eyes.

I’M LITERALLY AT LAX RIGHT NOW. I’ll hang here and wait.

Blaze leans in, his face filling most of the screen. “Let’s spice up this long plane ride, bros and bro-ettes!” He holds up a fistful of foil packets. “Who dares me to try these flavored condoms?”

He rips open a silver one with his teeth, pulling out a slippery latex circle. He pops it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Yo. Marshmallow. Like, I could actually snack on these.”

“This is so disturbing,” I mutter. His chaos is somehow comforting in the eye of my emotional storm. And yeah, I end up laughing.

Another rip, another taste.

“This one says fried pickles, but I dunno, dudes.” He licks then immediately makes a face as if he’s swallowed battery acid. “Gross! Not pickles. More like piss. Wait, no! That’s cat piss!

Trust me, he knows the difference. I pulled that prank.

The comments are coming in so fast they’re a stream of screaming capital letters and cry-laughing emojis.

“Oh, hell no. That is straight-up bacon.” He spits it into his hand, shaking his head. “Man, if I wore this and some chick started chewing on my dick, honestly, I wouldn’t blame her.”

As Blaze hijacks the livestream with his increasingly theatrical taste test, my mind’s back on the problem at hand. Finding Cam.

“Iwould’vesaid yes.” Her last words play over and over in my head—like a cruel Spotify playlist I can’t turn off. Would’ve. Past tense. As in, shewouldhave before I accused her of using me, before I let Gordon fire her, before I failed to defend her against Astrid’s bullshit smear campaign.

I pull at the scrunchie on my wrist.

What if I can’t find her at LAX?

What if she’s already on a plane to New York when we land?

What if she sees me coming and deliberately goes the other way?

What if she’s made up her mind that I’m not worth the heartache?

Worse—what if she’s not just visiting New York, but moving there permanently? Panic floods in. I’m gonna be sick. I can’t follow her, not with my employees depending on me and a company in the middle of a major overhaul. I’m so tied to Los Angeles I might as well be chained to the Hollywood sign.

But without her, none of it matters.

I’m so fucking in love with her. There’s a Cam-shaped hole in my chest, and nothing else will ever fill it. Not fame, not money, not success.

She’s it for me. The one.

***

Welandfiveminutesafter her plane does.

For one glorious moment, I think I have a shot. That I can make it to her before she leaves for New York. And then the bitter truth bitch-slaps me in the face.

We are at the wrong fucking terminal.

Private jets don’t land where commercial flights do. Cam is on the opposite side of LAX, probably the busiest, most aggressively chaotic airport in the world.

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