I had one rule on this trip: no stress, no spreadsheets, and no falling for charming strangers with ridiculous smiles. Especially the older men.
I was doing fine on the first two. The third... well, the universe had other plans.
The sun was dipping low over the Costa Rican coast, casting golden light across the pool. I was halfway through my meal when he appeared.
Tall, tanned, and cocky in a way that probably made half the resort staff roll their eyes, Jace strolled up to the pool in board shorts and a shirt that screamed, "I didn’t pack this — my friend dared me."
He proceeded to sit on the pool bench and almost fell. I chuckled.
He turned. “You laughing at me, or do you find joy in others' mishap?
I didn’t miss a beat. “I’m laughing at you. And your shirt.”
I smirked, sitting up. “You’re about three buttons away from a citation for public fruit display.”
“I’ve been known to break a few rules,” Jace said with a grin. “You here alone, how old are you?”
“Bold question. I could be a local, scouting for bad-shirted tourists to rob.”
“If you are,” he said, sipping his drink, “I’d still let you take my wallet. You’ve already stolen my dignity.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now. “I’m here with friends, but like vibing alone. I’m twenty-one.”
“I see, young and beautiful you are.”
“I’m Jace. Pleasure to meet the woman who’s brave enough to mock me.”
We both shook hands
“To unexpected company,” he said.
“To tragic fashion choices,” I countered.
We laughed. And as the sun melted behind the waves, the flirtation began — light, teasing, effortless. Neither of us knew how the night would end.
I had to admit: Jace was fun. He was the kind of guy who made me laugh so much I forgot about the weight of my past few stressful months. And there was something magnetic about the way he carried himself — easy confidence, a crooked grin, and eyes that made me feel like he was already plotting our next conversation.
As the night went on, we found ourselves inching closer. The pool lights shimmered, casting ripples across our faces. The air smelled like salt and tropical flowers, and a gentle breeze ruffled our hair. We talked about everything and nothing, and somehow, every conversation felt like a competition to see who could make the other laugh the hardest.
“You think you can out-swim me?” Jace asked, nudging me as we both prepared to dive into the pool. “Please,” I scoffed, eyeing the pool with a mischievous glint. “I’ve been doing swimming race with my friends all my life. So, you better warm-up.”
“Oh, we’re getting competitive now?” He raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”
“You should be,” I said, tossing my hair back with a playful smirk. “I’m all about winning. And I have a very high tolerance for embarrassment.”
What I really wanted to do was to race my way into his bed.
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Synthia Cooper
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