Page 3 of Hawaii Can Suck It

“There you go again, being all brave and shit.” Petra smirks through the screen, her red lipstick impeccable as she leans back in her office chair. “You should’ve quit after that skydiving proposal video. Gone out on a literal high note.”

“She’s right,” Katie adds. The scenic vineyards of Tuscany behind her are a postcard come to life. “If I’ve learning anything on my spontaneous trip to Italy, it’s that there is no time like the present to pursue what you want.”

“Buckle up, here it comes.” Petra rolls her heavily lined eyes. “Kidding. I usually ignore Katie’s cheerleading, but she’s right. You gotta chase those documentary dreams. Face it, you’re now the reckless friend while I’m stuck here optimizing synergy or whatever corporate BS I’m supposed to care about.”

“I know, I know,” I say, adjusting my grip. “Soon. I promise.”

The lie sits heavy in my chest next to the two-weeks’-notice email I sent Reece’s manager, Gordon Thorne, this morning. It’s probably burning a hole through his perfectly gelled mid-life hair right now. But I can’t tell them. Not yet. Not when my big dreams feel about as stable as my current position on this bedazzled pillar of doom.

My stomach churns as I think about what I’m planning: A documentary YouTube channel. Something real. Something important. Not anotherI Survived 24 Hours Living Like a Hamstervideo.

Ugh. I can still smell the cedar wood shavings from that shoot.

The dream’s been lurking in my Notes app for months. Story ideas. Shot lists. Production contacts. Everything I need except the one thing that matters—courage.

When I was in college, I won an award for a short film I did on after-school meals and underprivileged children. It was in my hometown of New York City, and my sister Aria snuck me into the kitchen where she volunteered. I’ll never forget the way those kids’ faces lit up at their first hot meal of the day—it was pure, unfiltered joy. Not influencer weddings or rich people pretending to be in love for brand deals—real moments, genuine lives, and actual impact. Those are the stories I want to tell.

But success on YouTube isn’t simply talent and good ideas. It’s algorithms and analytics and convincing the internet that your content has more value than videos of cats knocking things off tables. Which, let’s be honest, is a tough sell.

And, I’d never say this out loud, but I’m not exactly comfortable in front of the camera.

This is why I need Reece. A single mention from him—a mere thirty seconds of that stupidly gorgeous face telling his followers to check out my channel—and boom. Instant audience.

But asking Reece for favors? Might as well ask a grizzly bear to share his salmon.

While he’s hibernating.

After you’ve just woken him up.

Still, a couple weeks of honeymooning in Hawaii has to soften him up, right? Nothing says “help a girl out” like mai tais and newlywed coital bliss. Assuming he doesn’t murder me when he finds out I’m quitting.

Petra’s voice is a whip snapping through my thoughts. “Cam! Are you frozen? This is what I get for being so poor I had to switch to Budget Wireless.”

“Yeah, no, sorry.”

I blink, the ache in my thighs dragging me back to reality. My legs are trembling under the strain of this ridiculous position.

“We need details,” Katie pleads. “Tell us about the wedding. The honeymoon.”

“Hard pass,” I groan. “Let’s talk about you and the Italian Stallion tour guide. Your thirst traps are killing me but notgivingenough. Spill it.”

“Same,” Petra chimes in. “My Instagram feed needs more spicy pics of you two.”

Katie’s cheeks flame red. “It’s not what you think. Matteo’s my tour guide. He’s just… helping me make Jared jealous. You know, so I can win him back.”

My heart crumples like a discarded storyboard. It hurts to see my friend in denial. Katie’s fiancé just dumped her, but is she moving on? Not a chance. Instead of having revenge sex with hot Italian guys, she’s trying to get back together. After bailing on their engagement, Jared is forever on my shit list.

“I’d be climbing that Italian eggplant,” I say. “Sorry, ya girl has been in a major sex drought. The most action I’ve seen lately is my camera’s ‘low battery’ vibration.”

“PETRA!” a man’s voice booms off-screen. “I need that TPS report on the Johson account, and I need it now.”

She blinks like she’s counting to ten. “It’s coming, jeez! Keep your shirt on, bro!” Petra promptly dives under her desk and whispers like the walls are bugged and she knows too much. “Speaking of droughts, what’s your hottie boss wearing for the wedding? A tux jacket minus the shirt? Maybe a bow tie and board shorts? Can we talk about his lickable abs?”

I’d ask Petra how her new job’s going, but she’s hiding under the desk, so… I think that answers that. Working at her brother’s company was meant to be a fresh start, a chance to show her family she’s not a screw-up. Her pile of problems goes beyond her massive crush on co-CEO Bryce Sterling(AKA her brother’s billionaire best friend), there’s also the nonstop tension with her big bro. Yeah, her whole adulting comeback might be circling the drain.

I groan. “My prickwad douchecanoe boss can wear a banana hammock around his schlong. All I care about is surviving this day, flying to Hawaii, and getting my lady bits some much-needed attention on my workcation.”

Katie’s eyes go wide. “Um, aren’t you filming your boss at a couples-only honeymoon resort? How are you getting laid?”

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