Page 22 of Harper's Holiday Romance
The combination of all-inclusive drinks, live pool volleyball—that made the water look like a misty sweat infused cesspool—and a highly-strung entertainment rep who insisted everyone dance to Abba, was my worst nightmare. I wished I wasn’t such an introvert. My tolerance for noisy social situations had reduced in recent years. It seemed the older I got, the worse it became. The main pool triggered a sensory overload that immediately repressed when I entered the tranquil limestone carved area by the cenote pool.
The natural beauty and charm caused me to stop and admire. A height fluctuating wall circled the clearing. There looked to be no rhyme or reason to the unevenmismatch of chalk covered rocks. Giant tropical trees and vines towered above the walls, which made the space feel enclosed and private.
The clear turquoise water looked inviting. I took my hat off to whoever designed the man-made cenotes, they’d even added limestone stepping stones down into the pool to create a more realistic look. The space only allowed for four sets of sun loungers. The thick grey foam replicated the Bali beds but singular. I made a beeline for the empty bed in the marginally tree-shaded area to my right. I dipped my foot in the pool; it was warm.
Heaven.
I stripped down to my bathing suit, hopping on one leg each time I had to remove the opposite leg from my shorts. The Mexican sun was not about to burn my feet—again.
A couple sat opposite the space I now inhabited. They gathered their belongings almost immediately after I entered. I tried not to take offence.
A small lizard, no bigger than my hand, ran from one rock to the next.
“Hi, Lizzie.” I knelt close enough to see its beady little eyes blink, but not too close in case it somehow managed to jump. I’d never seen a jumping lizard, but I only just discovered that Panda’s did handstands when they peed. I loved animals. I preferred the big kind; I knew where I stood with a dog or a horse. If they had more legs than they did pounds on the weighing scale I was less inclined to interact, but lizards were cute in a scaly small dragon type of way.
I removed my hat and threw it blindly behind me.
“Hey—” A winey female voicemoaned. I spun around.
“Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t realise—”
I felt like someone had dropped me in the middle of a romantic comedy, except the romance and the comedy were nonexistent. It was essentially a horror movie, but with sun and less blood.
This cannot be happening, I screamed internally.
Elevator woman.
When did she even arrive? Did she fall from the sky? Teleport? I was positive there was nobody here when I arrived, but there was a towel. Come to think of it, I recalled seeing an empty cocktail glass. I really ought to find out her name, so I could at least address her correctly the next time she ruined my day.
She smirked annoyingly, like she was in on some joke I wasn’t privy to.
“It’s you,” she said visibly eye rolling me; then she laughed. She bared her teeth, shook her head, and let out a small wheezing noise.
“What’s so funny?” I challenged. My leg sagged as I put my hand to my hip and my posture basically said, I’m going to tell your mum you’ve been naughty. I tried to correct it, but it was too late. I hated that my go to power pose resembled a disgruntled schoolteacher.
“Are you following me?” she jested.
“Excuse me?”
“This hotel is supposed to be big enough for two people to go freely about their day, avoiding one another completely. I checked. It literally says it in several reviews on Tripadvisor, and yet here you are, again.” She dropped her glasses to the end of her nose, and I became uncomfortably aware of how much skin I had on show.
“Why are you Googling how to avoid someone in a hotel?” I regretted asking immediately.
“That’s none of your business.”
She was right. It wasn’t. The question left my lips before my brain could process the inappropriateness, but what a strange thing to research.
“Are you?” she asked.
“Am I?—”
“Following me.”
“Pfftt. Don’t flatter yourself.” I sounded like I could in fact be following her. Mypffttlacked conviction, but how dare she accuse me?
“Hey, look, whatever floats your boat.”
“Why would I stalk the rude girl who broke my bracelet?”
