People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry (best story books to read .TXT) 📕

We are just looking at each other. There are no hard edges to grab hold of, no distinct markers on this moment’s beginning or end, nothing to separate it from the millions just like it.

But this, this is the moment I first think it.

I am in love with you.

The thought is terrifying, probably not even true. A dangerous idea to entertain. I release my hold on it, watch it slip away.

But there are points in the center of my palms that burn, scorched, proof I once held it there.

24

This Summer

THE APARTMENT HAS become the seventh ring of hell, and there’s no sign Nikolai has been there. In the bathroom, I change into my bikini and an oversized T-shirt, then fire off another angry text demanding an update.

Alex knocks on the door when he’s finished changing in the living room, and we skulk down to the pool, towels in hand. We sneak over to check the gate first. “Locked,” Alex confirms, but I’ve just noticed the bigger problem.

“What. The. Hell.”

He looks up and sees it: the empty concrete basin of the pool.

Behind us, someone gasps. “Oh, hon, I told you it was them!”

Alex and I spin around as a middle-aged leathery-tanned couple comes bounding up. A redheaded woman in sparkly cork heels and white capris beside a thick-necked man with a shaved head and pair of sunglasses balanced on the back of his head.

“You called it, babe,” the man says.

“The Newwwwwlyweds!” the woman sings, and grabs me in a hug. “Why didn’t y’all tell us you were headed to the Springs?”

That’s when it clicks. Hubby and Wifey from the cab ride out of LAX.

“Wow,” Alex says. “Hi. How’s it going?”

The woman’s neon-orange fingernails release me, and she waves a hand. “Oh, you know. Was going good until this nonsense. With the pool.”

Hubby grunts agreement.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Some kid went and diarrhea’d in it! A lot, I guess, because they had to go and drain the whole thing. They say it should be up and running again tomorrow!” She frowns. “Of course, tomorrow, we’re off to Joshua Tree.”

“Oh, cool!” I say. It’s a strain to sound bright and chipper when really, my soul is quietly shriveling within the empty shell of my body.

“Won a free stay there.” She winks at me. “I’m good luck.”

“Sure are,” Hubby says.

“I’m not just saying that!” she goes on. “We won the lottery a few years back—not one of those quadrillion-dollar ones but a nice little chunk, and I swear, ever since then it’s like I win every raffle, sweepstakes, and contest I so much as look at!”

“Amazing,” Alex says. His soul, it sounds like, has also shriveled.

“Anyway! We’ll leave you two lovebirds to do your bidding.” She winks again. Or maybe her false eyelashes are just sticking together. Hard to say. “Just couldn’t believe what weird luck it was that we were staying in the same place!”

“Luck,” Alex says. He sounds like he’s in a bad-luck-induced trance. “Yeah.”

“It’s a tiny world, ain’t it?” Wifey says.

“It is,” I agree.

“Anyway, y’all enjoy the rest of your trip!” She squeezes one of each of our shoulders and Hubby nods, and then they’re off and we’re left standing in front of the empty pool.

After three silent seconds, I say, “I’ll try to call Nikolai again.”

Alex says nothing. We go back upstairs. It’s ninety degrees. Not metaphorically. It’s literally ninety degrees. We don’t turn on any lights except the one in the bathroom, like even one more illuminated bulb could get us to an even hundred degrees.

Alex stands in the middle of the room, looking miserable. It’s too hot to sit on anything, to touch anything. The air feels different, stiff as a board. I dial Nikolai repeatedly as I pace.

The fourth time he rejects the call, I let out a scream and stomp back to the kitchenette for the scissors.

“What are you doing?” Alex asks. I just storm past to the balcony and stab the plastic sheeting. “That’s not going to help,” he says. “It’s as hot out there as it is in here tonight.”

But I can’t be reasoned with. I’m hacking away at the plastic, cutting down giant strip after giant, tattered strip and tossing them onto the ground. Finally half of the balcony is open to the night air, but Alex was right. It doesn’t matter.

It is so hot I could melt. I march back inside and splash my face with cold water.

“Poppy,” Alex says, “I think we should check into a hotel.”

I shake my head, too frustrated to speak.

“We have to,” he says.

“That’s not how this is supposed to go,” I bite out, a sudden throb going through my eye.

“What are you talking about?” he says.

“We’re supposed to do this how we used to!” I say. “We’re supposed to be keeping things cheap and—and rolling with the punches.”

“We have rolled with a lot of punches,” Alex insists.

“Hotels cost money!” I say. “And we’re already going to have to drop two hundred to get that horrible car a new tire!”

“You know what costs money?” he says. “Hospitals! We’re gonna die if we stay here.”

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to go!” I half shout, a broken record.

“It’s how it’s going!” he fires back.

“I just wanted it to be how it used to be!” I say.

“It’s never going to be like that!” he snaps. “We can’t go back to that, okay? Things are different, and we can’t change that, so just stop! Stop trying to force this friendship back to what it used to be—it’s not going to happen! We’re different now, and you have to stop pretending we aren’t!”

His voice breaks off, eyes dark, jaw taut.

There are tears blurring my vision, and my chest feels like it’s being sawed in half as we stand there in the half dark, facing off in silence, breathing hard.

Something disrupts the silence. A low, distant rumble, and then, a quiet tap-tap-tapping.

“Do