Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I mean, he hasn’t before (that I know of), but Cole is very “by the book.” And I mean that literally—the book is actually kept in his desk drawer.
It’s why most people keep a healthy distance from him. They’re scared he’s going to run and tell Daddy on us if we step out of line. There’s more to it than just that, though. At Siesta Playa, there’s a clear divide between management and the rest of us. There’s the group of people who run the place: the CEO, director of operations, general manager, director of food and beverage, et cetera . . . I think I see those guys like once a year, tops. The rest of us have roles here that are far less glamorous: bartenders, surf instructors, boat captains, line cooks, lifeguards. We all live in staff housing on site. Picture a tiny room with a twin bed and not much else. But we make it work. Most of us are away from home and on our own, and we’re an eclectic mix: recent college graduates, retirees, nomads, nature lovers. Or in Cole’s case: stuffy boardroom types who get off on spreadsheets and ruining people’s fun.
He belongs in neither of the two groups. An entity unto himself. He’s too young to really fit in with the directors, and also he lives in staff housing like the rest of us. It’s tricky, though, because he also doesn’t quite fit in my world either. The very idea of him shooting the shit with Blaze or Théo or Oscar . . . it’s inconceivable.
Still . . .
“I guess . . . if you wanted . . .” I’m forcing the words. They’re thick and heavy on my tongue. It’s like someone’s holding a gun to my head.
He frowns like he’s disappointed with me, and then he shakes his head. It’s nothing new.
Before I can say anything else, he turns and walks away.
Chapter Two
PAIGE
It’s no coincidence that I’ve found myself working at a place like Siesta Playa. My parents are both marine biologists actively working in the field, i.e., two absolute kooks who’d rather be swimming alongside sea turtles than having to deal with real live people. I’m surprised they even wanted a kid. Though lovely and supportive, they were ill prepared to offer me a structured childhood of any sort. My adolescent years were spent globe-trotting, hopping from school to school, friend group to friend group. They didn’t see why a child should slow them down. Need two researchers to explore the Indian Ocean? Great! Paige knows how to swim; it should be fine.
Their adventure-loving ways clearly rubbed off on me because even in college, I never settled down for long. I studied abroad in Portugal and New Zealand and spent a year at sea after graduation before deciding that there was just something . . . missing.
A part of me worried I was only living that way of life because it’s all I knew, not because it necessarily made me happy. In practice, it’s harder than it sounds to be that casual and carefree. Logistically, it’s a nightmare trying to figure out where exactly you’ll be from one week to the next. Also, there’s a real loneliness that accompanies that way of life. You end up feeling like a perpetual tourist, as if you don’t really belong anywhere. Living only for the thrill of new adventures eventually starts to get old, and more than anything, I felt myself longing for lasting connections and a place I could get used to. Becoming a regular at a coffee shop—having someone call out to me, “Vanilla latte, extra shot?”—started to sound way more exotic than stuffing clothes into a backpack and taking off to parts unknown.
I wanted roots. I wanted routine. I wanted a home.
I decided if I was going to be in one place for a long time, I’d better pick somewhere amazing. So that’s how I decided the island life was for me.
I’ve been in Turks and Caicos for a year, and I love it. There’s still plenty of adventure. Every day, it’s something different—between sunbathing on Long Bay Beach, exploring the caverns of the Conch Bar Caves, and snorkeling the Grand Turk Wall—I can see myself being here for a long, long time.
It helps that I like my job and coworkers. Unfortunately, my position pays absolute crap. Like some days it feels like I’m paying them to let me work here, but our food and housing are covered, and I otherwise make do. There’s a real camaraderie among us, a One for all and all for one vibe, as evidenced by tonight’s bonfire.
I’ve scrounged around my dorm to find an unopened bottle of wine and two cans of beer. Someone else will surely bring more alcohol and hopefully some good snacks. I’m crossing my fingers for marshmallows, because what’s the point of sitting around a fire without them?