After my phone call with Mom, I hadn't been willing to go back to the room, so I decided to take a walk along the beach. Now alone with my thoughts once more, my mind kept replaying what Ryan had said to me.
What had he meant by his words? Why had they left me so uncomfortable? Why was the idea of "some other girl not being me" making me feel things I most definitely shouldn't be feeling? It wasn't like he was confessing to loving me or anything. But the meaning behind his words and the actual words he'd used, out of all the words he could have used . . . they left me incredibly confused.
As I dug my toes into the sand I thought about it further. He could have just meant that I was his favourite victim. That probably was what he meant. After all, he hated me. He always had. We'd grown up hating each other.
I didn't even remember how it all started, but, for as long as I could remember he'd gone out of his way to make my life harder. Pulling pranks. Calling me names. Ganging up on me with his friends. I'd learned to ignore it.
Still, it wasn't long before I started retaliating a little. I began to develop a wider, and possibly not very ladylike vocabulary for those oh so lovely moments when he'd ride by on his bike and call me something insulting or throw something at me. For a long time I thought it was because of my hair colour, because a lot of the time his comments seemed to be directed at that.
I hadn't seen anything wrong with having red hair—personally, I thought it was a gorgeous colour. But it didn't seem so strange for Ryan to have issues with red hair when so many other people I'd grown up with seemed to have issues with it, too.
One thing I'd learned very early on is that people love to make fun of people who are different. Being a natural born redhead is actually quite rare.
There's so much nonsense surrounding the stereotypical personality of someone with red hair—something I'd never listened to, myself. And watching kids like me grow up getting bullied gave a sense of normality to the idea. At the very least, it gave me a reason to suspect why Ryan disliked me. It also gave me more reason to dislike him. I mean, why would somebody—of all things—pick on someone for the colour of their hair? It was so stupid!
When Ryan became more creative with his insults and pranks, I realised that maybe it didn't have anything to do with me having red hair. Maybe he just genuinely disliked me for existing. And let me tell you—that wasn't so far-fetched, either. I could name a number of people who hadn't done anything to me, but whose presence I couldn't stand all the same. Don't ask me why—I just knew better than to bully them about it.
I guess my retaliation had led Ryan to believe that I hated him as much as he hated me. (Which, quite honestly, was pretty true. He hadn't given me any reason not to hate him.) Our complicated relationship had grown worse and worse over the years—and now, we had to share a room.
Oh, the joy.
I was wandering past Reception when I spotted Savannah. I called out to her and headed her way.
"Hey!" she greeted me. "Ooh, you're looking much better now!"
"That's because the sea is way over there." I pointed behind me and she giggled.
"Aubany, my room is amazing!" she said excitedly. "It has a private balcony which looks over the sea, and a jacuzzi tub! Oh, and it has the softest king bed with yellow and orange sheets! Yellow is my favourite colour!"
"What? We didn't get a jacuzzi tub!" I grumbled. I pretended to sulk, and we both laughed.
"So, let me guess. You have a fear of the sea or something, don't you?" she said. I nodded.
"Then what are you doing here?" she asked, looking utterly confused. I explained my situation to her, and she gave me a sympathetic look.
"That's awful," she said when I'd finished. "I'm so sorry about your Mom. And your roommate. Although, I will admit, he looked kind of cute."
"Trust me, he isn't worth your time," I replied.
"Well, I was going to ask you if you wanted to do some activities with me but they all pretty much involve water . . ."
"Don't get me wrong, I would love to do activities with you," I said, "but I just can't."
"It's okay. Maybe we can just go exploring. See what the island has to offer." she suggested.
I decided that was a brilliant idea. It would keep my mind off Ryan for a while and ensure I didn't have to be around him for at least a few hours.
We followed the map so we wouldn't get lost. We walked along a little path that curved around a rock garden, and soon came across a pool area. The summer heat made the idea of a swim very tempting, but I would've had to go back to my room to get my swimsuit. The whole point of taking a walk was so that I wouldn't have to go back and face Ryan, so we simply walked around it.
There were two pools in this area, one smaller than the other. The bigger one had a swim-up bar, and the smaller one—closer to the gardens, had a bridge.
We crossed the bridge and Savannah made us stop so she could check out a hot guy who was diving in. I had to admit, he did have a cute face. And seeing him shirtless wasn't too bad either.
Eventually, I managed to steer Savannah away and we headed back along the beach towards the Tiki Village, where all the shops were. Most of it was just souvenir stuff—dolphin bracelets, shell earrings, postcards that cost more than they were worth, and expensive straw hats with pretty ribbons tied around them. There was an ice cream stand nearby and yet another pool (this one shaped like a jellybean).
When our legs got sore from walking, we stopped to sit down—and just talked. Savannah was nineteen years old, from Florida like me, and worked at a modelling agency as an assistant. When I told her I was still in high school, she was surprised.
"You look older than seventeen," she said.
"Everyone says that," I replied.
When it started to get dark, I told her I was going to head back to my room. The island had little golf carts that escorted people around, and I decided to take one rather than trek all the way back to Sea Spray Beach.
When I got back to the huts, I fumbled for my key card, but couldn't find it. Panic swept through me when I realised I'd left it behind in the room.
Dammit.
I took a deep breath to calm down. No biggie. All I had to do was knock and Ryan would let me in. And sure, he'd probably make fun of me or make a stupid remark, but it wasn't such a big deal.
I knocked. When there wasn't any answer, I knocked again. Slowly, I realised he must have gone out.
Now I really had a reason to panic. Where had he gone? And how would I get into the room?
I spun around, looking for an answer, when I spotted someone walking down the path dressed in a staff uniform. She looked as if she was in the middle of taking someone's bags to their room.
"Excuse me!" I called. She came to a stop in front of me. "I've forgotten my key card in my room and I'm locked out," I said.
She pulled out the master card from her pocket and slid it in. The door opened, and I sighed in relief. It looked like I wouldn't have to deal with Ryan after all.
"Thank you so much," I told her.
She smiled. "No problem."
I headed inside. It wasn't until I'd taken a few steps that I realized something was wrong. The curtains were closed and there was only one bed, which had clearly been used. The wall was moss green, not turquoise. And someone was in the room.
Changing.
"Oh crap . . ." I whispered. The man turned around, but I was already running out.
"Hey!" came an angry voice behind me as I ran down the path. I ran faster, not looking back. I ducked behind a wall and stood there for what seemed like forever, not knowing what to do.
If that wasn't my room, which one was? Where was Ryan when I actually needed him?
Just my luck, a familiar figure walked past right then, with a head of messy black hair and his hands in his pockets as he walked. Speak of the devil.
"Ryan!" I called, walking over to him. He turned around. I saw his expression turn to surprise as I appeared out of nowhere.
"Geez, there you are! I've been looking everywhere. I thought you wandered off and got lost," he said, folding his arms and glaring.
I frowned at him. "Please. I wouldn't get lost. I'm not a kid."
"You could have fooled me," he muttered sarcastically. I was about to snap back at him when he added, "So, why did you call my name? I would've thought that getting my attention would be the last thing you'd want to do."
"Um . . . I forgot my key card," I admitted, turning my head away from him. Technically, I guess I had gotten lost by going in the wrong room, but I wasn't about to tell him that.
"That's exactly the kind of thing a kid would do!" he announced.
I glared at him.
He sighed, shaking his head. "What would you do without me?" He pulled out his key card and dangled it in front of me with a smug smile. "Follow me," he said.
I really didn't want to, but there was no point in staying put or running off again. He seemed to enjoy this small moment—when I needed his help. I hated that I had no choice but to rely on him.
He led me down the hall and stopped outside our cabin, which, now that I looked at it, clearly had a different shade of paint.
When I stepped inside, I noticed that Ryan had made himself at home. His luggage was unpacked and his suitcase was pushed up against the wall, out of the way. Mine lay untouched on the far bed, the one Ryan had originally insisted on having. I crossed over to it and began to unpack, just to keep myself busy. Ryan occupied himself by watching TV, and we ignored each other. The silence between us was almost comfortable.
When I'd finished unpacking, I grabbed one of my books and looked around for a place to sit and read. Inside, I would be distracted, but outside on the balcony, I'd get sick from the sea air. I was about to sit down in a chair when Ryan looked up at me. For a moment, I was reminded of his comment that had made me leave in the first place.
"You look kind of miserable," he noted.
I shot him a look. "I wonder why," I replied bitterly.
"Are you always going to be this moody?" he asked, frowning. I ignored him, took a seat, and opened my book to read. "I thought about you being stuck on an island for six weeks with nothing to do, and it made me kind of sad."
I looked up.
"I'm sorry?" I said. I'd never heard him say anything like that before. Why would he be sad for me?
Then I saw the way he was trying not to smile, and the mischievous look in his eyes.
"So I took the liberty of ensuring you wouldn't be sitting around here sulking for the next six weeks," he said. "I booked us to go on a kayaking trip."
For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. Had he really just said what I thought he'd said?
"You what?" I asked tensely. "Ryan . . . in case you don't remember . . . I'm afraid of the sea!"
"And I plan to use that to my advantage," he grinned. "Besides, I'm doing you a favor. By the end of this holiday, you'll have done so many water-related activities that your fear of the sea will be long gone!"
"I don't want to confront my fear of the sea," I said darkly. "I don't want to go anywhere near it!" What made him think he could force me to do something like that?
"You can't just sit here doing nothing," he pointed out.
"Yeah? Give me one good reason why not!" I replied.
He got to his feet and crossed over to me.
"You're wasting a brilliant opportunity to live life, make some memories, experience new things," he explained. He pried the book from my hands and held it out of my reach. I tried to grab it, but he was too tall.
"I wasn't going to sit here the whole time. There are lots of things I can do! You know, stuff that doesn't include the sea," I snapped.
"Like?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well . . . I went exploring today. And . . . there's the spa. And swimming pools—"
"Yes, very life changing. I bet you can't do any of that in Florida," Ryan said sarcastically.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "I can also rent a bike and ride around the island. That's adventurous enough for me."
"Look, you're going kayaking with me, and that's that. I'm not going to let you get out of it," he said firmly.
"And what if I refuse?" I challenged, folding my arms. I should have known better than to say that.
He seized the opportunity to terrorize me within seconds, picking me up and taking me out to the balcony.
"What are you doing?" I asked frantically, trying to escape from his strong grip.
"Oh, look at that," Ryan said with an evil smile. "The sea is just a few yards below us. I wonder what would happen if I dropped you down there?"
"Are you crazy?" I cried. "What if there are rocks? What if something stings me?"
"Why don't we find out?" he asked in a low voice, his breath tickling my ear. A shiver went down my spine. He held me over the rail, ready to drop me at any second.
"No! Stop! Okay, fine, I'll go. Just don't drop me! Please!" I pleaded, clinging to him. He smirked, and let me down on the balcony. I let out a huge sigh of relief, clutching the hand railing.
"You're so cute when you panic, Aubany," he teased. I fought the urge to slap him.
"You're going to shut up and leave me alone now," I said darkly, glaring daggers at Ryan.
"Then it's settled," he sang, looking pleased with himself. He headed back inside, leaving me to wonder what I ever did to land myself in hell with the devil himself.