Jason's request rattled through me as we made our way back to Chelsea. I couldn't look her in the eye, not even as she glared at me while she announced she had our dinner sent up to our room because someone decided she wanted to go for a late-night stroll along the beach instead.

We let her lead us back to our room, Jason and I trailing behind with our hands still interlocked. I didn't argue. At the moment, I would have rathered the privacy of our rooms to see what that wet bar had to offer.

Especially with what Jason wanted me to do.

Ask her about Tony Marino.

Tony Marino had been merely a crush in my younger years, becoming no less than an infatuation as I grew older until everything culminated at Chelsea's graduation party. But ever since graduation, I hadn't heard from him, which doesn't surprise me after everything that happened with me and Jason. Or maybe whatever happened meant more to me than it did to him, and my leaving was just an excuse for him to never have to acknowledge me again afterward.

But I hadn't thought of Tony Marino in years. Not until he made his appearance in my dream on the flight, and now Jason urged me to ask about him again. To Chelsea, of all people.

Something in my chest knotted tight and I instinctively held Jason's hand tighter for no other reason than the support of knowing he was still next to me. How did I survive all those years without him, when we had been so much for each other for so long?

The door to the room clicked open ahead of us, Chelsea already inside and leaving it open for us to follow. I hated feeling like she was angry with me, first and foremost, while the anxiety of having a conversation that even I didn't know the outcome of tightened that panic within me.

"C'mon," Jason urged. "I promise I'm not feeding you to the lioness."

I looked up at him, trying to find some semblance of reassurance in his gaze. He watched me, neutral as if trying hard to mask whatever he truly felt underneath.

Fine. I could do this. This was Chelsea we were talking about. So why did I have such a bad feeling about it?

My friend in question was already pulling bottles out of the wet bar, lining them up on the kitchenette's counter as walked in.

"Pick your poison," she said by way of greeting as she began grabbing glasses and filling them with ice from a nearby bucket.

"The one downside of the Caribbean is the lack of beer options," Jason observed as he finally released my hand, passing by the kitchenette to take a seat on the couch.

"But there's plenty of rum," Chelsea countered, holding up two different bottles of the liquor, one dark brown and one crystal clear. "So drink up."

Jason rolled his eyes but didn't argue as she turned back to the lineup, while I remained standing by our now closed and locked room door watching the exchange. Silently, Chelsea poured three identical drinks combining rum and pineapple juice in an almost expert fashion before she handed one to me.

I took it tentatively, but she didn't linger as she picked up the other two and walked over to Jason, handing him his before she took her seat on the chaise across from him. Which left me the option of sitting next to Jason on the couch, taking up one of the armchairs between them, or remaining where I was standing. Opting to be comfortable while initiating an otherwise uncomfortable conversation, I perched on the edge of the chair with my drink between my hands.

She waited until we all took a sip from our respective glasses before breaking the silence.

"So, are either of you going to let me know what the hell happened at dinner?"

The dinner which, I had realized, still hadn't arrived from the restaurant. My stomach rumbled as if in protest, but I knew I had no one to blame but myself. If I didn't eat something soon, however, this drink was going to be far more effective than it needed to be.

But maybe that's what I was going to need to have this conversation.

I was mid-sip when Jason spoke. "Sam and I were catching up on lost time. Things got... heated. And not in the good way. We've smoothed it over since."

"So that's what you're calling it, whatever you were doing on the beach?"

"We could have done more, but you interrupted." He smirked at her responding glare.

I rolled my glass between my palms as I knew they both watched me. Jason expectantly, Chelsea looking for more information. Blinking away the already potent buzz of the rum, I raised my gaze to meet Chelsea's.

"What do you remember about Tony Marino?"

I ignored Jason's slight nod out of the corner of my eye as I kept eye contact with Chelsea. I don't know what I expected her to do at the mention of the name. Jason made it seem like some foreboding omen, but Chelsea only gave me a slight, almost teasing smile. "You would be the best one to answer that question, don't you think?"

"I... I don't know." I tried my best to untangle these cryptic half-answers both of them have been giving me lately.

"To be honest, I practically forgot about him until you started moaning his name on the plane ride."

"I was not moaning his name," I challenged. "He was just... in my dream."

"Must have been a good dream," Chelsea mused, but Jason shot a silencing glare in her direction.

"No, this was not that kind of dream," I said, shaking my head.

"What kind of dream was it then?" Jason asked, leaning forward on the couch.

I looked between the two of them, both watching me now. I could only shrug. "I was at Chelsea's house— the graduation party." I scoffed. "I hadn't thought about it in years, I have no idea why I'm dreaming about it now..."

Jason looked away, down to his glass, and now it was Chelsea who watched me expectantly. "Any juicy details?"

Giving her a scowl, I opted to take a long sip of my drink, still trying to sort through the memories myself. "No, at least not in the dream. Not that I can remember anyway."

A glance passed between Jason and Chelsea, something unspoken which I can only assume was the reason for Jay to have me ask Chelsea about Tony.

"Tony was... an annoyance," Chelsea finally conceded. "I don't know why he always seemed to be everywhere we were, but he was like a lost puppy that would never find his way home without someone pulling the leash. How he got to be so popular with, like, every clique in the school, I have no idea. Maybe they all felt bad for him— I don't know."

"But he was at your party," I said carefully.

"What do you remember about that party?" Jason cut in to ask me, slowly as if picking his words.

He caught my attention in that tone of voice, and I settled back into the chair, ignoring the pounding inside of my brain as I tried to sift through the hazy memories from five years ago.

"It was at Chelsea's parents because they insisted they host, preferring to have fifty rambunctious seniors tearing their house apart rather than taking the chance that any one of them could get behind the wheel and lose it all in an instant." I looked over to Chelsea. "I remember the conversations we used to have with them, insisting that you'd never think about getting in a car drunk, or with anyone else who was drinking, and their response was always the same."

"It's not you, it's everyone else," she and I said in unison.

"So we all went to the party the night after graduation," I said with another shrug. "It was supposed to be the last time we were all going to be able to hang out together, so we were all really looking forward to it."

"Do you remember what you did at the party?" Jason asked, his tone honing a razor's edge.

"Other than drink and dance?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood. He wasn't amused and I let out a sigh. "I remember... being really excited. About a lot of things. About high school finally being over, about..."

About finally garnering the courage to find the time along with Tony Marino. At Chelsea's urging, I asked him to the party. I never told Jason— he hated him for as long as we knew him. So when he arrived, he had my full undivided attention, and Jason...

"What else were you excited about?" Jason asked.

Tony was at that party because of me. Not Chelsea.

So by bringing him up, was he trying to drive a wedge further between us? Divide use for some twisted reason as if we were in high school again and such things mattered?

It would make sense as to why he wanted me to bring him up, with everything else that had been going on.

I wasn't going to play into the games. I was already tired of them.

"C'mon, it was five years ago. You can't expect me to remember every single detail from one night, can you?"

I knew I said the wrong words. I saw the pain flash across Jason's face as he stood. "I remember everything. Every minute. And I haven't forgotten every day since."

Jason stormed to his room and slammed the door behind him.

Chelsea and I both watched him and continued to stare at the shut bedroom door until a knock on the door to our suite reminded me that we still hadn't eaten. That we were having dinner delivered. That we were supposed to be on vacation together and it was only our first night.

Chelsea moved to answer, but I had lost my appetite and retired to my own room before she could stop me.