“That,” I motion behind us at the people still clustered in groups watching our backs. “They watch you and take pictures of you.”
“Oh, that,” he shrugs. “It’s been that way since my father was appointed PM. I guess it just comes with the territory.”
I glance over my shoulder. “Do they follow you?”
He looks pained. “Sometimes.”
But right now, they aren’t. They are still staring though, as we descend into a sand dune and out of their sight. I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s slightly unnerving to have so many people watching. I stoop down and slip my sandals off. Walking on the soft sand feels wonderful on my feet. Plus, it might exfoliate my rough soles. Bonus.
As I look around, I realize something. All of a sudden, we are alone. Truly alone. This beach is empty. It stretches out like a long, silvery ribbon and I turn to Dante.
“Where is everyone?” I ask curiously. “It’s beautiful here. Shouldn’t there be surfers out or something?”
“They don’t use this beach,” he tells me. “There are too many sharks out here by this coral reef. There are better surfing spots on the other side of the island.”
Sharks?
I freeze and Dante notices the instant fear on my face, put there as a result of seeing Jaws at a very young age. He picks up my hand and holds it, letting our adjoined hands dangle loosely between us. The jolting sensation of his skin against mine is an effective distraction.
“Don’t worry,” he assures me. “I’ll never let a shark get you. While you are here with me in Caberra, I give you my word that nothing bad will happen to you.”
Not two minutes after his promise, I step on a jellyfish.
Chapter Five
Within five minutes, my calf has swollen to five times its normal size. Apparently, I’m very allergic to jellyfish. But seriously, how would I have known this before? Being from Kansas, it has never been on my list of life experiences until now.
And now I look like I have some strange version of Elephantiasis.
And the most beautiful boy in the world is carrying me back to a bench.
And I am mortified. Utterly mortified.
Omigosh. Just kill me now.
Right now.
“Are you feeling alright?” Dante asks and his breathing is only slightly labored even though he’s been carrying me for five minutes already. I weigh 124 pounds. I am no feather. But he’s not even breaking a sweat. Impressive.
“I feel fine. Except for my leg. Why do you ask?”
But even as the words exit my mouth, I feel the waves of nausea coming on. I am instantly overwhelmed by sickness, by the uncontrollable need to vomit. Saliva pools in my mouth and I know it is coming.
“Put me down. Oh my gosh. Put me down,” I practically claw at his arms and he sets me quickly down. I drop onto my hands and knees and before I even know it, I am puking at his feet. Not on them, thankfully, but at them.
I retch until there’s nothing left in my belly. A horrible, bright fuchsia-colored vomit. Even when there is nothing left to vomit, I dry-heave over and over until I am resting limply on the sand.
And now I really want to die.
Right here.
Right now.
I can’t even bring myself to look up at Dante, but as my wits slowly return to me, I realize that he has been holding my hair back for me.
OhMyGosh.
JustLetMedie.
“I want to die,” I moan, not looking at him. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Dante asks incredulously. “Sorry for getting sick after you got stung by a jellyfish? Um, that’s a natural reaction. That’s why I asked how you were feeling. Don’t feel bad. I know that it hurts like a bitch. Come on,” he pulls me to my feet. “We really need to have a doctor look at you, just to make sure you’re okay. Are you having trouble breathing?”
Of course the second that he says that, I imagine my throat swelling closed and I clutch at it, sucking in air like a crazy person.
Dante’s gaze flickers over me in concern and he strokes my back lightly.
“Calm down,” he instructs softly. “Relax. I think you’re fine. Just relax.”
I realize that he’s right as I take deep, slow breaths. I can breathe. I am just overreacting as I often do. My throat is not swelling closed. I am not dying, after all.
I take four more shaking breaths and then nod.
“I’m fine,” I whisper.
Unless a person can die of embarrassment. And if that’s the case, then I’m at death’s door.
“This is so embarrassing,” I groan.
Dante grins.
“Hmm. This is probably Karma’s way of getting back at you for thinking that it would be hilarious if I lost my trousers in front of the PM of Britain. Just sayin’.”
I feel too sick to smile, but he’s funny. Really funny.
“And just for the record, I don’t think it’s hilarious that you’re having an allergic reaction to a jellyfish.”
He’s sweet, too.
Dante wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side so that I am leaning heavily on him as we walk. It’s a protective gesture that instantly makes my heart go pitty-pat.
But my leg still hurts and I still look like the Elephant Man’s long lost sister.
And I probably smell like vomit.
We slowly make our way back up the beach until we reach the quaint stretch of shops once again. People are still staring, even more so now that Dante is with such a freak. I try not to look anyone in the eye. Maybe if I can’t see them, they can’t see me either. The click of cameras, though, lets me know that I’m delusional. Not only can they see me, but they are documenting my swollen and bloated look for posterity’s sake. Fabulous.
And just when I think that this morning can’t get any worse, a fake voice so sugary-sweet that it could practically be used to bake cookies with floats down the sidewalk.
“Dante Giliberti! You were supposed to call me the instant that you were back in town.”
I know even before I turn to look that the owner of the voice is gorgeous. The level of confidence that it contains betrays that fact because only the beautiful sound so sure of themselves. Dante is grinning like he’s just won the lottery so I reluctantly turn to see who we are dealing with.