BLAME IT ON THE SUNSHINE

CHAPTER 6 (JONAS)

DECEMBER 18

I'm startled awake by the buzz of my phone against my leg. I hadn't even realized that I'd dozed off.

I shield my eyes from the sun and squint to see the message. It's from an unsaved number, but the plummet of my stomach as I read the text indicates this is from no stranger.

So when am I going to see you again? 😉

Oh boy. I immediately feel nauseous and start to sweat, and it's not from the blazing heat of the Miami sun. Though that probably isn't helping.

I am the biggest dummy alive. The dumbest. The worst.

How am I supposed to respond to that? If I'm honest, and tell Whitney that our little "escapade" the other night was a mistake, then it'll look like I was leading her on. But if I respond, then I mostly definitely will be leading her on. The only thing left to do is to pretend this message doesn't exist, though ghosting her won't make either of us feel any good. It's a lose, lose, lose situation.

I quickly delete the message and swipe a hand across my face, suppressing a groan. Forget Jonas frickin' Marinao and Jonas Aurelio Zubair Mariano. People should start calling me Jonas "the Jerk" Mariano. This has gotta stop. And now. I decide right then that I will get it together. That from now on, I'll use my puny little brain to think before getting carried away. And hopefully, hopefully, that'll stop these grossly awkward situations from happening. I won't hurt others, I won't hurt myself, and everyone will be happy. Who needs to wait until the new year to make a resolution? I'm determined to make this December 18 at 4:38 pm EST resolution stick.

My resolve gradually brings my heart rate back to normal, and I go back to feeling sweaty and nauseous from the heat alone. As I should.

"Jonas," Mariana whines from the pool. "Aren't you coming in? What, is Mr. Playboy too cool for the pool?"

The "Mr. Playboy" nickname sends a wave of nausea crashing over me, and I swallow thickly. "Nah, I'm just enjoying the heat for now."

Mariana crosses her arms like an angry toddler and drifts over to Charlie. She uncrosses her arms and loops an arm around his neck. He effortlessly slides his arms behind her kneecaps, picking her up. I look away. I don't need any more reasons to feel nauseous, thanks.

"Actually," I say suddenly, springing up from my lounge chair. "I'm gonna go see if I can grab some water bottles. You guys want some?"

"Yeah, I'll take one," Mariana says from her place in Charlie's arms. "Baby?"

"Sure," Charlie nods. "Thanks, Jonas."

I grunt in response, quickly averting my gaze to look for my other siblings. "Jack? Marisa? You guys want some water too?"

"No," Jack says as he cannonballs into the pool. Marisa, holding onto the edge nearby, shakes her head. "Jack, you should really drink some water," she scolds when he comes up for air. "You don't want to get sick on the first day of our vacation."

"Fine," he groans. "You're such a mom, Marisa."

"Oh, yeah? Well I'm older than you, and also stronger," Marisa announces cooly as she splashes him with water.

"Hey!" Jack cries. "Jonas!" Marisa splashes him again.

I start backing away. "I'm out of here. Mariana, make sure they don't kill each other, will you?"

"Yeah, yeah," she says distractedly. Still from her position on Charlie, I might add. Even though there's nobody else aside from us at the pool, this feels like very obvious, very public PDA. Seriously, have they always been like this?