Chapter 7: Beachbound & Beyond

Because I’d started this whole charade about going out for fun, I was still standing over my half-packed suitcase, trying to figure out where I could actually go. Home to my parents? Couch-surf with my cousin in Chicago? Suddenly, all my big talk about being a strong, independent woman felt paper-thin.

I could try to ask for a breakup, make it clean. But since Jason caught me in the act, I felt trapped by my own lie. And after last night’s dream, my heart was a mess.

“So, where are you going?”

Jason appeared at the door, timing as perfect as always. The little black snake followed him, curling around his hand like it belonged there. He watched me, expression unreadable. “Or did your friend bail on you?”

The answer fell into my lap. I nodded, grateful for the excuse.

“Want me to go with you then?” he asked, a touch of hope in his voice.

I opened my mouth, but before I could answer—

A cheerful voice cut in.

“Jason.”

Brooke, now rocking ripped jeans and a vintage Nirvana tee, bounced in with a megawatt smile. “And Lily, packing up? Where are you two going to have fun?”

My chest tightened. I ducked my head, biting back a sigh.

Jason answered smoothly, “I don’t know, her friend stood her up, so I said I’d go with her. I was just asking where she wanted to go.”

Brooke grinned, flashing a peace sign. “Didn’t you say Lily’s never seen the ocean? Let’s get some sand between our toes. Beach trip rules: no snakes, no drama, just fun.”

“That works,” Jason said, glancing at me.

My shoulders drooped. I stared at the floor, tongue-tied.

Brooke knelt beside me, giving my shoulder a gentle poke. “Come on, I’ll take pretty pictures of you. He’s a straight guy, what does he know?”

I looked up, meeting her smile. It was open, maybe even genuine. My planned refusal faded.

Jason didn’t ask twice. “Pack your things. I’ll book the tickets.”

So now it was official. An engaged couple—plus Brooke. The three of us, going to the beach together. Nothing says relationship goals like inviting your boyfriend’s snake-whisperer friend on vacation.

[No way, what’s going on here? Three people? Author, come out, we need to talk.]

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*Note: In American folklore, the ‘vulnerable spot’ on a snake is about a third of the way down from its head. Here, it also carries a risqué double meaning.