Somehow, I had taken the wheel from the driver and driven myself straight to Jake—a three-hour trip to the resort where he was currently hiding from his responsibilities. That will be what I will call it, how does anyone have so much energy? He was just at the party.
I barely slammed the car door shut before calling out, "What the hell is this?"
Jake glanced up, completely unbothered, a glass of something dark in his hand. He was shirtless, his tan skin catching the golden hues of the resort's ambient lighting.
"What do you mean?" he asked, strolling toward me like he had all the time in the world.
I gestured around at the overly artistic, picture-perfect environment—the infinity pool, the warm glow of expensive lanterns, the subtle scent of something citrusy in the air. "You were just at the party, and now you're here?"
"I left earlier."
"For this?"
"That's right."
