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decided to take a dip in the pool. But on my way I stopped in my tracks. There, perched on the diving board, was a hot, muscular, shirtless (did I mention hot?) guy. He had sinewy arms and a six-pack stomach. He looked like he was eighteen or nineteen, with curly brown hair, a tanned chest, and one of those surfer-style seashell necklaces.
    As I gawked, he turned around, stretched his arms over his head, and did a backward dive. When he didn’t come up for several seconds, I panicked that he’d smacked his head on the bottom of the pool. Great. Just when I encountered the man of my dreams, he had to go unconscious on me.
    I was trying to recall the specifics of that CPR unit from health class when he popped up on the other side. Here was my chance! I sucked in my gut and strutted past the pool, hoping he’d check me out. Once I was several strides away, I peeked over my shoulder, thinking how we could make long, meaningful eye contact, the start of our love affair.
    But no. He was swimming underwater, oblivious.
    Even so, I spent the next day and a half scheming about how I could talk to him. The biggest thing working for me was that, other than Skye (who wasn’t talking to anyone), there were no other girls at Paradise.
    Finally, on Tuesday, I saw him again. I was walking over to the grill to order nachos and I glanced toward the parking lot. There he was, opening the passenger door of a white car. A middle-aged woman was inthe driver’s seat, probably his mom. Right before he climbed in, he stretched his arms over his head (oh my god), which made his shirt lift up (oh my god), and, with his shorts riding low (oh my god), I got a glimpse of an amazing V-cut leading down to his you-know-where (total visual orgasm).
    I veered into the parking lot and began racing through the rows of shiny rental cars. It’s almost like a force beyond my control was pulling me toward him. But just as I approached, he got into the car, slammed the door, and they sped off.

seven
    Late that night, I was wide awake as usual. My mom, Luce, and I went to a phosphorescent bay earlier in the evening. It was a half-hour drive from here. Once it got dark, we rode out on a boat to see sparkling plankton. My mom spent the whole time gushing about how amazing it is and we never would have been able to do this on our own and thank you, Luce, for bringing us along. The phosphorescent stuff was amazing, but I was relieved Skye wasn’t here to witness my mom’s big display. Just as we were leaving for the bay, Skye bailed. She’d announced that she was ordering room service and going to bed early. For the whole drive Luce talked about Skye’s draining auditions, but I kept remembering what she said to me, about how she’s going through some stuff.
    When we got back to the room, Skye was asleep. I read the last seventy pages of The Bridges of Madison County in one hungry gulp. It’s a love story between two middle-aged people that doesn’t sound high on the sexy scale. But believe me, it was. Especially this one line that the guy, Robert, says to the woman, Francesca. It’s the last night they’re spending together and they’ve pretty much realized they’re going to have to go their separate ways after this. They’re laying in bed and he whispers, “In a universe of ambiguity, this kind of certainty comes only once, and never again, no matter how many lifetimes you live.” I wrote that in my everything book, and then cried into my pillow for five minutes straight.
    Around eleven thirty, I crawled out of bed. Other nights here, when I couldn’t sleep, I walked around the resort or chatted online with Ellie and Leora. Tonight, though, I wasn’t in a wandering mood. All I could think about was Robert and Francesca and whether that certainty will ever come my way (and, if so, please give me the time, date, and location). I needed something to calm me down. Maybe a soak in the hot tub. It was late, after all. No one around to see me in my