She tries hard not to smile and just shakes her head. Oh, she’s learned how to play his games since the last time. I should break this up, I think. But I’m hypnotized by their easy banter.

“What do you want?” he asks.

I nudge Lo with my foot. He needs to see this! They’re about to strike some deal that is not going to be pretty. I try to find Rose and Connor too, but they’ve drifted over to the pool-side bar.

Lo reluctantly tears away from his phone and follows my gaze, watching my sister and his brother.

And then Daisy’s sly smile falters. “I don’t know what I want,” she realizes.

“Well that’s a problem.”

Lo gives me a stare like that’s what you’re freaking out over? Really? It’s all in my head, isn’t it?

“And I don’t have time for you to figure it out,” Ryke tells her. “The taco will be cold by then.” He peels the aluminum foil back and holds out the end to her. “Come on, just one bite.” His tone isn’t kind or soft. It’s rough and forceful, something that Daisy is not used to, I think. Her curiosity twinkles in her eyes.

Daisy stares at Ryke for a long moment. “Why do you want me to eat this so badly?”

“Because your body needs something more than fucking rum, ice and piña colada mix.”

“My agency would disagree.”

“Your agency fucking sucks,” he says.

“You would try to make every model eat cake, wouldn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

She smiles. “You know they’d just throw up afterwards.”

“You better not—”

“I’m not bulimic,” she says. “I’m not even anorexic. I just know what I should and should not eat. And trust me, when I’m not counting down the days to a photo shoot, I’ll pig out. But I have a runway in three weeks. Everyone will be pinching my fat, and you won’t be there to see their disappointed, disgruntled looks. I will.”

“I think,” Ryke says slowly, trying to process the words, “you need to realize that this taco isn’t going to add an inch on your waistline. If you have as great willpower as you say, then eating this won’t cause you to binge tomorrow.”

I kind of want to clap. He actually makes complete sense, and Daisy contemplates his whole statement with high regard. And then she nods in acceptance.

“Okay,” she says. “But just one bite.”

“Unless you love it.”

“Like I said—”

“You like many things, that doesn’t mean you should eat them,” he finishes. “I heard you.”

“You listen,” she says mockingly. “What kind of guy are you?”

“The rare kind.”

My shoulders tense. Are they flirting? Does Lo see this? He is watching, but I can’t read his expression at all. His muscles, however, pull tight.

“Okay,” Daisy says, eyeing the taco. “I’ll eat it.”

“Stop talking about it and do it,” he says.

She sets a hand on his leg and the other on his wrist as he holds out the taco. She leans forward to take a bite, and I swear, her eyes connect with his the entire time. There’s something incredibly dirty about this—I see it, does anyone else?

Lo says nothing.

When she takes a bite, her eyes flutter closed and she lets out an audible moan. “Oh my God,” she mumbles, chewing.

Ryke wears a satisfied grin, like he won the best prize, seeing her happy (or making an orgasmic noise, I have no idea). Sauce leaks onto her chin, but her head is tilted back, too absorbed in food bliss to notice. He uses his thumb to wipe the sauce right below her lip.

“Good, right?”

She swallows. “The best.”

Okay, maybe I’m the only one processing the event in a phallic way. Ryke and Daisy act completely innocent about the entire ordeal. Maybe they don’t even realize how sexual it all was. (At least it wasn’t a hot dog.)

“Here.” He holds out the rest of the taco.

Surprisingly, Daisy accepts the food, taking the foil from his hands. “Thanks,” she says in genuine appreciation. And then she swims off towards Connor and Rose.

Lo opens his mouth, and I wonder if he’s about to chastise Ryke. But how can he when Daisy ate something healthy for once? That has to be a win, right? Before Lo says a thing, Melissa returns and we all go quiet. Well, technically Lo and I were already quiet, but the air stretches in an uncomfortable way.

Melissa sits beside Ryke on the cement, and she leans a shoulder into him. He wraps his arm around her.

“The maids are done with our room,” she tells him, practically batting her eyelashes.

That’s where she went—to check on the status of our room? If I’m not allowed to have sex there, then why can she? I look to Lo for answers, but his gaze has permanently fixed on Ryke.

“I already talked to you about it,” Ryke says evenly.

“Yeah, but the public bathrooms are so gross.” She looks up at Lo and me. “You guys don’t care if we fool around for a couple minutes back in the room, right? We’ll stick to the cot.”

“Daisy is sleeping on the cot tonight,” I remind her. Daisy offered to sleep on the floor, not wanting to ruin our arrangements with her impromptu arrival, but Ryke refused to let her crash on the ground. He was nice enough to take the worst spot.

“Then we’ll use the couch,” she says with a shrug. “You two are free to go back and have fun whenever. Really, it doesn’t bother me.” Hope surges through me. This is my opportunity to have sex later this week. Just when I’m about to tell her to frolic right on over to the room, Ryke has to speak.

“It bothers Rose and Connor.”

Her face falls. “Oh.”

An awkward silence soaks the air, and Daisy swims over to cut it right up. “Rose and Connor are fighting,” she exclaims. She lifts her body out of the pool and sits on the chair next to me. “It’s kind of scary. I don’t understand half the words coming out of their mouths.” Her hair looks almost brown now that it’s wet. She wrings it out in her hands.

I glance at the pool-side bar. Sure enough, Rose and Connor square off, their mouths moving in such rapid succession that they look as if they’re on a debate team. People surrounding them watch in amusement and even awe.

“Anyone want a refill?” Melissa asks. She stands and waves her empty cup.

“I could take a daiquiri,” Daisy says.

“Virgin, right?”

Daisy doesn’t even blink. “No, I’m drinking rum.”

“I don’t really condone underage drinking. You’re what, seventeen?”

“Sixteen,” she says, still unaffected by Melissa’s edgy words. “In some countries, I’m old enough to be married and sold into prostitution, so hey, I think a couple of drinks won’t necessarily kill me.”

“Well life is different here. We’re in America.”

“We’re in Mexico, actually.”

Melissa’s throat bobs, but she tries to brush off her snafu with a shrug. “Yeah, whatever.”

Ryke hardly suppresses his grin, and when he meets Daisy’s gaze, she gives him a look like you’re going to get in trouble.

Ryke does not care what anyone thinks of him, even his somewhat-girlfriend.

Melissa sets a hand on her hip. “Want anything, babe?” she asks Ryke with a little force.

He doesn’t drink. We all know that, and so her power move is completely obvious.

“No, I’m good,” he says. When she struts off in her black bikini, Daisy tilts her head, watching Melissa’s butt bounce all the way to the tiki hut. “She does have a nice ass.”

“Yeah?” Ryke says casually, eyeing Daisy as she observes Melissa.

“Oh yeah,” Daisy says. “But I’d put my ass in contention too.” I think she’s testing Ryke.

Lo stiffens beside me, and he waits to see how his brother is going to respond. Shut it down, Ryke—I can hear Lo recite in his head. Or I’d like to think I can hear him. I still haven’t developed that superpower yet.

“Her ass is better. Sorry,” he says, but he never looks back at Melissa. Daisy has stolen his attention.

She shrugs. “You’re probably right, but if I had to rank asses, Rose’s would be number one. She has the best hair too.”