nā hōkū - stars

When Emerson's flutter eyes open, the sun is barely peaking up over the water.

Squinting against the rising light, he sits up and pats his shorts for his phone. Checking the time, he releases a groan. 6:12am.

It's much earlier than he would typically wake up and, with the brightness of the morning, it seems impossible to go back to sleep. Especially after spotting a few early bird fisherman standing along the coast.

After his conversation with Rosalind, Emerson felt uncomfortable and not up to much socializing so he grabbed a couple of blankets from the rental car and attempted to sleep. It took him a while but he eventually dozed off.

Sadly, everyone else seems to be asleep. His eyes zero in on Claire with her face stuffed into her jacket, using it as a pillow, as she snores softly. Laughing lightly, he shakes his head and begins to stand, planning to call an Uber just as Alex did last night to get back to the room.

"Emerson?" Gwen squints at him, watching as he collects his belongings.

Turning at the sound of her voice, Emerson laughs at her frizzy hair and tired eyes. "I think I'm going to head out." He informs her, "Everyone seems to be fast asleep and I am obviously not. Plus I'm starving and I'm tired of marshmallows." He smiles slightly.

Gwen shakes her head in response before rolling her eyes grumpily and laying her head back down on her own makeshift pillow which happens to be Isaac's stomach. He flinches in a sleep a little but remains otherwise unbothered.

The Uber ride back to the hotel is awkward for a number of reasons. For one, his driver is a bitter old woman who goes against her own "no smoking in car" policy and smokes about three cigarettes before pulling up to the large building. Another thing is the awful music she plays for the entirety of the ride which must be either her own or by someone she knows because Emerson can't even pinpoint the style, let alone the artist.

The final problem with Cheryl is her pushy attitude when it comes to receiving her good review and tip. Yeah...she wanted a tip for nearly killing Emerson's lunges with all of that second hand smoking and her awful choice of music. He politely refused, bid her ado, and practically speed walked up to his room.

He shot Alex a text message while being transported here but he never replied so Emerson assumes he is still asleep. His fist knocking on the hard wood of the hotel room is a clear indication that his suspicions are correct.

"Alex." He hollers through the door, looking warily around him, the hall clear of guests and employees. Knuckles hitting the hard surface once again, Emerson releases a groan. "Alex!" He yells, heat building in his cheeks just as the elevator opens.

"You've got to be kidding me." He mumbles lowly, hitting his forehead once against the door as Rosalind steps out of the elevator, "What are you doing here?" He asks her, blinking slowly and tiredly, feeling tired and impatient.

Disregarding his question, Rosalind knocks her own small fist against the door. "Alex?" She calls softly through the door, her thin brows furrowed in frustration. Emerson tries to push away the twisting sensation in his chest as she blatantly ignores him.

Lips pressed together in complete annoyance, he watches the door swing open, Alex's smirk widens welcomingly as his brown eyes take in Rosalind's tall stature and long blonde locks, looking slightly ruffled from sleeping on the sandy hard ground all night. Alex obviously doesn't notice her disheveled appearance.

Emerson presses his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose with a harsh cringe as he watches his friend practically salivate in the doorway. "Oh so you open the door for her but not me?" He mumbles, pushing past the both of them.

Alex doesn't reply to him but instead focuses on the girl standing out in the hallway. "Hey, Rosie." He smiles smugly.

"Alex, I thought you had an emergency? Everyone is downstairs getting breakfast and I'm too hungry to participate in your dramatics." Emerson's ears heighten curiously  to catch Rosalind's mumbling tone.

"I do have an emergency." Alex responds with a light voice, "I need someone to accompany me to breakfast."

"Well Emerson just got here so you're in luck." She answers lowly.

"Emerson's not exactly what I had in mind." Alex speaks casually, making Emerson sigh. His friend's problem is this: he thinks with his hormones, not his head. It gets him into more trouble than anyone could possibly realize.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're insinuating." Rosalind's cool tone perks Emerson's eyebrows upwards, feeling slightly impressed by her ability to avoid any sort of uncomfortable conversation.

"Right..." Alex sighs, "Emerson and I will meet you downstairs in a few minutes."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" She hides her relieved smile.

"No, not at the moment." Winking, his shuts the door. As soon as it clicks into place, a frown is set upon his handsome face.

Emerson does his best to hold back his amusement as he lays on his back atop the soft bed, the white duvet bunched at the bottom from Alex's wild sleeping habits. "That went well. When's the second date?" He teases, earning a glare.

"Laugh all you want, Baldwin. Before our two weeks is up, I'll have Rosalind in a puddle at my feet." He chuckles.

"She's a girl, not something that can be washed down the drain." Emerson rolls his bright blue eyes.

"I know, I'm only kidding." Alex snorts before pausing and giving him an odd look, "You seem a little ticked."

"Do I?" Emerson sits up, running a hand through his unkept hair. Slowly standing, he leans over and begins searching his suitcase for the day's set of clothes, his back turned to his suspicious friend.

"Remember that I have dibs, Em."

"Don't call me that." Emerson sighs, "I know you have dibs and I really don't need to be reminded of it because it's completely unnecessary. Rosalind is just a tour guide to me and nothing else. Not a love interest, not even a friend. After the two weeks are up, I'll never see her again. She means nothing to me. Happy?"

There's a pause in the room, the atmosphere shifting. He stands straight, turning around with furrowed brows. "Alex, I thought you'd be a little more - " His voice stops suddenly and the words drift off, completely forgotten.

Gwen stands there with her hands on her hands on her hips, her full lips pursed in a very unhappy manner. His eyes slide reluctantly to Claire's disappointed gaze as she stands behind her friend meekly. Dread fills his gut when he sees Rosalind's stubborn frown, her hazel eyes hard and determined. As if she's refusing to allow his words to effect her in any way.

"Not exactly?" Alex scratches the back of his head. Emerson's eyes narrow at him angrily, silently asking why in the world he didn't warn him of their arrival.

"I thought you were getting breakfast." He says dumbly, choosing to focus on the least intimidating of the group: Isaac. Who stands with a slightly amused smile, his girlfriend elbowing him in the stomach.

"We were until we weren't." Isaac shrugs, seeming unaffected by the awkward heavy hue of discomfort in the hotel room.

"That's helpful." Emerson nods sarcastically.

After another short pause, Rosalind finally clears her throat and steps forward, placing a professional expression upon her face, "I have paddle boarding and a short hike planned for today if that sounds fun to everyone?"

"That sounds great." Gwen smirks, looking directly at Emerson with a triumphant smile, knowing very well that both of these things sound horribly tragic to him at any given moment in time.

"I agree." Alex grins, seeming perfectly happy and fine with Emerson's current humiliation and guilt. Emerson does his best not to fuel any bitterness towards the guy.

"Yeah, sure." Emerson mumbles, turning back around to snatch up his clothes and make a beeline for the bathroom, avoiding eyes as they begin to discuss a new topic. His shoulder brushes the tour guide's swiftly but she doesn't look over or react as he passes awkwardly.

Closing the door, he releases a sigh, his tense muscles relaxing. It's not that he believes what he said was totally untrue but what's really making him feel sucky is the fact that Rosalind heard him say it. Maybe that means he shouldn't have ever said it in the first place but he doesn't even particularly think his words were offensive.

It was all the simple truth. He and Rosalind aren't friends, they've only just met. He will most likely never see her again after the two weeks are up so that's yet another blunt fact. Everything his said was logistically correct.

So why does he feel so guilty?

  ⅼ ❝ it's not passion and lust that fuels love at all but the drive to remain committed. the loyalty and the feeling of knowing you've made your choice and you're sticking with it no matter what. ❞ ⅼ

Once again sitting upon a blanket he brought himself and his book in hand, Emerson watches blankly as his friends paddle standing up uneasily as they laugh with one another, occasionally pushing each other off and fighting to stay balanced. Claire is the only one who remains on her knees, still getting the hang of it. Emerson smiles, knowing she's far more cautious than anyone else out there.

The only person not paddle boarding with everyone else is the girl standing before the waves, her arms wrapped around herself as she watches them carefully.

Emerson watches her, taking in the way the wind brushes her long blonde hair behind her back, her blue ball cap fixed on her head. He's now realizing how rare it is to see her without it. An uncomfortable twist occurs inside him as he looks at her, wondering if what he said had really had as little effect on her as she displays.

As if feeling eyes on her, she twists in his direction. He freezes when her eyes lock onto his. A look of slight surprise crosses her slightly round face as a wave of panic washes over him. He thinks about looking away quickly before realizing that would just make him look more pathetic.

Confusion swirls in his mind when she simply gives him a soft and forgiving smile before turning back to fact the water, her eyes watching his friends intently.

Looking in her direction for a moment more, Emerson blinks the wind away that comes off of the water, squinting as sand swirls slightly. He turns the page of his book before hesitating and looking back to finish the sentence that was interrupted by his peeked curiosity.

After a few minutes, he feels more relaxed and has finally begun to enjoy the atmosphere of the beach in all its salty glory. He begins to think that today might not be so bad after all when a pair of bare feet with white painted toenails stops at the edge of his blanket.

"Emerson?"

He looks up, Rosalind looking down at him calmly all while his heart begins to speed up, expecting some sort of confrontation. "Yes?" He clears his throat, preparing.

She bites her lower lip lightly before the corner of her lips perk up, "You're not paddle boarding?"

He almost laughs at the question simply because the answer seems all too obvious to him. "No, I'm not. I'm not a huge fan of water."

"Well that'll become a bit detrimental to your health." She cracks a subtle joke but when he doesn't laugh her smile falters a bit, "Anyway...yeah I kind of figured since you didn't surf the other day. But I think you'd really enjoy paddle boarding considering, if you do it right, you don't even have to be submerged."

He pauses, his eyes narrowing in slight suspicion. "I don't like being anywhere near the water." His voice is flat, feeling nervousness churn inside of him.

Rosalind pauses, her head cocking to the side curiously. "Do you mind if I ask why?"

A lump forms in his throat, "Kind of." He tries to shrug as nonchalantly as possibly.

Nodding, she smiles once again. "Okay. Well, if you change your mind, we could go out together? I brought a two person board just in case you felt like conquering that fear."

"I'm not afraid." He defends with a lie.

She raises a brow, "Well then what are you waiting for?"

Emerson's jaw ticks in annoyance, knowing very well that this reaction is sparked by the very thing he really is afraid of: the truth. "I just don't want to, alright? Let it go."

She doesn't seem taken aback by his sudden attitude. Instead determination is lit in the furnace or her mind, her fact changing to a stern wall. "I will let it go if you tell me why your fear of water gives you the right to act like a complete douche."

"Seriously?" He scoffs, squinting up at her against the bright sun, her nostrils flaring slightly, "Look, I'm sorry about what I said but it was the truth. Nothing about that should be hurtful."

Rosalind's hazel eyes roll with impatience, "I don't care that you don't think we're best friends, Emerson. Frolicking in a field of flowers and playing patty-cake with you isn't exactly in my job description. Showing you a good time and pushing you to have some adventure? That's my job. But, so far, all you've done is go on a short hike and read a book on the sidelines while your friends live out the fun." She finishes with a sad expression, "I'm sorry that I'm being pushy but it makes me feel oddly sad to watch you sit in self pity and fear while you sit idly."

"You finished yet?" He deadpans, something switching inside of him. Something that feels like pain and terror mashed into one giant emotion. His eyes are now downcast to the sand.

Rosalind watches him for a moment before sighing in defeat. "Yeah." She says lowly, turning on her heel, "I'm done."