Kimo was probably not even looking at me, but Diya knelt beside the couch and blew on my face as if that actually helped. At least her breath smelled sweet.
“Did you have cookies?” I asked.
“Yes. Work gave us cookies as a thanks for helping out with the crap show the reservation website left us in. So, naturally, I grabbed a few for you. Your fave: white chocolate macnut, you basic bitch.”
“I thought that only applied to my love of PSL and all things autumn.”
“It’s becoming a more inclusive umbrella term.”
“Ah. Good to know. Also thanks!” I inhaled two cookies as soon as she handed them over. Sugar and lots of water, plus shade and cooler temps, alleviated the borderline heat exhaustion that’d been stalking toward me.
“So tell me about this guy,” she said, chin in her hand like a kid asking for a bedtime story.
“No.”
“Why not? And why did he sleep on the couch?”
“Because it’s not like that.”
“He looked cute.”
“Were you watching him sleep?”
“Yes. While I ate granola. He was passed out like a baby.”
I groaned, wiping sweat from my brow and realizing how badly I needed a shower.
“When’s the last time you got some?”
“Diya!” I squeaked. Pointedly looking at Kimo, who was on the adjacent chair surfing the endless channels.
“What? I tell him everything. He already knows.”
Kimo nodded and shrugged, as if saying, “True, and sorry, but what can I do?”
“Oh my god,” I muttered with a shake of my head because little sisters sure thought they had liberty with everything.
“And our parents call me every day for an update.”
I cringed. “On me getting some?”
“No! Ew. On you getting a man. Although I’m sure they know what that entails at some point.”
“Everyone is in my sex life.”
“Everyone except you because you ain’t getting any. Bitch, you better make use of that ‘there’s only one bed for the both of us’ situation. None of this couch business because he’ll find out in the morning that I watch him sleep while eating breakfast.”
“Wow. The language on this one,” I said to Kimo because I couldn’t handle Diya for another second.
He responded, “I’m sorry. She’s been hanging around Keanu, and Keanu can’t have a conversation without cursing.”
“Aw. How is your sister? I didn’t even ask. I’m so rude!”
He lit up. “Keanu’s good. She has one more year at U of H over on Oahu. Keeping it local, even if she’s off island, ya know?”
“I bet your parents miss her.”
“They couldn’t wait to get her out of the house because of her language,” he replied, grinning.
I nodded. The few times I’d met Keanu, her sailor mouth had floored me. Having to watch her language in classes and study groups and in any sort of professional environment had probably helped curb that habit. Or it meant she’d been bottling it up and it exploded the moment she got back. Just a young, cute volcano spewing out profanity.
“Oh! I gotta shower.” I hopped up and hurried to my room, almost forgetting about first impressions with the friends of my fake boyfriend.
After a quick douse, I opened the bathroom and bedroom doors and called out, “Hey! Diya! Something came up!”
Returning to the bathroom, I hurried to dab on a light layer of foundation and mascara, did my brows just a little, maybe lip gloss, and…did I need bronzer, highlighter, blush? No. I’d been in the sun long enough to have a glow by now.
“What are you doing?” Diya asked from the door, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked me up and down.
With a bobby pin in my mouth, I pulled my hair into a ponytail and said, “Remember that coworker who crashed here?”
“Yes. The man. Whom I need to meet, but go on.”
“He’s here for his best friend’s wedding and they invited me to a coffee tour. I bet it’s that place in Holualoa. Good for them for getting more visitors.”
She smacked her lips, her gaze studying the low front of my tank top and my short shorts—by which I meant not knee-length gym shorts. “Looking kinda cute and putting on makeup?”
“Don’t go there. Anyway, is it okay if I bail out for a bit and go with him? Also, he might need to crash another night or two. Guess he’s one of the guests who had their reservations screwed up.”
