For such cutesy, picture-perfect surroundings, the tension in the yacht we are sitting in is hefty. Thank goodness there is a brisk wind blowing through that keeps distracting Manon from glaring at me. Though that doesn't stop her.
She lets out a huff for what must be the tenth time in the minutes since the ship took off—since Desmond bragged to her and Chester that I confessed back to him.
"Oh come on. I didn't think you'd be this affected by it," Desmond faces her, hand wrapped around my waist.
A balloon hits him in the face and he winces, much to Manon's delight. She smiles, a little, but quickly removes the lovely curve before I can relax.
"Oh yeah? Try spending an entire morning under the scorching sun planning for your friend's confession just so she and her ugly man come in the afternoon and tell you she did it in her office."
"I didn't do it on purpose," I try defending myself.
