It had been the craziest thirty six hours of my life, but nothing, nothing, prepared me for seeing Jake in the morning.

I'd slept sporadically since we'd gotten to Abby's, I was crazy jet lagged. I'm pretty sure Jake was too, because I didn't see him on any of my quick jaunts to the kitchen or the bathroom.

In any case, I didn't fully wake up until the next day. Well, I really didn't have a choice. The rooster outside my window had not shut up, as I had hoped he would, and my pillow was not working anymore as an effective sound blocker.

Oh well. I had to get up anyways. It was the first day on the job. Technically, it was a training day. Technically, the whole week was for training. We had to learn all the hiking paths and the ropes courses and all of that terrifying crap I didn't want to do. Why oh why had I let Abby talk me into this?!

My stomach was turning just thinking about it.

With a resigned grumble, I rolled out of bed. My neck was sore. I think I must have slept on it funny or something. Perfect. That was just perfect. Of course, I hadn't unpacked anything yet either so I had to do that. And I hadn't taken a shower since I was in Massachusetts. Which was making feel increasingly disgusting.

I knew with complete certainty that my hair was a greasy mess, actually that may be the only reason it hadn't gotten frizzy yet. The humidity here was insane.

I padded out into the hallway, rubbing my eyes. My head spun with all the things I had to do today. It was a growing list. I had to unpack, take a shower, brush my teeth, brush my hair, eat something, pack a bag for this death job, get dressed, see if—

"Oh— you are awake," Jake's voice broke through my spiral of stress, momentarily distracting me.

"Yeah, that fucking rooster would not shut—" I inhaled sharply, finally taking in the image before me. "Up," I finished faintly, breathless.

Because there was Jake. Jake and his basketball shorts and his non existent shirt. Jake, whose shirtless figure was plain as day in front of my face. Mere inches away. And oh my god, abs. I think I had to swallow a mouthful of drool.

I mean, I'd known he was in shape. He was built like an athlete, that much I could tell. More so now, since he'd caught me yesterday. He'd felt so solid, muscles defined even beneath his loose t-shirt. I nearly blushed at the memory. Crap. Why was I thinking about his muscles at all?! I should not be thinking about his muscles. There were just so many of them, on full display and— I had to stop staring! Was I staring?!

Did he catch me staring?

I had to speak. I had to say something. I had to STOP LOOKING AT HIS ABS!

I suddenly realized what I was wearing. My bunny print pajama shorts and an old Brookline High fundraiser t-shirt. Oh god— I didn't even want to imagine what I looked like in that moment. Unwashed and newly awake. I was about to burst into flames from the sheer embarrassment.

Jake pulled a shirt over his head, and my heartbeat slowly returned to its normal pace. Though, I found myself surprisingly and terrifyingly disappointed that he was now fully clothed.

He jabbed a thumb at the bathroom door, "I just showered, so— um— bathroom's free now." His hint of a British accent got more pronounced when he said um. It was more of an erm. He sounded like he was straight out of Harry Potter. I wanted to swoon. Just a tiny bit.

"Thanks," I said, hurriedly finger combing my hair. I don't think it helped. At all. "Uh— do you know what time it is?"

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, "6:34."

So I had roughly two and a half hours. Less if I wanted breakfast. And I always wanted breakfast. Abby was probably still sleeping. She could sleep through a hurricane if she wanted to. I'd always envied that ability of hers. And she was a morning person, which made it about a thousand times worse. Whereas I frequently slept through my half a dozen alarms I set for school every day.

"Cool," I nodded, staring fixedly at the carpeted floor. It was orange, the carpet. Rather garish in my opinion. Like something that belonged in a casino on the Vegas strip. I much preferred the warm brown tones and soft, golden hue of Jake's eyes. Of course, I couldn't currently bring myself to look at them. Why? Let's not dwell on it...

Why on earth had Abby decided to get carpet? Carpet? In Hawaii? Between the constant rain and ever present humidity, and the obvious water damage I'd seen yesterday (which I'm pretty sure I had a nightmare about), it was a miracle all these rugs hadn't molded. Oh god what if they had? My sister wasn't one to check those sort of things. When she got back from work I was going to—

"Sophia?" I felt the light brush of fingertips on my shoulder.

I snapped to attention. I hadn't realized I'd zoned out. That happened sometimes. Reagan used to slip an ice cube down my back to get me to return to the present. She thought it was hilarious.

"Huh?" I blinked.

"Just— gotta get by," Jake smiled, navigating himself past me through the narrow hallway. His frame nearly filled the entire passage.

I flattened myself against the opposite wall. The less physical contact between us, the better. I'd learned my lesson yesterday.

"Oh— right. Sorry."

Finally, finally, I was safe inside the bathroom. Which I made completely sure was locked, mind you.

I took a much needed shower, albeit chilly. Leave it to Abby to have terrible water pressure and temperature. Maybe that was mean. But I sort of felt she deserved it a little, after her dig at me yesterday. So what if I was overly cautious? Abby needed more caution in her life. And she knew better than anyone that telling me to relax had the exact opposite effect.

I mean, what was she playing at? Needling me like that in front of Jake. Not that that mattered. At all. I don't know why I said in front of Jake. I didn't care. Why would I care?

The mirror before me was coated with a layer of steam, my reflection a blurry image. I brushed through my hair and quickly realized my mistake. Now, I didn't have curly hair per se. More, wavyish hair, and a lot of it. A lot, a lot. Volume had never been an issue in Massachusetts, but here...it was a different story. I looked like I had a thundercloud sitting atop my head.

As I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, my phone buzzed on the countertop.

tommy 😇: sophiaaaaaa

reagan✨: bro shut up i was sleeping

I slipped my tank top over my head, balancing my phone on my knee so I could see the screen. Ah, the group chat. I figured as much.

Sophia: reagan is it not like past one for you guys rn?

reagan✨: and?

reagan✨: failing to see your point 🤨

reagan✨: like you can talk sleeping beauty

reagan✨: was i the one who missed a whole ass field trip in eighth grade hm?

Sophia: OKAY

Sophia: no need to bring that up REAGAN

tommy 😇: aw it's alright soph, the raccoon onesie you showed up in was cute

Sophia: THANK YOU TOMMY

tommy 😇: anytime :))

reagan✨: whatever loverboy

reagan✨: *gagging*

Sophia: he was just defending me

reagan✨: *flirting with

tommy 😇: SHUT UP

I groaned, palming my forehead. She just would not give it a rest. The whole Tommy thing was not something I wanted to deal with right now. Although...I suppose I never really wanted to deal with it.

Sophia: REAGAN MAEVE RICHARDS

Reagan: yes dear?

Sophia: i will murder u

Sophia: i may be in hawaii but i'll find a way

Reagan: I MISS YOU

Reagan: come back

Sophia: i wish :(

Reagan: OMG I ALMOST FORGOT
Reagan: HOWS HOT AIRPLANE BOY

Sophia: dude don't even

Sophia: and i never said he was hot...

Reagan: DOT DOT DOT?!

Reagan: EXCUSE MOI?

Reagan: what does this mean

Sophia: HE IS

Reagan: what?

Sophia: HE IS HOT
Sophia: SO HOT

Sophia: LIKE HIS ABS ARE JUST—

Reagan: WHAT

Reagan: HOLD TF UP

Sophia: don't go where your mind is going rn

Reagan: too late

Sophia: i may have run into him this morning shirtless

Sophia: him shirtless

Sophia: not me shirtless

Reagan: okay y/n get it

Reagan: tell me more

"Hey Sophia?" Jake's call came echoing through the house, interrupting my conversation with Reagan.

Sophia: one sec

Sophia: may need to continue this later

Reagan: SOPH
Reagan: ARE YOU KIDDING

Reagan: BITCH

I trudged out of the bathroom, shoving my phone into my pocket. I was certainly going to pay for that later.

Jake was in the kitchen, standing in front of a mostly barren refrigerator. He turned when I entered.

"I was looking for breakfast, but I think we might have to go out if we want something other than," he paused, peering into the fridge again, "chia seeds, what looks like shockingly old leftover ziti, or expired yogurt."

I shook my head, "Typical Abby."

"So...do you want to go somewhere?" he asked, shutting the fridge door with a resounding thump. "I'm starving, but if you're not—"

"Nope," I interrupted, "also starving." As if on cue, my stomach grumbled loudly.

Jake bit back a smile, "Got it." He scratched his head, "We should probably head straight to orientation after, if that sounds fine?"

"Perfect. Just let me grab my bag."

I bounded down to my room, neatly packing everything I might need in my navy backpack. I'd been using it since the sixth grade. It used to be Abby's. And before that, my mom's. What would I need for this death job anyway? My comprehensive first aid kit for sure. A change of clothes was always a must.

When I was grabbing my necklace off the dresser, I spied a small scrap of paper stuck on the vanity. I recognized my sister's messy scrawl instantly.

Feed Stevie please <33

—Abs

Crap. I'd almost forgotten about the cat. Stevie and I had always had a complicated relationship. Those yellow eyes followed me, I swear.

Jake ducked into the room, rapping a soft knock on the outside of the door, "Hey, I forgot to ask— do we have any means of transportation?" Then he winced, "Or a less weird way of asking if we have a car that doesn't make me sound like an elderly pretentious douchebag."

I did my best not to giggle, "I swear I'm not laughing at you."

"Mmmmm," Jake folded his arms, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Sure. Your lips are pressed together like you're trying to hold something in. Did you forget I could read body language?" That stupid, smug, cute smirk of his. He thought he was so cool with his crazy Criminal Minds skills. I'd show him.

I flicked my gaze up, eyeing him with a coy smile, "Why are you looking at my lips, Sherlock?"

Jake opened his mouth, then closed it. He was flustered. I had successfully flustered him. "Moving on," he said, and I smiled triumphantly. "Car? No car?"

The two of us headed back down the hall

"Surprisingly enough, she does have two cars," I answered, scouring the shelves by the front door for the keys. "One of Abs's exes left his truck here and never came back for it." I rummaged through some more drawers. There was no organizational system whatsoever in this house. Of course there wasn't. It was Abby.

I bent down to the floor and began to crawl on any hands and knees. Where were those keys? They had to be here somewhere.

"Found them!" I exclaimed, snatching them out from under the table. I moved to rise, but it was unsuccessfully accomplished. My head hit the edge of the table with a resounding crack as I stood, "Ow!" I rubbed my head, pain blooming along my temples. This day just kept getting better and better.

I heard a poorly concealed snort from behind me and I whirled around, glaring.

Jake put his hands up in innocence, the corner of his mouth quirking up, "I swear I'm not laughing at you." I narrowed my eyes at him, and he backed away, "Scary eyes."

That was the second time he'd said that. I think I sort of liked it. I don't know why. Maybe it was because of the way he said it. The light rasp of his voice, the tone sweet and teasing.

I tossed the keys at him, "Here." And annoyingly enough, he caught them with swift ease. He just had to be athletic huh? "I have to feed the cat, but I'll meet you out there in a sec."

He nodded, grabbing both of our bags and disappearing out the door.

Quickly, I poured some cat food in the small metal bowl. It smelled awful. I wrinkled my nose, calling to the orange tabby. Stevie came slinking around the corner, and I gave her a chaste pat on the head before rushing out the door. Making sure to lock it behind me.

I don't care if that was what people did here or not. I was locking the damn door.

It looked as though Jake had just finished packing our stuff into the bed of the truck, and I made my way over to the passenger door.

Jake's brow furrowed, "You want me to drive?"

"If that's alright," I said, chewing on my lower lip. "I don't really like driving." I bunched up the material of my shorts in my hands, clenching and unclenching.

I didn't like driving. In fact, I despised. I had my license, but I drove as little as possible. When I was behind that wheel— sometimes it was like I couldn't breathe. All I thought about was my mom. That one fateful snowy night and the drunk driver who— I inhaled sharply, squeezing my eyes shut.

I wondered if Jake would pry, he must have noticed my reaction. But to my relief, he said nothing, merely sliding into the drivers seat.

The car was old, rattling along the bumpy highway. I don't think it had been paved in years. Odd, considering it was the only highway on the island.

I had searched up places to get breakfast on my phone before we left, and picked the closest one because we were running a little bit behind schedule. Which was totally not stressing me out. Totally.

Anyways, Jake was currently driving to a coffee shop about five or so minutes away from Kona Valley Excursions. The gnawing feeling of fear in the pit of my stomach had not yet dissipated, but I hoped it would once I got some food in me. I just needed to keep myself distracted.

No sooner had I thought that, my phone started ringing. Perfect. A distraction had just been dropped in my lap. Thank you, universe.

I picked up the phone, looking to see who was calling.

The name flashed across the screen: Tommy Larsen.

Shit. This was not a distraction I wanted. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to talk to Tommy. Truly. Just not in this car, in front of Jake. Also, I was mildly afraid he would bring up what happened at senior prom and I was not ready for that conversation.

Damn it, universe!

With a sigh, I sent the call to voicemail.

"Boyfriend?" Jake side eyed me, cocking his head.

I gave him a look, "Not this again."

"You have not yet given me a clear answer," he protested.

"And you have not yet given me a clear reason why you want to know," I retorted pointedly, lifting a shoulder. "Besides, Sherlock, shouldn't you have already figured it out?"

Jake groaned, "You could just tell me, you know."

"Now what would be the fun in that?" I glanced at him for a moment, my lips curving mischievously. Then I relented, "I don't have a boyfriend."

I'd never had one, really. I'd gone on dates before, sure, but never anything serious. Most people in high school assumed Tommy and I were dating so that kind of hindered things.

Jake visibly brightened, or maybe it was only my imagination. Wishful thinking. Wait— what?! Not wishful thinking. I wasn't wishing that he— he probably didn't even care. I didn't care. Neither of us cared.

He grinned, "Was that so hard, Sophia?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Hey, Randall," Jake nudged me softly as we pulled in to the parking lot. His words were a low whisper, "Good to know."