Page 7 of A Not-So Holiday Paradise

She nods, looking satisfied. “I thought so.” Then she’s off, trailing after Wes, her braid falling apart where it hangs down her back.

I take a deep breath, letting the ocean air fill my lungs. That briny smell is probably part of my cellular composition by now—salt crystals in my veins, sand in the nooks and crannies of my internal organs. I don’t mind. I let the air out again, a slow, controlled exhale.

One day.I can be open and social for one day. I love these people like my own flesh and blood. So for them, I’ll make this the best day I can.

Just no more monkeys.

Three

Molly

In warm,tropical waters like those off of Brazil, the West Indies, and the southeastern coast of the United States, there lives a fish called the longspine squirrelfish—Holocentrus rufus.H. rufus, or Rufus, as I will now call him, is a funny-looking little guy. This is mainly due to his eyes; he has these big, dark, buggy eyes that look unnaturally large on his little fishy body.

All things told, Rufus appears fairly innocuous—a silvery-orange, goldish-striped body with a pronounced dorsal fin and a long third spine on the anal fin. Despite his looks, however, Rufus is actually a poison-secreting, meat-eating fish that hunts mainly at night.

And it’s this poison-secreting, meat-eating longspine squirrelfish that first popped into my mind when I held my hand out to Beckett; when he just stared at it, frozen, wide-eyed. I think I first noticed his reaction—suspicious, like I was trying to poison him with my handshake—which then led me to think of which poisonous fish I might be, which led me to Rufus, due to our similar reddish-orangish coloring.

Yes. If I had to be any poisonous fish,H. rufuswould be a top contender.

As it stands, however, I amnota fish—poisonous or otherwise. Which means I have to wonder why Beckett’s reaction to me was so strange.

Myreaction tohimshould win awards. The man is gorgeous. Deep brown eyes with absurdly long lashes; a stubborn chin and square jaw; a lean, muscular build encased in blue swim shorts and a white linen button-down. Despite his appearance, though, I did not drool. I did not stutter. I was cool and calm and collected, a pinnacle of chill, and for the rest of my life I will hold this up as one of my main achievements. You got your PhD in rocket science? That’s all well and good, butImanaged not to trip over my own feet in front of my unrequited love. So who’s really winning here?

Trick question: we’re both winners!

“Molly,” Wes says from next to me, pulling me out of my head.

I look over at him, my feet sinking into the sand as I walk. “Huh?”

“You’re talking to yourself.”

“Oh.” I blink and try to think back, but I don’t remember. “Am I?”

He nods, putting one hand on my elbow to steady me as I trip over the beachy terrain. “You said, ‘We’re both winners!’”

“That’s embarrassing,” I say with a sigh. “But…” I trail off, thinking. Then I nod decisively. “I stand by it. We’re both winners, Wes. And don’t you forget it.”

He grins, and I laugh. It’s a giddy sound, but I’m just so excited to be here. Here on this island, here with Beckett—all of it, even if something about Beckett’s behavior is bugging me.

“Let’s wait for them,” Wes says when we’ve almost reached the line where sand turns into rock-studded soil. He stops in place, turning around, and I follow suit.

We aren’t the only ones on this beach; there’s another guy wandering around a second boat, loading things in, securing them, and whistling loudly the whole time. I name him Whistling Wally in my head. He stops Beckett as he passes.

“You gonna be long here?” he says to Beckett, scratching the top of his head.

Beckett shakes his head and gestures to my parents. “Just showing them around for a bit. We’ll head back later this afternoon.”

Whistling Wally nods. “All right. I’m here until about two, and then I’m gone. If you need me, find me before then.”

Beckett just gives him a jerk of his head that I think is supposed to be a nod; then he resumes his path with my parents by his side.

I could take this time to clear the sand out of my sandals, but there’s absolutely no point; it will accumulate again in two minutes flat. So I wait instead, watching as Beckett and my parents make their way toward us. Beckett is holding onto my mom’s elbow the same way my brother was holding onto mine, helping her stay upright in the sand. Every few steps his eyes dart up to where I’m standing with Wes, but I notice they never linger; in fact, they jump over me altogether, like I’m not even here.

Like instead of a poisonous fish, I’m an invisible fish.

I pull back the sinking in my heart, burying that disappointed feeling deep, deep down where no one will ever look for it. Today is not about me; not really. Did I want to make a good impression on Beckett? Yeah, of course. Ireallywanted that. But just as badly I want to make sure he’s doing well—that he’s healthy and happy. He doesn’t have to fall in love with me. He just needs to be okay.

That will have to be enough for me.

---