Page 84 of Mexico Can Choke On It
Everything tilts sideways. The ocean starts spinning.
He’s single?!
Bryce Sterling is fucking SINGLE!
Which means yesterday in the jungle when he kissed me like I was oxygen—he wasn’t cheating. He wasn’t some bored billionaire treating me like his dirty little secret while his girlfriend was off manifesting their wedding.
That was him. Kissing me. For real?
Holy shit holy shit HOLY SHIT!
“Wildcat? You okay? You look as if you’re going to pass out.”
Act normal, Petra. Do not start squealing like a teenage girl. Play it cool—no one needs to know your ovaries just high-fived because your dream guy is officially up for grabs.
I blink rapidly, trying to reboot my brain. “Yeah. Fine. Um… surprised is all. They seemed pretty serious.”
“He’s dealing with the fallout. So I’m telling you—go easy on him. Bryce is family, andfamilysticks together, especially when personal shit hits the fan.”
“All right, I won’t give him a hard time,” I manage to croak out.
But in my head?
It’s chaos.
Screaming chaos.
He’s single.
He’s single.
HE’S SINGLE!!!
Breathe, you maniac. You’re spiraling harder than a washing machine with a brick in it. He kissed you because of heatstroke. Not because he like, WANTS you, wants you.
Vagina:But what if he’s secretly harboring feelings?
Me:Shh. You just liked his glorious cock tap dancing against your clit.
Vagina:It was sensational. Let’s do it again!
Me:Shut your horny hole! I need to think.
This isn’t real. This is heatstroke and hormones. My vagina’s writing fan fiction about a guy I’ve wanted for a decade.Facts, not fantasies—that’s what matters here.
And then Bryce appears on deck.
Oh. My. Fuck. He’s actually wearing it.
Our deal from the limo. If I had to dress like a proper socialite, he had to dress like a normal person on vacation. I never thought he’d really do it. I figured he’d find some loophole or show up in a ten-thousand-dollar “casual” linen suit.
But there he is, sporting the fashion hate crime I forced Sebastian into styling.
Imagine a piña colada threw up on a Bass Pro Shop then got lost on its way to a Jimmy Buffett restaurant.
Banana-yellow board shorts covered in tiny hot-pink flamingos doing yoga poses and a salmon Hawaiian shirt loud enough to guide ships to shore. He’s also wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat with a tropical print band. And, I can’t believe it… neon orange Crocs.
Gavin chokes on his cucumber water. “Jesus Christ. Told you he’s havinga breakdown.”
