It takes me a moment to realize I’m not breathing. After a few deep breaths, I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder so I don’t have to look him in the eye when I say, “I trust you.”

He kisses the top of my head and moves down, his lips whispering over the curve of my shoulder. I turn my face into his neck and lick his skin, not surprised to find he tastes salty from our day outside in the ocean air. I close my lips around his flesh, scraping my teeth over his skin and pleased to find his cock hardening under his jeans. I slide my hands down and quickly undo his belt and pants, then I push them down hastily.

He chuckles at my urgency as I continue pushing down his blue boxer briefs. “Are you in a hurry, cariño?”

The room is darkening more and more with each passing moment. We need to do this quickly before it gets dark. I don’t want my first time with Nick to be bogged down by memories of Daimon.

“Yes, I’m in a hurry.” I grab his hard length in my right hand and clasp my left hand around the back of his neck to kiss him, but he pulls back. “I have to go to Maria Elena’s for dinner,” I lie. “She invited me this afternoon before we went to lunch.”

“But you just ate. And dinner is not for another four hours or more.”

I smile. “Then we’d better get started if we only have four hours.”

He laughs, but it quickly turns into a moan when I firmly slide my fist down the length of his cock. He’s not as big as Daimon, but that could be a good thing. Daimon had a way of leaving me feeling absolutely destroyed. In every way.

I slip out of my panties and quickly peel off my bra, then I grab him again. Thrusting my hips forward, I try to rub my clit against the tip of his cock, but I end up smashing his dick.

“Puta madre!”

“Sorry!” I cry with absolute mortification. That is not how it happened in my dream.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Just lay down.”

I sit down on the bed then scoot back so I can lie down in the center of the bed. He climbs on top of me, spreading my legs apart so he can settle himself down between my legs. Then it dawns on me.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“Do you have a condom?” I ask, my heart racing as I realize how close I just came to doing something very stupid. I really need to be more careful about these things.

He chuckles as he reaches onto the floor to retrieve his jeans. Digging through the pockets, he finds his wallet and produces a condom from within its folds. He tears it open and my stomach begins to hurt as I watch him slide it onto his erection. This is it. This is really happening.

He kneels between my legs and stares down at me for a moment, admiring my body. I can’t help but feel like we skipped a step. I’m pretty sure we skipped the step where he’s supposed to make me come first.

Oh, well. I guess if people can kiss differently, then it stands to reason that they also fuck differently.

Ten minutes later, Nick rolls off me, exhausted from thrusting his cock into my pussy. I’m a bit annoyed, but I don’t bother bringing it up when he pulls me into his arms to cuddle. I rest my head on his chest as he strokes his fingers softly through my hair.

I sigh as my body begins to relax and I think to myself, Sex is a skill that can be learned, right?

Chapter Six

I feel a little bad about basically kicking Nick out of my bed and my house, but I can’t lie here and pretend to trust him. Especially when I’m getting no satisfaction out of it. But as we stand on my front doorstep, the sad puppy-dog look he’s casting in my direction sparks something inside me. I just can’t figure out if it’s pity or genuine affection.

“I’ll stop by your house tomorrow morning after I go for my morning run.”

“I’ll run with you,” he counters.

Either this guy doesn’t take a hint well or he’s trying to keep an eye on me. Either way, I don’t like it.

“I’d rather go alone. Besides, I’m leaving really early in the morning. And after I run, I’m going to do some shopping. I won’t be long. I’ll stop by your place afterward to say good morning.”

“Buenos días. To say buenos días.”

“Right.”

He takes my face in his hands and lays a soft kiss on my cheekbone. I hold my breath as he plants another kiss on my forehead, then he kisses me slowly. I can’t help but notice that, after just two days together, our kiss has already become synced. Is that all it takes?

It’s hard not to feel a little sad and scared about this. Knowing that if I were to kiss Daimon right now, his kiss would feel foreign to me.

Must. Stop. Thinking. About. Daimon.

I pull away and quickly turn around to head inside. Closing the door softly behind me, I head back to my bedroom to finish myself off. Afterwards, I shower and change into my old uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, and black sunglasses. Then I wait.

***

I wake at five a.m. and pack a canvas grocery bag with some jogging clothes. Then I dress in my black jeans and hoodie and hope that the weather won’t be too hot and humid today. I apply some makeup to cover up my skin discoloration, then I put on one of those uncomfortable brown contact lenses.

I catch the seven a.m. bus to the city and get off on the outskirts of Santa Cruz de la Palma. The buildings are more spread out in this area, but the crime is more condensed. I’m sure if I walk around long enough, I’ll find someone who can help me.

Keeping my hood pulled tight over my head, I walk the streets with my head slung low as I watch the activity. A woman hangs up clothes on a clothesline that stretches from her low roof to the top of the block wall surrounding her dilapidated cottage. She eyes me suspiciously as I walk by, but I ignore her and turn right at the corner. A young guy, about eighteen or nineteen, is standing just inside the gate of a small peach-colored house. He stares at me as I pass and I stare right back to show him I’m not intimidated.

I’m almost past his property when he shouts at me, “American!”

I stop and turn around. Unsure if he shouted it as an insult or a question. We glare at each other for a moment in silence, my heart racing as I anticipate whether or not I’m going to have to beat the shit out of this kid.

“Are you American?”

My instinct is to relax when I realize he’s just asking a question, but this could be a trick. He may be asking if I’m American so he can rob me. He really doesn’t want to try that.

“Yes. Do you speak English?”

He opens the iron gate and steps out onto the sidewalk. “Yes, I speak English.”

His hand moves slowly from his side toward his waist.

“You don’t want to do that.”

His hand stops. “Why?”

“Because I’m an agent with the federal government and I can make your life a living hell.” He narrows his eyes at me, unsure whether he should believe me. “Or… I can offer you a lot of money for your help. Your choice.”

He clenches his jaw as he contemplates my offer, then he slowly lowers his hand to his side. “What kind of help?”

After forty minutes of Jorge trying to get in touch with various different contacts, he finally finds someone who can help me. We walk the nine blocks to his friend Gringo’s house. I don’t know much Spanish, but I know gringo means white man. So it doesn’t surprise me when a forty-something man with blonde hair and muddy grey eyes answers the door of the upstairs apartment.

“Come inside,” he says, without the slightest trace of an accent. This guy must be American.

I shouldn’t go inside a strange apartment with two strange men. I don’t think they’ll be able to kill me, but I would rather not have to kill them. Then I’d have to try to hide out on an island with a population equal to a few L.A. city blocks. Or I’d have to try to escape the island undetected. And that’s a bit more complicated than catching a flight out of LAX.