Roatan Plunge | Love Travels #2

Fourteen - Óscar

I'm pretty sure Lorena has me beat after the amazing guided tour we had of the local reef and wildlife without even having to get our hair wet.

But we might never find out, because no matter what anyone tries, Bianca and Enrique will not leave the room. And we cannot do this with them here.

"Go," Lorena says finally, pushing Bianca out of the room. "You are not spending the last few nights before your wedding doing boring tasks like making centerpieces. We have it handled and we will be done in plenty of time to make changes if you hate them, but you have to let us do it. Go to the spa or something."

"Yeah, go grade some papers or something," Carla shouts from the other side of the room, large sewing needle stuck between her teeth as she tries to untangle a gigantic knot she's somehow formed while making a simple seam. I had assumed a fashion designer was going to be better at sewing, but no such luck.

"No one let her near the embroidery," I whisper to Marcia, who's arranging flowers beside me.

"I'm not going to grade papers," my brother protests.

"But you brought it with you, didn't you?" I tease, and Marcia joins in with a laugh.

Enrique's skin heats and he stands up, throwing the bow he was trying to make onto the coffee table. Thirty minutes in and somehow it just keeps getting worse. "Fine, we'll go. But I will figure out why you want to get rid of us."

"Because we want to help you have an amazing wedding and actually enjoy one of the only vacations you are going to get this year. Now go." Lorena stands up and gently pushes Bianca out the door, waiting until Enrique follows after her before shutting and locking the door to the suite we're using for party prep. I think Lorena's friend Carla is staying here with a local guy she says is teaching her legends of the area. I'm not asking any more questions.

Lorena and Carla press their ears to the door, apparently listening to the footsteps disappearing around the corner or the sound of the elevator before they return to the group.

She enters the room and stops, looking over at me with her brows knit together, cute little hands on her hips. I'm very glad she never heard me say that.

We're just staring at each other and the whole room is slowly falling silent, probably watching her stare me down, really hoping her eyes develop the ability to light me on fire from afar.

If only she knew.

"Well, then," Marcia interrupts. "Let's just get this over with so we can get back to work, shall we?"

Lorena pretends she doesn't know what's going on, but there's no point trying to mess with Marcia. She knows what we're all thinking at all times.

Well, I hope not everything all the time.

I can tell Lorena is about to fight her and that will only make it worse for everyone. "Yeah, let's just do the vote. I think we should—"

"No." Lorena cuts in aggressively. "You don't get to decide how it's run. I want Carla to tally the votes."

Oh, so that's the game we're playing then? Fine. "So I don't get to decide, but you do? That's rich. No way."

"Rich," she laughs.

And I admit that was a poor choice of words.

"All right, children," Carla interrupts, ripping a sheet of paper into several smaller pieces and handing one to each member of the bridal party. "Let's write down a name. Lorena and Óscar can count them together and we can be done with it."

"Unless you just want to work together," I offer her one final time. "You've seen how good a helper I can be."

I am waiting for her witty reply. Her quick call to action, telling me to fuck off because she doesn't need my help.