Luke shrugs. “My dad has type one. He always eats when he drinks.”

“Voilà!” Benard sets the fresh, bright-red cocktail on our table. I should apologize and tell him I can’t have another one. But the heat in his eyes—and the sunlight gleaming on his broad chest—reminds me why I’m here in the first place.

“Thanks.” I pick up the new drink and take a long sip through the straw.

Luke stands and sets his plate in front of me. “Ham and cheese.”

I blink at the neatly cut sandwich half, then look up at him.

“I haven’t touched that part.” He steps off the wood plank floor and wanders off down the beach.

Benard sinks into the chair next to mine and places two bottles of water on the table. “Who was that?”

“Just a boy from my school.” But I’ve already forgotten about Luke.

“You two have fun.” Milo clinks his beer against Benard’s and gives him a look I can’t interpret. “The music calls . . .” He heads for a crowd gathered around an Afro-Colombian band playing outside the restaurant.

The sun continues to sink below the horizon while we talk. When I realize my cup is empty again, I look up to see that we’re the only ones left in the restaurant. The owners are wiping tables.

Benard rises and pulls out my chair for me as I stand. Vertigo washes over me, and I clutch the table, waiting for it to pass.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and when I nod, he leaves the issue alone. He doesn’t even glance at my insulin pump.

“Shall we find a spot on the sand?”

I grab my towel from where I left it hours before and follow Benard to a secluded spot on the dark beach. He spreads out the towel and sits, then laughs as I drop onto it next to him, still trying to find my balance. We’re out of sight from the crowd, but we can still hear the music.

His arm around my waist steadies me. The rhythm of the waves lapping the beach lines up with the beat of the drums behind us. This moment is perfect.

“Tu es très belle.” Benard’s lips brush my ear, and the warmth of his breath makes me catch mine. His fingers trail lightly up my neck and into my hair, and I shiver from the touch.

I close my eyes.

He kisses the back of my jaw, and a sigh slips from my throat. For a second, I feel embarrassed by my own inexperience, but Benard only groans and turns my face toward his.

His mouth finds mine, and suddenly I am kissing a beautiful Belgian boy on a moonlit night at the edge of the Caribbean Sea.

79 HOURS EARLIER

GENESIS

I take a hit and pass the joint to Neda, then I turn back to the window. A breeze blows through the two-story open-air hut, bringing with it the scent of the ocean. The hut sits at the top of a rock outcrop, jutting into the water, and the view is spectacular, even at night.

I feel like I’m floating high above the ocean, looking down at the rest of the world.

“Mind if I join you?”

I spin to find Indiana standing behind me. The crooked hat is gone, but the crooked smile is out in full force.

“I’m not going to forget you. You can stop stalking me now.”

He laughs and takes the joint, then gestures with it to his hat, cradled in a blue-striped rental hammock. “I’ve been sleeping there for the past two nights.”

Eleven other hammocks ring the center support column of the round hut like the spokes of a wheel, flickering in candlelight. My group has rented half of them. Ryan and Domenica are already huddled up in one.

I lay one hand over my heart. “So you’re saying I’m stalking you?”

He shrugs. “I think the evidence speaks for itself.”

Neda giggles as Indiana passes the joint to her. “This is why you gave up the cabana,” she whispers to me, loud enough for the whole world to hear. Then she takes a hit and leaves us alone at the window.

Indiana exhales, and the breeze steals his smoke. Laughter erupts behind us as the rest of my friends get high with the West Coast bros from the cornhole game.

“You’re not really with them, are you?” I glance over his shoulder at the other West Coast bros, who are trying—and failing—to pass a joint completely around their circle before someone laughs or exhales.

“I met them at the park entrance a couple of days ago. They’re entertaining and well supplied, so . . .” He shrugs, then looks right into my eyes. “I’ve met a lot of interesting people here.”

“I’ve only met one.” I can practically feel the air crackle between us. “Let’s take a walk on the beach,” I say as I take his arm.

He shakes his head slowly, holding my gaze. “I like the view from up here.” Finally he turns back to the window. “The moon’s reflecting in the water so clearly that it looks like there are two of them.”

I follow his gaze. He’s right about the moon.

“So, how long are you here?” I ask as I stare at the water.

Indiana’s shoulder brushes mine as he shrugs. “Until I get bored or run out of money.”

I turn to him, surprised. “You’re not in school?”

“I’ll probably go back for my senior year next fall. But for now, I’m taking a break from the drama.”

Maybe it’s the pot talking, but for the first time in my life, that sounds kind of peaceful, rather than boring.

Movement at the stairs catches my attention, and when I turn, I see my best friend and my boyfriend on the top step, their backs to us. Holden has his left hand in the air, and Penelope is practically climbing onto his shoulder, trying to get to the joint he’s holding.

She laughs and grasps for his hand again, but every time she reaches, he pulls the joint farther out of her range. He’s playing keep-away.

But she’s not keeping away. She is all over him.

Alarm slices through me. It’s a small pain. But like a paper cut, it stings.

“Where are you from?” Indiana asks, and there’s a strange tone in his voice. It sounds like . . . sympathy.

“Miami.” But I hardly hear myself speak, because Penelope has climbed onto Holden’s lap to pull his arm back into reach. She smiles as she looks down at him. His hand is on her hip.

“Genesis,” Indiana whispers, and I have to blink to keep my eyes in focus.

“They’re just high.” I can’t look away. It’s like staring at a train wreck.