Page 21 of Forever is the Sweetest Con
The man entering on the four-wheeler is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen anywhere, ever, period. He’s so good-looking that, instead of whooping and hollering like we had for the other guys, we all just stand there, slack jawed.
This guy is big, in a way that makes the quad look like a toy. Big arms, broad chest, thick thighs, huge smile. He has icy blue eyes that pop dramatically against his dark brown skin, which glows like he’s lit from within. He’s grooving on the quad, shimmying his shoulders and twisting his hips, and honestly, I’m a bit turned on. He is perfection.
He lopes toward Natasha and plants a kiss on her cheek. Her rigid TV presenter façade slips as she takes him in. “Oh, my heart,” she says, clutching her chest. “Damian, I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. You’re just going to have to come home with me.”
“You’ll have to fight me, first!” calls Harmony. The gorgeous man winks at her and she smiles so hard a vein pops in her forehead. Electricity crackles between them.
“I’m Damian,” he says, unprompted. “I’m twenty-eight, from Dallas. I retired from the NFL last year, and now I’m building a not-for-profit that provides healthy lunches to school kids in low-income areas.”
“Good lord, he’s a philanthropist, too!” Natasha says, fanning herself. “Now, Damian, you have five beautiful women in front of you, but has anyone in particular caught your eye?”
Damian nods at Harmony. “What’s good, queen?” he drawls, and the cheering reaches a fever pitch.
“Lucky girl, Harmony!” Natasha says, clapping with maybe a little less enthusiasm than she did for the others. “Hmm, do I hear another guy rolling in?”
Another quad rumbles into view, driven by a short, muscular guy with a buzz cut and dimples in both of his cheeks. He’s wearing a tangle of gold chains around his neck and has a blurry tattoo of the Virgin Mary on his bicep. There’s nothing unattractive about him, objectively, but Damian is a hard act to follow. He hops off the quad and ambles over, kissing each of us on the hand. It’s so cringey I want to burst into flames.
“Well, aren’t you the charmer?” Natasha says as he kisses her hand. “Giovanni, welcome! Tell us about yourself.”
“I’m Giovanni, I’m twenty-two, and I’m a mechanic’s apprentice. I’m your typical Italian Jersey boy, y’know what I’m saying? I’m all about family and food, and I’m looking for a girl who can provide both.”
Ah, casual misogyny, lovely.
“Any girl would be lucky to do it, am I right, ladies?” We all clap, obligingly. “Giovanni, tell me, is there a girl here that you could see yourself with?”
“Mmm,” he says, looking us all over. “I’d take any one of them, but I gotta say, I like the look of this one right here,” he says, pointing to Valeria. “Qué pasa, mami? You Puerto Rican?”
“Cuban.” Valeria bats her long eyelashes.
“Sweet,” Giovanni says, with a wolfish grin.
“Oh, do you hear what I hear?” Natasha cups her hand to her ear, leaning toward the beach path. “Here comes our last male camper! Everyone, let’s hear a big welcome for Keiji!”
At first, I only notice that he’s an improvement from Giovanni. This guy is tall and tanned, with a welcome absence of gold jewelry. And then I see his face, and I know it—the full lips, the chiseled jaw, the thick dark eyebrows.
Oh god. It’s the Flip-Flop guy from the plane.
My first instinct is to hide. He’ll know I’m a bullshitter, and he couldruin everything for me if he wanted to. But I have no choice but to clap and cheer with the rest of the girls.
“Keiji, welcome! Tell us a bit about yourself.”
“It’s really nice to meet you all,” he says, too quickly. He pauses to take a deep breath. “My name is Keiji,” he says, this time more slowly. “It’s Japanese—my mom is Japanese—but you can call me Kei, like the letter ‘K.’ I’m a singer-songwriter from Vancouver.”
This elicits some impressed noises from the girls, but they don’t know he wears flip-flops on airplanes.
“And what do you think of these gorgeous girls? Is there anyone who you’re especially interested in getting to know?”
He scans the group, and when he lands on me, he stops. Our eyes meet.
I know you, his seem to say.
Please don’t expose me, mine reply. A little smile plays on his lips.
“They’re all beautiful,” he says, looking at me. I feel a flush rise up my neck. “But I think your red hair is lovely,” he says, turning his gaze to Trina. “And there’s something about you,” he says to me with a grin. “You seem like a really genuine person.”
He’s messing with me, but I have to act flattered, so I tilt my head and do a cutesy pout.
“I guess we’ll find out! Now,” says Natasha, with a single clap. “Here’s how it’s all going to work.” Her tone has become businesslike. “Over the next five days, you will all have the chance to bunk with one another, so if there’s someone you have your eye on, you’ll definitely get to spend some time with them.” She pauses, and we all cheer, but like everything else, my enthusiasm is fake. I don’t want to get to know anyone but Isa—he’s the Fuckboy to my Girl Next Door—and the sooner I start developing that relationship, the better.
