CHAPTER 6

“Anti-Hero” – Taylor Swift

ANY DOUBTS FROM EARLIER AT the beach went on the back burner when Enrique, to my surprise, asked me out for dinner tonight before we left to go back to the resort. It reassured me exactly why I’m here. And more so, how ready I am to start living out what’s only existed in my imagination thus far.

The date went pretty much how I expected it to go. Enrique being his usual charming self, while I thought about every little thing that I said before the fact.

That still wasn’t enough to stop me from putting my foot in my mouth, when I somehow managed to bring up a dick joke at one of his comments that I also happened to terribly misinterpret.

The awkwardness must be simply from the fact that nothing was on my mind more than the possibility of my first kiss. Not the food, not the restaurant, and dare I even say him .

But now as he’s walking me back to my suite, I can’t focus on anything but him and how his skin’s still glowing from surfing .

We’re currently discussing how we would prepare for our college exams or lack thereof, when Enrique laughs. “Studying for that final was insane. Me criticizing the books, you spending more than half the time trying to convince me why they were important.”

“Did I do that?” I play it coy. “I was too busy daydreaming to notice it.”

“Daydreaming about what?” Enrique asks, the flutter of his lashes somehow making his eyes curve even more.

I decide to just say it. “Of how much I had a crush on you.”

His brows quickly crease. “No you didn’t.” He looks as though he’s genuinely shocked, but also playful enough that I’m unsure if he ever noticed this before. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he then asks, confirming that he did in fact never suspect anything.

“You had a girlfriend, remember ?” I remind him.

“Oh shit. That’s right. I forgot.” He leans in a little, his voice growing softer. “It’s a good thing we ran into each other then.”

“It’s almost like it was meant to be.” I regret that as soon as I finish the sentence. It’s too late to take it back now though. Before he can say anything, I backtrack, “Meant to be as in we got to see each other again, not meant to be as in we’re meant to be. Cause that would be weird of me to say. At least out loud.”

How exactly is that me trying to make a terrible sentence better?

I once thought that in my twenties, these things would feel easier, talking to my crushes would get easier . Instead, being in sheer proximity with guys that I like still makes me feel as if I’m about to sky-dive. My heart suddenly feeling as though it’s ten feet outside of my body, my logic nowhere to be found, and the butterflies in my stomach so strong that I’m not quite sure if I’m just really nauseous.

The exact way I’m feeling right now .

I’m so in my head as my heart continues to nervously jitter in my chest, wondering what’s going through Enrique’s head at the moment.

Then he laughs with wide eyes. “I forgot about your sense of humor.” Great. He thinks I’m a joke. “And how much I like it.” Okay. So he finds it endearing?

I take a deep breath, pretending to zone out abruptly, and then sarcastically poke fun at my own embarrassment, “Oh, you’re still talking to me?”

He laughs again, and I swear he looks at my lips for a second.

Is this the moment? Could it finally be happening?

There’s silence. Not like a typical one that’s boring, empty, or sad. It’s a silence that pounds in my ears in anticipation for something to happen.

Enrique moves in closer, yet I stand still. I nudge myself forward without having any sense of direction. My heartbeat is thudding so loud that I can’t hear my own thoughts.

As he leans in more, I wonder when exactly I should close my eyes.

On that same note: Where do I put my hands? On his shoulders? His neck? Around his back? There’s so many options, and yet all I do is keep them at my sides.

Maybe closing my eyes this quickly wasn’t a smart move when my nose bumps into his. Fuck. This would be the epitome of me telling him I’ve never had my first kiss without telling him that I’ve never had my first kiss.

I open my eyes just to see what I’m doing when his eyes meet mine, and I give him the most awkward grin probably in all of humanity.

But then his hand reaches out before I feel his fingers run through my hair. It’s enough to calm me down a bit, while also making my heart rate immediately spike up. I try to close my eyes but this time after him, to make sure I don’t make a fool of myself. Again.

Then it happens.

I don’t know if it’s my lips shaking this much, but I barely feel anything. So when it’s over, I’m almost thinking to myself, that’s it ?

All those years of anticipation led to this crucial moment, only for it to feel lackluster at best.

It has to be my nerves though. I run my fingers through his hair, wondering how he made this gesture look so appealing, before timidly pressing my lips onto his again.

His arms wrap around my lower back while his lips part open slightly.

Okay, now what do I do?

Do I put my tongue into his mouth? Do I wait for him to put his tongue in my mouth?

Do I just run back to my room?

The first logical step would be to actually open my mouth slightly as well, when I quite literally tell myself, fuck it.

My tongue is gently met with his warm and clearly more skillful one, the awkwardness slowly turning into a more pressing sensation that’s now cascading down my body.

Okay. This is actually nice.

And what do you know? I’m finally living out a daydream.

I feel Enrique’s hands move back up my body before he holds the side of my neck, to which I immediately jolt back.

That’s where this dream ends. For now at least.

His brows crease, but before he tries to say anything, I nervously proclaim, “I just got a phone call.” I really should’ve run back to my room when I had the chance .

The expression on Enrique’s face confirms to me how idiotic I sound. “That’s funny I didn’t hear anything,” he says, bewildered. “Did I do something?”

“No! You were excellent.” His look of concern is only making me feel worse for letting my doubts cause him to doubt himself. “You probably didn’t hear it since it’s on vibrate. I felt it.” Jasmine, stop talking!

“Oh, okay,” he says apprehensively. His manners stop him from questioning me further even though I’m convinced that he doesn’t really believe me.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” I say as an attempt to make sure everything is still normal.

“Tomorrow’s a little busy for me,” Enrique replies, running his fingers through his hair hesitantly. “I have this small shift in the morning.”

I try not to look hurt, despite knowing I’m the one that just made things awkward. “Oh no worries. I understand.”

“We’re going surfing again the following day though if you want to join?” he kindly offers with a half-smile.

“That sounds great. This time I’m ready so be prepared,” I say, grateful that he seems to be ignoring what just happened, hoping my attempt at flirting will salvage the good moments from tonight.

His smile slightly widens but not enough to reveal his dimples like usual. “Looking forward to it. Goodnight.”

It isn’t lost on me when Enrique simply walks away without a hug, kiss on the cheek, or brush to my hand.

I just ruined everything.

Georgia. I need to talk to Georgia. But after calling her twice with no response, I have no idea what I should do .

I know I might be overreacting about tonight. But like anything else, as one thing goes awry, that’s when all the doubts that aren’t even related to the current situation come rushing back to your mind. And that’s exactly what’s happening to me right now. All the mistakes that have shaped my fruitless relationship with romance are resurfacing and making me feel even worse about what just happened. Or didn’t happen. Which is why I need to talk to someone. Now .

But there is no one to talk to, hence why my panic only keeps spiraling.

Even though alcohol would usually be my last drink of choice, it’s the first one that comes to mind as I rush toward the outdoor bar by the main pool.

I slump into a barstool, while rubbing the headache that’s already forming near my forehead. I must be hallucinating when I turn and notice Luca sitting a few seats away from me. “Rough night too?” I ask.

He glances up from his phone and looks surprised to see me. “No. I was just relaxing.” I can tell that he’s already used to me when he puts his phone away. “I’m guessing yours didn’t go too well,” he says, raising a brow.

I take a deep breath. “I just had my date with Enrique.”

“I know,” he says jokingly. “You already told me about it twice on our way back earlier.”

His drink distracts me from his remark. “What’s that?” I ask. “It looks good.”

“It’s a virgin mojito. Just the way you like it.” He’s in a good mood, and I’m clearly not . I think he senses this, when he adds, “It’s Cava Sangria.”

I quickly sit up, my eyes growing with interest. “I like Sangria a lot actually, with more fruit of course.”

“ Of course ,” he repeats knowingly. His smile makes my lips slightly curve upwards even though I’m trying for them not to. “It’s similar to regular Sangria, but instead it has Cava, which is basically a sparkling champagne made from local grapes,” Luca explains. “So no soda is added. But there’s more alcohol in it.”

I think he notices how I’m continuing to glance at his drink without a reply, so he proceeds to order one for me. When it arrives, he says, “I asked for more fruit so it tastes more to your liking.”

“Thanks,” I say, immediately drinking more than half of it at once. A definite first for me.

His eyes widen. “I’m scared to ask you what happened on this date…”

I bury my face into my hands, remembering everything again. Too frustrated with myself, I almost don’t hear Luca’s voice when he says, “Whatever it is, I’m sure it went a lot better than you think.”

I sigh, not really wanting to tell him, but my best friend isn’t exactly available right now. “When we were kissing,” I explain apprehensively, “I pulled away and told him my phone was ringing, actually vibrating, but it wasn’t.”

“You know you should compile all the things you say into a list of the best lines to guarantee winning over someone’s affection,” Luca says. I briefly lift up my face, just to give him a death stare. Luckily he quickly catches on, and adds, “I’m just joking. It’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with what you said.”

“It’s the first time he didn’t kiss my cheeks before he left though,” I argue, knowing it’s much more than that.

“It’s been what ? Three nights? You’re worrying over nothing.”

I shake my head. “No, Luca. I shouldn’t have panicked like that. I’m the one who kissed him again. I just thought— ”

I pause, and he looks like he’s trying to solve a puzzle that’s missing half its pieces. “Thought what?”

“That he was going to try to kiss my neck,” I confess.

Luca squirms slightly in his chair, and I can’t blame him. I do sound pretty insane, especially with no context around my story.

“I don’t know if I should be hearing this,” he replies, looking away.

My brows furrow. “What? No. I wasn’t going to share any details with you.”

“It sounds like you were,” he says, facing toward me again.

“I wasn’t.” I continue with my original point, “What if he thinks I friend zoned him now?”

“Then just talk to him later, and clarify that you weren’t.” He makes it sound too easy. If only it was.

“I can’t,” I reply.

“What do you mean?” he says. “Just like how you told me now, tell him the same.”

“I can’t do that. It would be too embarrassing.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not following,” he says with pursed lips.

The frustration builds in me, my heart continuing to tighten in my chest. Without thought, I blurt out, “I can’t tell him that he’s my first kiss.” Why. Did. I. Just. Tell. Him. That?

Luca tilts his head down slightly. “Like first kiss ever?”

I groan. “Yeah. Ever. Ever. Forever. Ever ,” I mock myself. My face is back into my hands again.

“So you—” he tries to ask.

I interrupt, “Yes to all of it, yes. I just had my first kiss. I’m a virgin. I’ve done absolutely nothing in between. Did I mention that I just turned 25?” I give a deeper exhale.

The puzzled expression on Luca’s face indicates that he’s backtracking and processing our previous conversations. “You weren’t trying to be funny during that game then?” he asks.

“I wish I was,” I admit.

“And you don’t want Enrique to know?”

“He can’t know. It’ll affect how he treats me.”

He raises his shoulders. “Then why are you telling me?”

“I wasn’t going to. Believe me. It just spilled out,” I defend. “I pretty much just had a panic attack on my way over here. My best friend wouldn’t pick up her phone, and I had to talk to someone and I—” My nerves spike now at the thought of Luca discussing the most personal thing to me with Enrique. “Please don’t tell him,” I quickly say, shaking my head.

He confidently reassures, “I won’t. I promise.” There’s something about the way he’s looking at me. So intently. So patiently. That makes me believe him.

“I shouldn’t have come here. What was I thinking?” I continue thinking out loud to my dismay.

Maybe I wasn’t ready for any of this. Maybe I’m not ready to grow up.

This entire day reminds me of how much I used to look forward to my 18th birthday. How it always looked like this grand prize. The shiniest one, waiting out for me in the distance, one I couldn’t wait to reach.

Among the many rules my parents set for me early on, at the top of the list was the no-dating-whatsoever-until-you’re-18 rule. Maybe that wouldn’t have been such a big deal if I was allowed to attend my school dances. Or have a reasonable curfew. Or spend more than a few hours with my friends on weekends. Or have any guy friends .

It’s hard not to bunch all these rules together since I’m convinced that if just one of them hadn’t been there, that things would be much easier for me to navigate.

That’s exactly why my 18 th birthday seemed so important at the time. Believing everything would suddenly change once the highly coveted day finally arrived, left me in pure disappointment when nothing did.

The rules may have been gone . It turns out that just removing rules doesn’t erase years of fear. The unknown is enough to make up for any sense of clarity.

And now, things that should be simple feel frustratingly more complicated than I anticipated.

I also realize that half the bar probably has already heard our entire conversation when Luca gets up from his barstool and moves to the seat next to mine. He looks at me with a gentle expression and says, “Having experience is overrated.”

I scoff. “That’s exactly what someone who has a lot of experience would say.” His lips part open, about to speak, but I can’t stop. I take another large sip of my drink and look right into his surprised eyes for the first time tonight. “You know I’ve never even been drunk?”

The way his forehead is scrunched, it’s clear that he’s a little frightened but also sympathetic as he listens to my rant. “And I’m still not drunk now,” I add. “And it’s not that I feel bad for never experiencing it. It’s the reason behind why it’s never happened.” I push the remainder of the drink away from me, before continuing, “You know how I told you that part of why I don’t like drinking is because I feel my personality doesn’t need it? Well that’s only half-true. I’m terrified of losing control.”

A loud guitar melody fills the air before he has a chance to reply .

Luca then suggests, “Do you want to go talk by the bench outside our rooms?”

I nod before we get out of our seats.

While we walk back, Luca replies to my last comment, “Those are all valid reservations to have, Jasmine.”

“But I think they’re all related,” I say. “I know that has to be a big reason why I haven’t been able to be intimate with anyone. Giving up a sense of control. I haven’t trusted someone like that.”

He nods reassuringly. “That makes perfect sense to me.”

I snort at myself. “What about being this nervous for just a kiss? That doesn’t make much sense to me .”

“I think all of it can feel overwhelming when you’re doing it for the first time,” he argues, “whether that be holding someone’s hand or something that’s way more intimate.”

The mesmerizing sparkle in his eyes is only adding to these conflicting feelings.

I sigh and realize what’s continued to dwell in the back of my mind for so long. “I guess it just confuses me because it’s not that I don’t want to experience it. Especially sex . Sex intrigues me, but it also terrifies me the most, knowing you’re sharing the experience with another person.” Having never directly talked about sex this way before, a shock runs through my system, one where my nerves somehow feel a bit relaxed.

Luca pauses, most likely to gather his thoughts. But the way it appears from my lens is as if he’s searching my eyes so thoughtfully, to find something meaningful to say. It’s probably the sangria talking, but discussing a subject that’s this personal, holding eye contact with him the longest I have so far, doubles the electricity running through me.

I remind myself to blink when he finally says, “I haven’t really thought about it like that. At least not in a while. I know that during my first time, I was nervous out of my mind though. So it’s definitely normal.”

“You were also nervous for your first time?” I ask, surprised at his response.

He smiles, his cheeks almost flushing. “Oh yeah. I was a mess. I feel like most people are.”

The tension in my arms eases up after hearing this. “I wish people talked more about how nerve-racking the idea of sex really is,” I express. “Do you have any advice?”

“Advice?” Luca says, keeping his distracting gaze on me.

“Yeah. On how to approach intimacy. How do you trust someone with something so personal?” I clarify, “I’m not asking what I should do. But like what would you do to help with feeling less nervous about it?”

“I think it would be pretty foolish of me not to point out the obvious first,” he says. “I don’t think it’s exactly the same for men and women always, unfortunately. I’m sure a lot of men feel apprehensive on trusting their partner during intimacy, but I would imagine it’s a much more vulnerable feeling for girls. Having said that, I think guys do a better job at hiding how they feel even when they feel exactly the same as you do. And by that I mean, chances are he’s also in his head about a lot of it.”

“I guess that’s true,” I say, pleased with his detailed response, yet still apprehensive on the whole topic.

He can tell I’m not really convinced as well when he tilts his head. “Are you scared of what he’ll think of you when he sees you naked for the first time?”

Luca’s words are a little direct but exactly what I’m afraid to ask. The forwardness almost helps ease my nerves to continue talking about this. “I don’t want to admit it, but yeah,” I answer shyly.

“I promise you that he’s also nervous of what you’ll think of him when you see him naked,” he reassures.

“I didn’t really think about it that way, but obviously I know that’s true,” I reply.

“Also, having a ton of experience doesn’t replace your insecurities,” he adds. “One person can know exactly what they’re doing but have no confidence, while another can have zero experience and trust their own instinct.”

I hold back my tears, realizing I fall in the category of zero experience and not trusting my own instinct. “What if it just never happens for me?”

We reach our suites, and for some reason neither of us moves to the bench. Instead, Luca just faces toward me, while I almost stumble backwards.

“Jasmine, you know that’s not true. It’s obvious that you care about this and want it to happen. I think if you trust yourself first, it might feel a little less daunting. And I don’t mean trust that you know everything but trust yourself that you’ll figure it out. Because you will .”

Amazed how I haven’t tumbled right into the bushes behind me, I explain, “But what if I’ll never trust someone else enough to be intimate with me? It’s not the emotional commitment and connection that freaks me out, it’s the physical part.”

He takes a deep breath, one that while we’re not standing that close, I still feel a trace of. “Not to make you feel worse, but this won’t be solved just by trusting someone else,” he confides. “People can easily break your trust. That’s why it bothers me when people say that when it’s with the ‘ right person , ’ everything will be solved. It makes it seem as if that person holds all the power, in you feeling that you can trust them. ”

“I don’t know,” I argue, “I think the right person can make you feel way more secure than if it were to be with some random person or worse someone toxic.”

Luca quickly clarifies, “No 100%. I absolutely agree with that. I just think that when you find the ‘right’ person that makes you feel like you can trust them, a big part of it is really you trusting yourself that you’re ready to do something with them. Since you never really know if you can trust anyone. Or least I like to think of it that way.”

“I need to sit on that for a second,” I reply, knowing I’ll have to process all this when I’m not standing a mere few feet from a guy I should not be lusting after. “But I guess like you touched on, we forget how other people feel during a situation. We’re so in our heads that we forget that they’re probably thinking about things the same way.”

Luca sighs. “It’s a pretty fucking vicious cycle when you think about it, honestly. And I mean, counting on yourself is already difficult as it is. It’s such a mindfuck to try to figure out and count on someone else.”

“Did you study philosophy?” I ask, trying to bite back my smile.

He chuckles. “No. Close.” Then adds with a straight face, “Finance.”

I snort. “You must read a lot then?” I say, remembering the novel that we both enjoy, trying to rationalize where in the world his thoughtful responses are coming from.

“Eh. I don’t mind it,” he says, his eyes somehow grinning.

Then I get a real phone call this time. It’s Georgia.

Luca notices right away. “Oh the irony …”

I roll my eyes, when the realization of our conversation hits me. “Thank you for listening to me talk about things I’m sure you didn’t want to discuss on your Saturday night. I usually talk to my best friend Georgia about this stuff, but since she’s not here, I’m sorry it had to be you.”

“Don’t be sorry. This was interesting ,” he replies, a look of intrigue behind his lips as he unlocks his suite. I wonder if he notices how I’m still looking at him, when he pauses and turns around from his doorway. My body jolts like it did earlier, except this time with excitement as he meets my eyes. “And just because you haven’t experienced something yet , doesn’t mean you never will.”

“Goodnight, Luca,” I say with a smile that’s not big enough to let him know how much this conversation just helped me.

He nods before entering his suite.

If Georgia had picked up earlier, this conversation would have never happened, and I wouldn’t have felt this almost release being lifted off my shoulders. Over something I’ve always wanted to talk about.

Discussing most things with either friends or strangers usually comes naturally to me. But sex has always been the exception. Talking to Luca about it though didn’t feel strange. It felt so normal.

And I still have so many questions .

But the night is over, doubting if we will ever bring this up again.

I watch as the starlight reflects from the window in my suite, my cheeks warming up slightly, my lips curving upwards just a touch. The embarrassment I felt before Luca and I spoke felt never-ending, but our exchange was one I wish could have continued without end.

Instead, we only just scratched the surface .