Page 94 of Hawaii Can Suck It

DING!

“Now, let’s take this connection to the next level.” Kai holds up a book with a shirtless photo of himself on the cover. “Each of you will receive an autographed edition of my new book, the ‘Kama Kai Sutra.’ Consider it your passport to heightened levels of pleasure and—”

The Kama what now?

I scan the room, and—oh, fuck me—everyone here is paired up. Couples. All of them locked on to each other with that glazed “morning sex” expression. Linked fingers. Gentle thigh touches. This isn’t meditation—this “mindfulness” is thinly disguised foreplay.

I have to leave right n—

DING!

“I call this breathing exercise thePanting Passion. Place your palm on your partner’s chest and channel the energy flowing between you. Connect your breath.”

Kai grabs my hand and places it on his greasy pecs. Damn! This man is made of granite. Okay. Deep breaths.This isn’t awful. Just two dudes, being bros, platonically vibing on each other’s life force or whatever the hell this is.

I shut my eyes to focus, but Kai’s infuriatingly powerful heartbeat reminds me of his giant dick drum luau routine.

Ugh!This whole connection exercise is bullshit.

Trusting someone is like holding nitroglycerin—handle with extreme caution because one wrong move and everything explodes. I’ve got the emotional scars to prove it. The walls I’ve built are high for a reason—they’re necessary, the difference between surviving and being gutted by someone else’s greed.

Let’s say for a minute that Cam could forgive me—could I trust her?

How do I know she’s not Astrid 2.0? Another pretty face using me as her personal ladder to fame? My platform, my influence, my hard-earned brand is all people ever want. Why would she be any different?

That’s not who Camila is.You know it. And that’s what’s scaring you shitless.

DING!

“This next pose, known asClasped in Climax, is powerfully intimate and the most sacred of them all. Wrap your legs around your partner, rest your forehead against theirs, and allow your breaths to synchronize. Feel the beat of their core merging with your own.”

All around me, people are entwining themselves around each other as if they’re auditioning for Cirque du So-Laid. It’s a goddamn synchronized sex wave.

Kai scoots his pelvis closer, his tree trunk legs widening open. “Shall we merge our sacred energies, my virile friend?” Kai purrs.

“Jesus—NO.” I launch up, my body moving instinctively. “Sorry! Great class! Really… enlightening! Keep up the… orgy breathing exercises!”

A worker shoves Kai’s book at me as I sprint for the door, taking out a potted plant in my escape.

“Your complimentary signed copy ofThe Kama Kai Sutra,“ she beams.

I take it and run.Where am I going? No idea.

There’s no way I can go back to face Cam. Avoidance is clearly the only adult response here. Totally fine. I’ll just… never see her again. Live in this robe. Hide in the meditation room in-between sex classes until my flight home. Problem solved.

Now if I could only mute the relentless soundtrack of her moans in my head.

***

I’vesuccessfullydodgedCamall day.

It’s been a delicate balance of strategic maneuvers and tactical avoidance. I know I’m a spineless, avoidant, emotionally stunted scaredy-cat. At this point I’d rather run into actual gunfire than face her, because she’s gotta be pissed, and rightfully so.

The bonfire flames flicker and dance in front of me, each amber fleck matching the acid churning in my gut. I’m sweating balls, and not due to the fire. It’s because I’m completely screwed and I know it.

My eyes sweep over the growing crowd, my heart hammering against my ribs. No sign of her. Both a blessing and a curse, all rolled into one.

Behind me, dozens of white tents line the beach in perfect Instagram-worthy rows, their canvas walls rippling in the breeze. Each one is equipped with—I shit you not—massage oils, LED mood lighting, and what the info pamphlet calls “a passion enhancement kit.” It’s like someone gave Kai an unlimited budget and said,Make camping sensual.

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