Chapter 103

The One In Greece

A R I E L L E

We’re finally in Greece. Mykonos, to be exact.

Getting here, was not much fun, I can admit that. The trip took something like thirteen hours during the flight, plus a one hour layover in Munich and another small plane ride once we landed in Greece to get to Mykonos. It was a lot to get here, which is why I was thankful we arrived late in the evening and I was able to unpack and go straight to bed.

In total, there’s seven of us—Chase, Zara, James, Jin, Nadia, Nate and myself.

To even get to the point of getting here, it took quite a bit of effort. To start with, it was hard as fuck to not spill the beans to Chase. He knew something was up, which meant that I had to avoid him right up until we were leaving for the airport. Lucky for me, Zara handled everything else, so I literally just had to keep the secret from him.

I had to set up care for Storm while we’re gone. I was going to ask Hayes to do it, since he’s the only one I know that isn’t coming with us, but in all honesty, I’m still really peeved with him. When he told me all about the plan he’d concocted, I had figured out myself that he fabricated shit along the way. Everything he had shown me about Vex was fake—he’d made it all up—and that has made me furious with him.

I still can’t be sure if Nate took part in that, but I know I need to ask him. I need that answer if I’m to understand everything that happened. If I want to move past this and forgive him, I want to be able to comprehend what his mindset was going through this. Did he question how this could affect me? What did he go through during this? Could Hayes have come up with a plan that involved telling me? These are the questions I want to know and have to ask.

But, for now, I’m getting along fine with Nate.

When it all initially happened, I think it was simply too much tossed at me at once. I was still dealing with the fact that Nate had risen from the dead after six months, never mind that I now have a half-brother, my mother is dead, my cat was gifted to me by Nate, and the rest of it.

I was super fucking angry for the first week, but the anger faded and became curiosity and longing. By the time Halloween swung around, it’d been a couple weeks, and my emotions had fizzled substantially.

I can admit, I caved to him. Kissing him reminded me of the connection we’ve always had. Of the back and forth flirting and playfulness we’ve always had. So I forgot it all for a couple hours, fucking sue me.

It felt so fucking good to be in his arms again. To be touched by him. Kissed by him. It’s all I’ve wanted for more than half a year.

I don’t want to hold on to any anger, especially not towards him. This last half a year has been exhausting for everyone, not only me. I can’t help but think that considering Nate refuses to tell me what faking his death was like for him, I don’t think it was enjoyable in any sense.

He’s always done this thing for me, where he won’t tell me something bad or negative if he feels like it isn’t necessary. As if it’ll only cause me more harm than good. It’s happened a couple times since I’ve known him. He refuses to be a rat, and that’s what he’s doing right now.

I’d like to know what this was like for him, of course. I think it’d help me understand his mindset going into it, his intentions, his thought process, and knowing what he’s went through will allow me to see the entire thing through his eyes. I think I need that piece of information to fully move on in a healthy way and forgive him. I’m just not sure if he’ll ever give it to me.

I don’t think he realizes, but I know him extremely well. He’s being very flirty with me—we’re acting like when we first met—and I’m not complaining, but I can see that he’s hiding shit from me.

Let me tell you, too, it was awkward as fuck to have to explain to all of my friends what happened with Nate. I had to before Halloween, otherwise they literally would’ve thought he’d risen from the dead. That was like reliving all the shit over again, but it got easier with each person until it became like nothing.

At least they all seemed to understand.

I just fucking hated having to explain my entire backstory—my terrible history—with Vivien and Ezra. It was the only way I could explain it and it make sense.

When we arrived at the rental house in Mykonos last night, Zara had already picked out the rooming. Which means that—though I ended up in a beautiful room with a large bed overlooking the pool—I have to share a bathroom. A Jack and Jill bathroom. In other words, there’s a full-sized washroom attached to my room, that has a second door on the opposing side that leads to a different guest bedroom.

Nate ‘s.

So, this morning, when I was getting ready to go out on the yacht in the bathroom I share with Nate, he had his door wide open and could watch me from the confines of his room.

It also means that he has easy access to my room, hidden from the publicity of the hallway. Also that, whenever he’s in there, I have to go to another washroom in the house that’s available. I’m not sure how I feel about it at this particular moment, but I’m not about to pitch a fit over it either.

We’re on the yacht now and though Nate and I haven’t spoken a ton since we left Miami—mostly small chat here and there, simply because we haven’t had the time or energy to devote to any meaningful conversation—the tension is thick between us. But it always is. The chemistry is nearly suffocating.

Although, I do plan to have a few conversations with him about everything while we’re on this trip.

I’m wearing a cute matching outfit—it’s a pink, floral skirt and crop top. The top is a sort of heart-shaped bandeau with this decorative ball fringe and small, cute puffy sleeves. The short skirt is high waisted, sitting maybe two inches below my crop top, that has the same ball fringe along the bottom of each layer.

Nate hasn’t been able to take his eyes off me ever since he saw what I’m wearing. I’d worn it partially with him in mind, but I’ve also brought a lot of cute, light, flowy outfits to Greece. I was going for a vibe—something rather different than I normally wear, considering most of my wardrobe consists of denim, black, and leather.

I carry my champagne glass and head to the front of the boat, wanting to feel the breeze on my skin and admire the view without any sort of restrictions. We’ve all been seated at the back since stepping on and I want to be at the bow, where the action is.

Carefully—so I don’t spill my drink—I make my way to the front and seat myself on these cushions that look to be some sort of daybed. I admire the warmth on my skin, extending my legs out in front of me, crossing my ankles.