Girl off the Grid Read online

  “No. I loved kissing her. It was…” I pause, stopping to run my hand down my face and not wanting to say it out loud. “Pretty amazing.”

  “Then you need to let her know how you’re feeling. Apologize for leaving her standing there. And who knows what the future holds. You don’t have to make a lifetime commitment just because of one kiss.”

  “But I don’t want to hurt her,” I admit.

  “Sounds like you already have,” Dad’s voice booms.

  “Just make plans to see her again,” Mum offers.

  “I can’t promise that. She lives in New York. How would that even work?” I ask, desperately trying to figure it all out.

  “Sweetie, stop overthinking it. Tell her you like her and that you want to see her again. That’s all you can do.”

  I think about what she said, and I slowly calm down. She’s right. I just have to be open with Camille about our future.

  “Thanks. Sorry to bother you guys. I think I’m going to just sleep on it.”

  “You could never bother us. We’re glad you called,” my dad says. “And I hope to one day meet Camille. She sounds . . . special.”

  “That she is,” I agree without thinking. “Love you both.”

  “We love you, too,” Mum says as she hangs up.

  Camille

  When I get to my room, I grab my camera and start videoing myself.

  “He’s a total and complete ass. I hate him!” Tears flow down my face, which pisses me off further. “It was the perfect night. We dressed up, had champagne, and a wonderful dinner. And we danced. Who would have known a guy like him knew how to salsa dance? Not me, that’s for sure. Maybe that’s what it was. That damn dance is so sensual and so seductive. It’s not freaking fair. And then he photographs me. Tells me I look beautiful. And he meant it, I know he did.

  “Or at least I thought he did. It was probably just all part of his little game. He’s sadistic. That’s what he is. He has a big ego, and he wanted to see if he could get me to fall for him. Maybe that’s what he does, travels around the world taking pictures and seducing women. I should have known better than to fall for it.

  “Except, it never felt that way. He practically hated me at first, but over the week we got to know each other. Maybe we didn’t get to know each other, maybe he just told me what I wanted to hear so I’d be happy, take good pictures, and make him famous. Maybe he was using me for my photogenic-ness.” I wipe away my tears. “And for my body. Or for what he thinks my body looks like, so he could draw those sketches of me. Who does that? Draws you when you’re not paying attention. It’s no wonder he never wanted me to see his stupid sketch book, since he was drawing me naked! Except, I looked beautiful in his drawing. Sensuous. Sultry. The look in my eyes was something I know he saw. I was lusting after him a little, so fine. Whatever. It’s not like I wanted him to kiss me. Except I did. And when he did, it was like something inside me shifted. It was amazing. The most perfect first kiss in the history of first kisses.

  “And after that, he told me it was a mistake. Then turned and walked away. And I may never recover.”

  Click. I shut my recorder off then upload the video to the drop box just like I’ve done with all the others—and hope that I never have to watch any of them ever again.

  I’m going to write about this beautiful country, get a byline in Fashion Forward, and move on to bigger and better things.

  DAY EIGHT

  Camille

  I tossed and turned last night, not falling asleep until the early hours of the morning. When my alarm goes off, I’m startled awake. It’s already eight-thirty. Darn. I was hoping to wake up on my own so that I could watch the sunrise again.

  By. Myself.

  I touch my lips, remembering the way Adam kissed me. How the moment felt so raw and real.

  But he left me standing there.

  Lexi always says looking good is the best revenge, so I do my hair in a riot of curls, add a smoky eye to my makeup look, then dig through my suitcase for my favorite boyfriend jeans. They are also artfully ripped, which gives the illusion of not caring how I look. I put on a push-up bra that accentuates my nonexistent assets, choose a fitted pink V-neck, and add scads of noisy bangles, hot pink lipstick, gold metallic sandals, and matching gold aviators.

  I look fierce. “Rawr,” I say to my reflection. I try to clear my head of all things Adam and just focus on the trip. Today is my last day in Costa Rica, and I plan to enjoy it—for me. No distractions, no thoughts about a guy. I want to be fully present.

  I take a deep breath, put on a cheerful smile, and make my way outside.

  A soft breeze blows my hair. I’m going to miss the fresh air, the cool breeze, and the warm sun. I’m especially going to miss the people. Everyone has been so warm and welcoming.

  “Morning,” I say, upon seeing Jimmy, who runs up to me as I enter one of the hotel’s restaurants. This one has a breakfast buffet set up along the far wall and has towering windows that overlook the pools. Jimmy gives me a big smile and grabs onto my hand, practically dragging me to the table where the rest of his family is.

  “How are you guys? Did you have a good night?” I ask, taking a seat and helping myself to a cup of coffee from the pot on the table.

  “It was great,” Earl says, looking well-rested. “I had myself a good soak in the springs and then a delicious steak.”

  “Jimmy had a blast in the pool,” Vivianne says. “Then he napped with his grandpa while Floyd and I enjoyed the hot springs.”

  “I bet that was wonderful,” I say, flipping through the menu before deciding to order the buffet.

  “It was. And then we went to dinner. We saw there were a lot of people out dancing. Did you go dancing?” Vivianne asks pointedly as she takes a delicate bite of toast.

  “Yes, we did go dancing. And to my surprise, Adam knew how to salsa,” I tell her as Nancy sets down a plate brimming with food.

  “I knew he had it in him,” Earl says with a grin.

  I excuse myself, heading over to the buffet. I fill my plate with all the delicious foods I know I’m going to miss. I really need to find a banana pancake recipe. As I walk back to the table, I notice Adam joining the group.

  “Oh, good morning, Adam,” I say cheerfully, a smile plastered on my face.

  “Morning,” he says, eyeing me curiously.

  “Camille was just telling us about last night,” Vivianne says.

  “Oh,” is all Adam says before shoveling food into his mouth.

  After that, the Johnson family stops asking about how our night went.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Jimmy says, squeezing me.

  “I will miss you, too. I’m so jealous that you get to stay in Costa Rica for a few more days. Will you call and tell me about it?” I beg, suddenly feeling like I want to cry.

  “I will.” He grins, hugs me tightly, and then runs to his dad. We are all standing together in the lobby—me, Diego, and Adam are saying goodbye to the Johnson family and Manuel before we leave for the coast.

  “Oh, Vivianne. It was such a pleasure meeting you. If you’re ever in New York, you absolutely have to call me,” I say, giving her a hug.

  “And the same goes for you. If you’re ever near Texas, we would all love to see you again. Especially Jimmy,” she says, smiling down at her son. “And we can’t wait to see your photos from this trip.”

  “I hope you have a great rest of the trip, sweetie,” Earl says, giving my hand a quick squeeze. Then he pulls me in and whispers, “It will all work itself out.”

  I want to ask him what he’s referring to, but Adam comes over to shake his hand.

  “Are you ready?” Diego says with my bag in hand. I nod, feeling conflicted. I’m excited for our next adventure, but I have really come to enjoy the Johnson’s company. They’re such a lovely and warm family.

  “Bye,” I say, waving as we exit through the front of the hotel. As we get loaded up, Adam slides into the seat across from me.

  “It
’s so sad leaving them,” I say out loud.

  “It is. They are a great family,” Diego agrees as we leave the resort property. “But on the bright side, today we’ll be canoeing and tonight going on a turtle patrol. We have a long four-hour drive this morning before we’ll stop for lunch, so get settled in.”

  “What exactly do you do on a turtle patrol?” I ask.

  “You protect the turtles. The property we are going to focuses on education and protection, so they allow groups to come in to learn about sea turtles and their importance. You will go on a beach patrol with them. They search for turtle eggs, and if they find them, they carefully move them back to their property.”

  “Why do they move them?”

  “So they can protect them from poachers until they hatch.”

  “Why would people want to take their eggs?”

  “Don’t you eat chicken eggs?” he fires back. “The turtle shell, meat, and eggs can be sold. And if you don’t have a job . . .”

  “It’d be easy money,” Adam finishes. “And people need money to feed their own families. It’s the same for many species. You have to solve the country’s economic issues before you can save the animals.”

  “Yes. It can be tricky, but the organization has been trying to work with local communities to come up with new economic ventures to provide families with income in more sustainable ways.”

  “That’s good,” I add. “Where exactly is the patrol?”

  “We will be going to Tortuguero National Park. It’s located on the Caribbean coast, north of the Limón port, and north of where we went snorkeling.”

  “I can’t wait.” I smile, jotting down a few notes and then pulling out a book to read as Diego turns up the music he loves.

  “You’re very chipper today,” Adam says to me.

  “Why shouldn’t I be? I’m looking forward to what’s ahead.”

  He frowns and says, “I just thought . . .”

  “That I’d be all teary and sad because you ditched me last night? It was just a kiss, Adam,” I say defensively—almost sounding bitchy. “I’m not going to let it ruin the rest of my trip.”

  Adam

  I planned to apologize this morning, but then everyone was around. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it really bothers me that Camille is acting like nothing even happened between us.

  And what she said, about it being just a kiss and not letting it ruin the rest of her trip, hurt. I turn my attention to the window, feeling like a jerk. If I’m being honest, I wanted her to be a wreck this morning. I wanted her to feel like I do. That it wasn’t just a kiss. That it was something more.

  I think back to how she barely looked at me at breakfast. At the smile plastered on her face. Even though that smile never faltered, it didn’t seem real.

  I decide it’s better to talk about it now rather than later, so I move over into the seat next to her.

  “Hey,” I say, interrupting her reading. She turns her head, looking over at me, but she doesn’t close her book.

  “What’s up?” Her tone is happy, but her body is stiff.

  “Look, I’m sorry about how I just darted last night,” I say quietly. “I should have explained myself better.”

  “Oh, I think you explained yourself just fine,” she says, her tone icy.

  “No, I didn’t. I mucked it all up. I, um, really enjoyed last night with you. It was just the kiss I felt horrible about.” Her eyes get huge as saucers, and she drops her book without saving her page and crosses her arms tightly across her chest.

  “I see.”

  “No, Camille, you don’t. I really enjoyed kissing you.” Thankfully, her gaze softens. “I really like you, and that’s the problem. I know we both leave tomorrow, and I don’t want to start anything I can’t fully commit to.”

  She looks away from me, and I can tell she’s working up to something. Hopefully she understands and isn’t about to blow. When she faces me again, her jaw is tight and her mouth barely moves. She’s pissed. “I wasn’t expecting you to commit to anything. I just simply want to enjoy the rest of our trip. Let’s just have fun like we always do.”

  “I would like that.” I put on a happy face, but I’m feeling let down. Things still feel off. Is she mad because I said I couldn’t fully commit? Am I overanalyzing the situation? Was she not as affected by the kiss as I was? Even my mum agreed with Camille that it was just one kiss, but the problem is that one kiss felt anything but casual. It felt like a pivotal moment in my life, a game changer, at least for me.

  Camille looks at me expectantly, but I don’t know what else to say. So she reopens her book, finds the page she was on, and continues to read while I spend the next four hours watching her and wondering what I should do.

  Diego drives through a small town and parks in an open lot, right next to a river.

  “Are we there?” Camille asks, bringing her head up from her book and looking out the window.

  “Almost,” Diego says, shutting off the bus. “We can only get to the Sea Turtle Research Station by boat.”

  “Cool,” Camille says, which surprises me. Last time we were in a boat, she was nervous—but not this time. She’s raring to go.

  We get out of the bus and check out the river flowing next to us. It’s a blue-ish brown color, obviously made up of a fair amount of mud. A few boats bob and sway near the dock located on the right bank.

  “Here you go,” Diego says, handing Camille her bag, which she wrestles with all the way down the stairs.

  I would offer my help, but I highly doubt she would accept it.

  After tackling the stairs, we make our way out to a covered dock where Diego speaks to a man sitting in his boat.

  “This river is so different looking than anything we’ve seen. It’s muddy, not pristine and clear,” Camille states. I nod in agreement, realizing the grey and gloomy skies are mirroring my mood. “I wonder what the research station looks like.”

  “It will probably be beautiful because one side of the island faces the river and the other side the ocean. It’s just a sliver of land, really.” She smiles at me, and it’s like the sun just came out and instantly brightened my day.

  “I hope we get to see a sea turtle,” she says, leaning her bag against a bench on the dock.

  “Alright, let’s go,” Diego says, hopping in the boat. He takes our bags first and then helps us on. “Safety first.” He hands us both life vests. “You don’t have to put them on, just keep them close by in case the weight of Camille’s luggage sinks us,” he teases, causing Camille to break out in a wide smile.

  The boat is really more of a canoe that can seat six people—or four people and their bags. The man in the back uses an oar to move us down the river. Camille is sitting next to me on one bench with Diego just behind us. The river meanders a little, and we are making our way down it easily.

  Trees overhang close to the water, and you can see tree roots jutting out from the sides of the muddied banks.

  After about fifteen minutes, we pull up to another small wooden dock. The man gets the boat flush against the dock, ties it up, then lets us get out. Diego hands us our bags, and we drag them through light grass until we reach a red gravel path lined with bricks. Following it up from the dock, we find little bright blue buildings dotting the grounds, their roofs the same red as the gravel.

  Camille made it through the grass okay, but she’s struggling with the rocks.

  “Do you want me to help you with your bag?” I dare to ask.

  “No,” she snaps back. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine, Camille,” Diego says. “Here, let me help you.”

  She turns to him and smiles, giving up her bag. It’s like a knife to my gut.

  “Hello,” a woman says in greeting. She’s wearing a white t-shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and her light hair is tucked under a ball cap.

  “Susan,” Diego says. “How are you? It’s been a while.”

  “Yes, it has. We’re doing well here. Who
are our two new guests?”

  “Adam, Camille, this is Susan,” Diego says. “She’s the manager and chief researcher of the Sea Turtle Research Station here in Tortuguero.”

  “Hi,” Camille says, giving her a smile and a wave. I shake the woman’s hand politely.

  “Come on, I’ll show you around,” she says, leading us with authority.

  “This is the building that you will be staying in. Unfortunately, we are pretty full with another group, so we only have one room for you and Camille to share,” she says addressing me. “It has two twins, of course, but I doubt you will be getting much sleep with your turtle patrol being from ten to two. If this is a problem, we can arrange for Camille to move into a room with girls from another group. Just let me know. Diego,” she says, turning to him. “You will be upstairs bunking with one of our researchers, Micha.” She leads us to a two-story building. It has a large, open space filled with picnic tables and there is a chalkboard mounted on one wall. There are numerous doors as well as stairs leading up to the next level.

  “Here is your room.” She opens one of the doors, showing us a room with two twin beds each with netting surrounding them as well as a dresser with a small square window above it. Of all the places we’ve stayed, this is the most rustic.

  “Is there a bathroom?” Camille asks, looking around.

  “Not in here. They are communal. If you want to drop your bags and follow me, I’ll give you the full tour,” Susan says.

  Camille

  Adam and I do as we are told, leaving our bags in the room and following Susan and Diego back into the main room.

  “This is where you will hear a lecture about sea turtles tonight before you go out for patrol. Dinner will be at six and the lecture will start promptly at seven. Diego, since you are familiar with the place, you can go get settled,” she says, dismissing him. “You’re upstairs, second room on the left.”