Palm Island

I thought I had one chance to kiss him, and I blew it. We were 16, and I was an idiot. But now, here he is, standing right in front of me, looking at me with that same expression of awe and adoration that I never lost my addiction to.

I came to Palm Island two seasons ago, confused about my life and desperate for a change. The island drew me in, but I’m still not sure why. Maybe it’s time I cut my losses and go back home, back to med school like I always planned. But when the breathtaking, flirtatious, tattooed bartender I’ve been crushing on for ages offers to let me room with him this off-season, there’s no way I’m leaving now.

Most people on the island avoid the hot-tempered chef, but he doesn't scare me. Sure, he's prickly, but I've also caught him feeding a stray cat, so I know there's more to him than the sky-high barbed-wire fence he's built around himself. When Storm's ex-husband shows up unexpectedly during the off-season and refuses to go home, pretending to be Storm’s boyfriend is apparently my new job. Faking it with my grumpy boss should not be this much fun, especially since the last thing I need is to make a fool of myself by falling for anyone else on the island.

Was pretending to sleep with tons of men to keep my crush from hooking up with them a Dirty Trick? Sure. Do I regret it? Not one bit. Telling Boston I have a thing for him would’ve been the logical thing to do. Unfortunately, logic hasn’t always been my strong suit. I decided to go the—“get under his skin until hostility turns into affection”—route instead, and I think it’s finally working.

Pete doesn’t think he’s fit for island life, but he doesn’t know Palm Island like I do. He might think it’s all drinking on the beach and bed-hopping, but maybe if I can show him the beauty and freedom underneath it all, he might decide to stay.

Most of the guys on Palm Island call me the token straight guy. The truth is, I'm not so much straight as I'm just… nothing. Asexual, demi, the label doesn't make much of a difference to me. And living on an island that's nothing but parties and nudity half the year… well, let's put it this way… I'm the guy who sells clothes.

Of course, I've noticed Angel and Devil noticing me. I've felt their eyes and the deep pulse of their heated wanting. I've also seen plenty of men coming and going from their house all summer long, year after year, and I don't want to be one in a long line. The energy of Palm Island is so strong, it's hard not to get swept up in it sometimes. Temporary lust, the hedonistic thrill of excess I'm only human after all. But something stops me every time I want to give in and let go.