CHAPTER 4

“Lavender Haze” – Taylor Swift

TIME MOVES AGONIZINGLY SLOWLY WHEN you’re anticipating something.

After Luca left last night and my mind was no longer distracted, the anxiousness came flooding back. So much so that the past 12 hours have felt more like 48 hours. I bet if I wasn’t thinking this much about the variety of different outcomes that could result throughout the evening, we’d probably be at the club by now.

So I’ve decided to focus on the things I can control instead: curling my hair with enough hairspray that’ll shield my waves from the humidity and drawing a sharp cat eye that’s somehow even on both eyes. Despite these distractions, the potential scenarios keep returning while I struggle to decide what to wear tonight.

My red cocktail dress is by far my favorite item that I packed for this trip, but it’s also probably the shortest dress I’ve ever tried on, and definitely shorter than what I’m used to. Hoping I’ll feel more confident to wear it later on, I decide on a violet midi dress for now.

I look for my beige heels when my phone screen lights up with a new message from Enrique:

Enrique: Hey, you’re going to hate me, but I can’t make it for dinner. One of the lobby managers had to leave early so until the next shift, I can’t leave

The wide smile glued to my face before reading the actual message vanishes in an instant.

I do what any girl who’s completely crushed by a guy’s text message to her does. Reply like I’m not hurt when I am hurt . Very much so.

Jasmine: No worries. Thank you for letting me know

Enrique: I’ll make it up to you, promise

It’s hard for me to remind myself that this is his job. One that he clearly takes seriously or at least has to. And it’s not fair for me to hold that against him especially since I’m the one who showed up here on such short notice. Rejection still sucks even when it’s explainable.

I try to show some of my discontent without scaring him off completely:

Jasmine: We’ll see about that

Enrique: Shit. I’m sorry. We can still go to the club tonight when I get off work?

Wait, so he doesn’t mind cancelling dinner plans but still wants to go to a club? I also still want to go, so despite my growing frustration, I reply:

Jasmine: Sure

Enrique: Great. I’ll see you in the lobby at 11:30

Killing time until we meet is even harder than before he texted me, when I still manage to arrive at the lobby a quarter early. Feeling a bit confused if I’m getting mixed signals here, my spiraling questions are enough to distract me from our conversation. I gaze off into the distance from the balcony, unsure of how the rest of the evening is going to turn out.

Will Enrique try to kiss me? Will he try to do more? Will my dance moves be so awful that he’ll immediately pick up on the fact that I’ve never grinded before?

Trying to figure out which of these scenarios would bring me the most anxiety, I quickly realize that if something is going to involve any physical contact, then chances are I’m going to panic about it.

Before my inner dialogue can continue, I hear a familiar voice.

“Rethinking coming here?”

Ugh. It’s Luca. Why is he here? This just keeps getting worse.

I briefly glance over at him then turn back toward the balcony, when I catch a glimpse of the ocean view that’s undetectable during nightfall even through the transparent glass windows. Trying to focus on the water with my blank expression, I finally reply, “Rethinking all my life choices actually.”

Luca sighs. “God, you’re so dramatic.”

I turn toward him again, now with a glare. “I’m not in the mood.” Then I notice how dressed up he is. He looks good .

Before I have a chance to ask Luca why he’s here, Enrique arrives. “Hey, I’m sorry again for earlier,” he says with a kiss to my cheek. I give him a friendly smile, trying not to look as hurt as I still feel.

When Luca walks with us out of the resort, I realize he’s joining us.

Enrique never mentioned that .

As my mind starts to wander, Luca and my eyes accidentally meet. I notice how his brows have softened up, a slightly more empathetic expression written on his face, before we both quickly look away. He must’ve picked up on the tension between me and Enrique. This is confirmed when he tells a story from work on our Uber ride there, breaking what otherwise would’ve likely been an awkward silence.

_________

The club is packed when we arrive. The only other time I remember being in the same room as this many people was during the few college parties that I went to. Except those were years ago, and this feels way more overwhelming given how I’m currently standing beside two annoyingly handsome men.

Guessing that the group sitting at a booth in the corner is waving to Enrique and Luca rather than at me, it looks like Enrique invited his entire friend group tonight. My disappointment is distracted by the added nerves at the realization that I don’t know a single person here other than these two, who I also barely know. Being an extrovert clearly doesn’t make you exempt from social anxiety. It follows us all .

The only thing that makes me forget about my anxiety right now is my insecurity.

For every guy at our table, there’s two girls. It’s hard enough trying to figure out what I’m going to say, but now I’m surrounded by women that could be supermodels. And they look a little too excited to see us. I mean them .

You’d think that Luca and Enrique got ready together by the way they’re both wearing dark jeans and button downs that are different shades of cloudy blue. Assuming that Enrique would be the life of the party, everyone seems just as pleased to see Luca. Which is beyond me. Dare I say he even looks like he’s charming the women that are swarming him?

After introducing me to our table, Enrique leaves to bring us drinks, when one of the girls that’s been staring at him ever since we got here immediately gets up and follows him to the bar. Am I thinking logically at how she’s probably just offering her help given that he won’t be able to carry all the drinks by himself? No . I’m just thinking how he has another admirer. It was careless on my part for also not considering how many people would be interested in him.

To avoid ruining my self-esteem even further, I look over at Luca who’s now talking to two girls who are both wearing risqué outfits that I wish I had the confidence to pull off. After one of the girls walks away, the other moves closer to him, now touching his shoulder as she continues to do most of the talking.

When she finally leaves, I walk up to him and motion toward the girl Enrique’s still standing next to. “Who’s she?”

Luca’s brows crease as he redirects his attention to the bar. “Who? You’re pointing to like five people.”

I extend my hand, trying to gesture more accurately. “Her. The one who can’t stop talking to Enrique.”

“That’s Clara. His ex-wife.”

I glare at him. “That’s not funny.”

“I thought it was,” he says, looking impressed with himself. “They’ve been friends since university.”

“Have they hooked up?” I ask, not buying the whole “friend” thing.

“I’m not going to talk about my friend’s dating life with you,” Luca replies as he narrows his eyes at me before he nods his head toward Enrique. “Why don’t you just ask him yourself?”

“I don’t want him to think that I care,” I say.

“Because it’s obvious that you don’t,” he says, clearly seeing past my words as I continue to frustratingly watch them mingle.

Then the same girl who was focused on Luca walks over again, cutting our conversation short.

At least Enrique’s back now. “Cheers,” he says with a grin while handing me a shot glass.

I’ve always rejected shots or any alcohol for that matter at clubs. It’s a little bit of paranoia, but it’s more so the taste of alcohol. It’s never been my cup of tea. Another thing to add to the ongoing feelings of isolation in my twenties so far.

Even though I’m old enough to not be as easily influenced by peer pressure, I surprise myself and say, “Cheers,” before I drink the shot, something about this setting making me think less than I normally would. Hoping that it’ll also kill some of my nerves.

“Want to see me make a complete fool of myself while I dance? I’m terrible at it,” Enrique says, sensing that he’s trying to break the ice from earlier.

“I doubt that. Since you’re cute, I’m sure someone will still find it endearing.” One shot is apparently enough for me to blurt said words.

Enrique smirks. “You think I’m cute?”

“You think I’d be here if I didn’t?” I confess.

“I’m happy you’re here.” He keeps saying that but has yet to prove it. “So that now we can dance together.”

Okay. That’s good enough for me. For now .

I can feel Clara’s eyes piercing through me as Enrique leads us toward the dance floor. I can’t say that I blame her though. I’d look far worse if the guy that I’m infatuated with is about to dance with someone else. Especially if said guy looks anything like Enrique. A fraction of me wants to let them dance together instead since I’m so nervous.

From the loud music to the almost undetectable space between other club goers, it’s not the most ideal place to communicate with words, and unfortunately for me, this is my kryptonite. Especially when traveling to uncharted waters. Will we dance? Or does he just expect us to grind? After all, I’m the idiot that told him she loves to grind to real music . This is why I have no business flirting.

Starting with casual dancing, Enrique then switches to moves that are intentionally done to elicit laughter from me. And it works.

He moves in a little closer, and I try to do the same with my noticeably faster heart rate. My reaction to the sweat dripping down his warm skin through his slightly unbuttoned shirt must be affecting my body language when Enrique gently takes my hand before twirling me around so that now my back is pressed against his broad chest. Okay, so we’re doing this then. Don’t panic.

He refrains from moving against me though. It’s nice that he’s giving me the control, but I also wish he would initiate first since I don’t even know where to fucking start. Completely winging it, I lean a little forward while pushing up against him slightly and then begin moving slowly from side to side. Unsure if I’m doing anything correctly, I must be doing something right when Enrique’s firm hands grip onto the curve of my hipbone from behind. Heat immediately fills my stomach, only continuing to build at the reminder of the placement of his hand on my body.

It occurs to me how I quite literally just threw myself at a situation full force like ripping off a band-aid. And while it’s a little thrilling, I’m also freaking the fuck out .

The shot must have helped though since the longer we’re moving, the less nervous I’m feeling. As the music starts getting louder, my timid movements are matched by his. Growing just a tiny more confident, I pick up the pace slightly, and he follows. The friction between us continues to heighten when I feel a vibration near my ear. My lips slightly part from the sensation that tickles down my neck, leading me to tilt up at him, still enamored by his height. Enrique’s smirk confirms that I didn’t do a terrible job.

“You’re a really good dancer,” he tells me through flushed cheeks.

The warmth in my face only increases as I reply, “That’s because this is real music .” And then immediately cringe on the inside at my words.

His dimples makes up for his laugh that I cannot hear.

After we leave the dance floor, we join Luca and the rest of their group at what appears to be a lounge area that’s part of the club. Feeling more comfortable knowing that we’re going to be in a setting where we can easily talk again, I’m also relieved that the part I was most anxious about has already passed.

Still on an adrenaline high, I smile in my own daze while taking my seat, before Clara’s voice brings me back to reality again. “Let’s play a game,” she says.

“ Truth or dare ,” one of Enrique’s other friends chimes in.

Clara scoffs. “Seriously? Aren’t we a little old for that?”

“Yeah,” I agree. “That’s just as dumb as never have I ever . ”

Then Clara looks like she has a lightbulb moment. “Actually, that sounds like fun. Let’s play that.”

Whether or not she says this only to spite me is irrelevant when all I’m worried about is how I will approach a game that focuses mainly on sexual experience when I have none of it. A few people at the table look confused by the game, so she explains the rules, “Each person takes turns saying something they haven’t done, and anyone that has done what the person says has to take a drink.”

A guy next to her starts the game. “Never have I ever had a threesome.”

Fuck. Why does everyone have to make everything sexual?

I try to smile, but an emptiness fills me while the group makes a commotion on each other’s answers. Everyone’s eyes fall on me when it’s my turn. No one technically said this has to be sexual, so here goes nothing. “Never have I ever downloaded Spotify Premium ,” I say.

“What?” Clara looks at Enrique in pure disgust, while he looks amused.

Luca spits out his water in laughter as I glare at him, trying to remain collected.

“That’s not how we play the game,” Clara adds unimpressed.

Enrique nudges Luca’s shoulder when it’s his turn, since he doesn’t seem as invested in the game as the rest of them. Luca has a knowing look on his face and then says, “Never have I ever downloaded Paramount Plus .” Asshole. He rubs it in by looking at me, adding, “This is fun.”

Now I want to throw his water in his face. But also, there’s a tiny part of me that feels grateful toward him that I wasn’t the loner who gave a non-sexual answer .

The girl who was entranced by Luca is next. “Never have I ever gone down on someone on a first date.”

And with that, I feel so out of place.

This is exactly the sort of confession that I was dreading to hear before the game even started. Enrique has a drink along with almost half of the table. Luca doesn’t.

It’s hard to fill the void of feeling this singled out when I start hearing a few people around me snicker about the details of their shared sexual experiences.

I want to leave, knowing that it’s most likely only going to get worse.

But I tell myself, maybe I can handle more?

Unfortunately, it’s Clara’s turn now. “Never have I ever fucked on the beach,” she says confidently.

Okay, now I need to leave.

If the rest of the confessions are anything along the veins of these last two, by the end of the game I’ll be a 25-year-old joke.

I decide to go use the restroom instead as a way to escape. That’s over fairly quickly though. Not really wanting to go back just yet, I walk outside before I spot a bar next door and make my way toward it.

_________

I once fantasized about the guy that I like chasing after me after seeing me down. In reality, it either doesn’t happen, or it’s not the person you’d hope would come after you. You can imagine my surprise nonetheless when I spot Luca in my periphery, while sitting alone at the bar. I look up at him through furrowed brows and ask, “How did you know where I am?”

“I traced the glass slipper that you dropped in the corridor,” he replies in the most monotone voice ever .

I roll my eyes.

“It was either the bar or the gas station. I took a wild guess,” he says, and then sits down on the barstool next to me. “Is everything okay?” he asks as if it pains him to state this question.

“Yeah. I just wanted a drink.” I don’t realize how unbelievable this sounds until after saying it considering the club had plenty of alcohol.

This is the perfect opportunity for him to jab. But he doesn’t?

Instead, he states simply, “It’s just a game.”

Life is starting to feel more and more like a game lately. One that I can’t seem to win . For once I let go and actually say what I’m thinking. “Maybe to you and everyone else playing.”

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Luca asks, puzzled.

“No,” I say. “I’m just giving my observation.”

“Your observation sounds pretty passive aggressive to me,” he expresses dryly.

“Forget it.” Arguing with him is pointless. I gesture toward the exit and say, “You don’t need to be here. You can go back to playing your fun game.”

He doesn’t know what I’m going through. None of them do . To not relate to the simplest of things that come so naturally to people your age.

Luca orders a drink before I feel his eyes on me. “I never said I thought it was fun.”

Although that’s surprising to hear, it also explains his lack of interest during the game. I turn toward him and say, “Seems like your friends have quite the experience.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know about that. Half of them are probably lying.”

Even if he’s bending the truth to make me feel better, it still does. I assume that having oral sex on a first date isn’t what the average person relates to, but then again, maybe it is? I wouldn’t have a clue.

Raising my brows, I reveal, “I was a little surprised that you didn’t drink to any of those.” At least Luca and I have one thing in common.

He takes a sip of his drink and then replies, “I don’t like to kiss and tell.”

That’s enough to spark my curiosity. “So have you?”

His brows furrow. “Have I what ?”

“Done any of those things,” I say, too embarrassed to repeat any of the sexual responses.

I sense that he can also tell how uncomfortable I sound. His expression implies that he doesn’t understand why, however. “I don’t think that’s anyone’s business,” he says, “not yours or anyone else’s at the game.”

“I agree, some things should be kept private,” I reply.

“Unless you want to make them public,” Luca clarifies. “It’s just not my style.” His blue eyes somehow continue to glow even more vividly in the dim light. It’s hard to concentrate on his words as he adds, “Your Spotify comment was hysterical though.”

So he thinks I was joking . If he only knew why I left.

“I’m glad someone found it funny,” I reply sarcastically while swinging my left arm, when my drink spills and lands right onto his lap.

Not this shit again.

He jolts at the contact from the cold liquid. Ironically, this is the first time I see Luca smile this wide. He’s probably thinking this girl’s demented . And I mean, he would have a point.

Quickly grabbing a damp napkin, I lean over and start patting on his thighs. I didn’t think this is how I’d be touching a guy’s thighs for the first time, but what makes sense at this point? Absolutely nothing .

Among other things that don’t make sense is how toned his legs feel over barely pressing onto them. I almost don’t even hear him when he says, “I’m pretty sure you’re just making it worse.” I abruptly move my hands away, embarrassed if that made him uncomfortable. He glances up at me as he places a napkin on the stain, while biting back a smile. “Remind me to wear a Hazmat suit the next time I see you.”

“Maybe I should wear one instead,” I suggest as I shift in my seat at the angle he just looked up at me from.

“You’d still find a way to destroy something,” he says, his lips lifting into a cocky grin.

“Fair enough,” I accept defeat. “I’m sorry. Again . Maybe you could send me your laundry bill?”

He puts the napkin onto the table and bluntly replies, “I’m afraid you’d go broke before you left.”

I chuckle nervously. “Another great point.”

“Honestly, it’s just clothes. I’ll wash the liquor off.” He grins knowingly. “At least now we know you’re not inconsiderate. Just horrendously clumsy.”

It’s odd Luca’s not frustrated the way he was when I first spilled drinks on him, now wondering if he was already annoyed at something else that day. I quickly fix my posture when I remember the drink I ordered. “Wait that was just ice water with a mint garnish in it,” I explain, pointing toward my now empty glass.

His brows furrow. “You said you came here to get a drink.”

“Yeah, I did. I ordered a virgin mojito. Just without the lime juice, syrup, and club soda.”

“So you ordered water ?” he questions with a mocking flourish of his hand.

“With a mint garnish,” I add as if that makes any difference.

Either he’s delirious, or I’m hilarious. While the one shot I had earlier was pretty strong, it shouldn’t be enough to cloud my judgement into being this turned on by his laugh. It’s probably just the side effects from grinding with his best friend earlier.

Luca looks at the glass and says knowingly, “I take it you’re not a big drinker?”

“Actually? I think it tastes terrible . When I had my first shot in college, I genuinely thought someone tried to poison me.” He looks confused and amused at the same time, while I try to rationalize my description, “My throat felt like it was on fire. And not in like a good hot Cheetos kind of way.” He smiles at my comparison of liquor to the spicy snack. “I couldn’t believe this is what people liked. And most people’s response to me at the party was, ‘oh we don’t like it for the taste, we just like how it makes us feel,’ and I’m like no thanks, I’m already all over the place as it is. I don’t need alcohol for that.”

He holds back another smile, gesturing at me. “You’re spot on with that last part.”

I glare at him. “ Really ?”

“What? I’m only agreeing with you.” He shrugs. “I understand everything though. It’s definitely an acquired taste. I don’t think anyone who first drank pure vodka said, ‘ wow this is delightful .’”

“True,” I say. “Lately I’m also getting into trying fruitier drinks, but the less alcohol in them the better, personally.”

“I don’t mind those as well. In general I don’t drink often. But there are certain ones that I look forward to having,” he replies. “A virgin mojito is next on my list, though. Preferably one without most of the ingredients.” He points toward my glass facetiously. “ Extra garnish. ”

I feign laughter. “You know Luca? You’re so funny. Please go on.”

His lips curve to the side. “So what made you upset enough to leave such an exciting game?” he shifts back to the topic I so desperately don’t want to talk about.

Even though I know that I’m not going to answer his question with the full truth since that would mean revealing the zero-experience part, I’m happy he asks it so that I have someone to vent to. “Enrique cancelled our dinner plans,” I explain, “said he had to fill in for someone.” I overestimate the magnitude of my story after seeing how underwhelmed Luca looks.

“You didn’t seem too upset when you two were dancing.” He doesn’t say this maliciously, instead more to point out the obvious.

Yet I still flush at the knowledge that he was watching me dance.

“You were watching?” I voice out loud.

“Believe me, I was trying my best not to,” he replies, raising his brows with distaste. “Enrique is really busy, and his parents expect a lot from him.”

I can’t deny that it’s attractive how he defends his friend. Even if it’s to my disadvantage.

“I understand that,” I say. “But he still had enough energy to go to a club.”

Luca replies, “He made these plans weeks ago.”

He did?

I knew Enrique mentioned how he was planning on going tonight from before, but I assumed he meant alone. Now it makes sense why his friends were included if he invited them earlier. At least he could have communicated this with me. My frustration doesn’t disappear after hearing this though. And since I couldn’t exactly express my feelings to Enrique about this earlier, I continue, “I guess I thought he’d be more excited to spend time with me.”

“How do you know he’s not? You just got here,” Luca rationalizes.

My real expectations take over. “He didn’t even ask if I wanted to have dinner later.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “You wanted him to take you on a date in the middle of the night?”

I wish Luca’s answers weren’t so polished. And logical . It’s hard to defend myself, yet I still do. “It’s the thought that counts.”

Instead of commenting on this, he says, “I’m still wondering what made you want to travel this far for a stranger. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do that.”

It’s hard not to notice how this is the second time that Luca points this out to me.

“Well he’s not a complete stranger,” I defend.

“How much time did you spend together outside of class?” he asks sarcastically. It’s obvious that he’s building up to a point. One that I sadly have no answer to.

“Exactly,” he boasts knowingly.

I hate how arrogant his response almost sounds as if I don’t already realize any of this myself. I don’t owe him an explanation as to why I wanted to come here. But that still doesn’t stop me from rationalizing my behavior.

“I believe in fate, so even though we barely know each other, there has to have been a reason why I saw him again after so many years.”

“ Fate ?” He scoffs. “You came here on the premises of fate? Seems logical.”

“I wasn’t finished,” I bite back and notice his posture shift immediately. “I also believe in free will. I’ve continued to wait for something spectacular to happen to me for so many years that never arrived. So I wasn’t going to keep waiting. I decided to put the effort in myself for once. And that’s why I’m here.” It might have not been necessary to make this sound so grand, but it’s getting pretty late, and I’m just saying everything that’s coming to my mind at this point.

“That was moving,” Luca mocks. “Good luck with all of that.”

If he’s trying to come across as a bitter skeptic, he’s doing a fantastic job at it.

Annoyed how similar his response also sounds to my parents’ dismissive comments over the years, I add, “You know you almost fooled me back there into thinking you could actually be charming.”

He raises a brow at me. “So you were also watching me then.”

Instead of entertaining his comment, I say, “I don’t understand how those women looked that happy around you.”

“Because they actually know me . Unlike you with Enrique,” he says with a glare, although I notice a slight trace of sadness appear in his eyes.

So I may have offended him.

He started it first by questioning my motives for being here. It’s bad enough that I have my own doubts. Being thousands of miles away from home, and this stranger’s remarks are feeding into the same apprehension I’ve had in changing anything about my life previously.

“I think it’s time to go,” I declare, frustrated.

He gets up before I do without looking at me. “Way ahead of you.”

________ _

You could hear a pin drop in the Uber back to the resort. Enrique is passed out sandwiched between Luca and me as we both glare out our foggy windows. At least one of us had fun.

It was nice to have someone to talk to for a moment. I just wish it didn’t end like that. Now Luca and I are avoiding eye contact, verbal contact, and anything in between.

Enrique is pretty groggy once we reach the lobby but still manages to give me a kiss on the cheek goodnight. Yet he’s too tired to notice anything unusual between Luca and me and how we’re acting as if we don’t know each other. Goodnights aren’t exchanged between us either. As we walk in opposite sides of the hallway that extend around the main pool.

On my way back to my suite, I’m reminded of the resort’s extravagance. How I was so caught up about tonight that I almost forgot how mesmerizing I find this place to be. The corridors glow from the scattered lights by the pool, while a soft yet noticeable acoustic melody fills the halls with romance. At least it sounds this way to me. This is the kind of song I’d like to be slow dancing to by the beach in the red dress I brought.

I notice a few couples swaying as a man strums his guitar in the moonlight. I want to be one of the couples. So badly . I thought I’d feel closer to getting there now that I’m here.

But it still feels out of reach. Why?

I suppose I am being a little impatient. The way Luca implied. Maybe I should cut Enrique some slack. Besides, I should be impressed at how he takes his work seriously rather than feeding off his family’s wealth. And after all, I’ve only been here a few days. All I need is a nice warm shower to reset.

My happy thoughts are abruptly paused, when I notice Luca take out his keycard in front of the door next to my suite. “There’s no way. ”

He notices me. “What? There are worse things than being on the same floor. We could have been neighbors.”

I walk toward my suite door with a knowing glare, while we maintain eye contact. I pull out my key card and give it a little wave.

He scoffs. “In that case, I look forward to keeping you up all night.”

Why did he say it like that ? And what does he mean by that? More importantly, why did it make my heart skip a beat?

It’s probably just my hormones acting up at this hour. Which also explains my response. “Not if I keep you up first .”

He pauses in his doorway. “That literally makes no sense. Then we’d both be up.”

“Whatever. You know what I meant,” I say.

“Not really. No,” he says.

“Goodnight,” I call as I shut my door behind me.

The shower relaxes me, but not enough to stop wondering what Enrique is thinking.

Tonight was supposed to be our date, which then turned into a club outing with his friends, which then turned into me spending more time with his best friend than I did with him.

Did he even notice that? Did he even care when I left? Could he also be casually dating other people right now? Could Clara be one of them?

And Luca…what was he doing on the other side of this wall?

If I couldn’t sleep before, I definitely can’t now.