The Do-Over (The Miles High Club Book 4)

I lie for a moment in a state of shock, and then it dawns on me.

He’ll be back for his things. If he sees me here, he will know that I was here the entire time.

Oh crap.

I jump out of bed in a rush and quickly remake my bed, and the door opens.

Oh no, he’s back.

“Hey.” A man smiles. He has long dreadlocks and a kind smile . . . he also smells bad.

Worst body odor ever.

It takes all my might not to screw up my face. “Hi.” I smile.

“My name is Basil.”

I shake his hand. “I’m Hayden.”

“Nice to meet you. We’re roomies.” He taps the bed above mine. “I sleep above you.”

“Great.” I fake a smile. Oh god . . . I’ll have to smell him all the time. Shit.

“Not too sure about this fossil thing, though,” I add.

“Ha ha, me too. Nearly choked when he told me, but to be honest I’m glad now. There are some real dickheads in the other rooms, young and stupid. Blind drunk all the time and so, so noisy.”

“Oh.” Relief fills me. If he is anything to go by, that means everyone in here must be nice.

“Where are you from?” he asks.

“America, a few hours out of New York. What about you?”

“Brazil.”

“Oh.” I smile. “I’ve always wanted to go to Brazil.”

“Yeah, it’s awesome. You have to do it.”

“You been traveling long?” I ask him.

“About a month. Hoping to meet some people and travel for another year with them.”

“Oh.” I smile. Me, too, but I’m holding my cards close to my chest until I know if I like the people. “Sounds great.”

The door bursts open, and that guy walks back in. He’s completely naked and holding a tea towel over his junk. “Hi,” he says casually, as if he does this every day. He bends and begins to get clothes out of his backpack. Totally unfazed.

“Hi.” I swallow the lump in my throat. His face is better than his dick . . . and trust me, the dick is good.

“I’m Hayden,” I introduce myself.

He stands up, and with one hand strategically covering his junk, he holds his other hand out to shake mine. “Hi, Hayden.” He gives me a breathtaking smile. “I’m Christopher.”

Oh . . .

“Excuse the lack of clothes, some fuckwit just vomited all over me.”

My eyes widen. “It must be the day for it. I just saw a cabdriver getting vomited on on the way here.”

“Yeah.” He goes back to his bag and begins to rustle around in it. “That was me, and now I have to go back to that damn cab and drive it all afternoon. I can think of nothing worse.” He passes a bottle of deodorant to Basil. “Put it on,” he demands.

“What did I tell you about poisoning my body,” Basil huffs.

“Listen, fucker. While you are sleeping in a room with me, you will smell like a human. Put. It. On.”

I suddenly feel really uncomfortable. Poor Basil, how embarrassing for him. They must be friends.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Who does this guy think he is? “Do you two know each other?” I ask.

“Just met.” Basil rolls his eyes.

My blood boils, I feel so bad for Basil. “Firstly,” I snap, “put some clothes on. Secondly, stop being so damn rude.”

Hot guy’s eyes flick up to me in annoyance. “Do you want to smell that every day?”

“At least he has clothes on. I would rather smell that than be forced to look at you naked,” I fire back.

Not really . . . not even close.

“Is that so?” he replies. His chin lifts in defiance. “And who made you the room manager?”

“You did, when you started being insulting.”

“Listen,” he replies as he keeps looking through his bag. “I don’t know how things work where you come from. But in my world, people don’t smell like body odor. They also don’t put up with it. Personal hygiene is a basic human response.” He shoves the deodorant bottle back at Basil. “Put. It. On,” he demands.

I narrow my eyes. I think I officially hate this guy.

“On one condition,” Basil replies.

“What’s that?” Rude guy pulls a pair of briefs on, and I pretend not to look.

“You teach me how to pick up women.”

What?

“What?” Christopher screws up his face, also confused. He pulls a shirt on over his head.

“You heard me. I’ll shower more often and wear deodorant if you teach me how to pick up women.”

“Oh my god . . .” I roll my eyes. “You cannot be serious?”

“Deal.” Christopher nods. “That’s easy. Chicks are easy. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.”

“Ugh.” Okay, it’s official. I do hate him. “Are you always so full-on yourself?” I ask him.

He smiles. “No . . . I’m usually on women but happy to be on myself too. Nobody does it better than me.” He holds up his hand and gives me a playful wink.

Yuck.

“Good grief. I’m going to find someone intelligent to talk to.” I walk toward the door.

“Don’t forget boring,” he calls after me.

I march down the hall. This is a nightmare. I’m rooming with Stinky and the Stallion.

Not to mention the horny snack lady.

This is just great.

It’s 3:00 p.m., and I’m sitting in the lounge area of the hostel.

The staff are all rushing around. Apparently there is a full moon party on here tonight. The theme is white.

I have a white sundress that I’m going to wear, although I don’t remember seeing it this morning in my bag. I hope I didn’t leave it behind.

Hmm . . .

I’d better check my things.

I go back to my locker and take my bag out and drag it to my room. I unzip it and frown.

This isn’t what I packed. Is this even my backpack? I check the label. Yep, it’s mine.

I pull out the G-string black bikini, horrified. “What in the world?”

I rifle through my bag at double speed. Where is the white flowing summer dress?

Fuck . . . those bitches repacked my bags with sexy clothes. I text Monica.

Where are all my clothes!!

She texts me back.

On the farm where they belong.

You can thank me later.

Love you!

Bitch!

My eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. What am I going to wear now? There is nothing in here white except this stretchy stupid dress, and I am not wearing that slutty outfit.

God, now I have to go shopping to find something else . . . ugh.

I stomp back to my room, and Basil is in there, and although I hate to admit it . . . he now smells good. He has another man with him. “Hi, Hayden. This is Bodie.” He introduces us. “He’s in our room too.”

“Hi.” He smiles. “Do you want to come shopping? We have to find white shit for tonight, apparently.”

Bodie is warm and kind looking. He instantly puts me at ease, and with that Australian accent, he sounds pretty dreamy. “Actually, I do.” I smile. “Thanks.”

I grab my things, and we head out the door.

Barcelona is buzzing, alive with the colors and scents of an exotic country.

While the boys shop, I walk behind them, mesmerized by my surroundings.

This place is utterly, utterly beautiful.

Basil digs his phone out of his pocket. “Hey.” He listens for a moment.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” He turns back and smiles at me as he listens some more. “Yeah, sure thing, we’re getting something now. What size?” He laughs. “Okay, bye.” He hangs up the phone.

“We got to get Christo something white to wear. He’ll pay me later.”

I frown. “Christo?”

“Yeah, you know, the guy in our room today.”

“I know who you mean. I don’t understand why you like him.” I widen my eyes.

He shrugs. “He’s an okay guy.”

“Pussy magnet.” Bodie smiles. “Did you see the women surrounding him last night?”

“Uh-huh.” Basil smiles. “And what about the one he went home with?”

Bodie lets out a low whistle. “Man oh man, I would have given my left nut to nail her.”

Basil smiles as he holds his hands in the shape of big boobs. “She was equipped.”

I screw up my face. “You guys are gross. And if you would give a testicle to bone a girl, you need to go to the hospital.”

They both laugh, and I do too. Boys are ridiculous.

“When did you guys all get here?” I ask.

“Yesterday,” they both reply. “And Christo too.”

We keep shopping, and my mind wanders to naughty boy . . . hmm, so he slept with someone on his first night here, hey?

Figures, I guess. Why waste time when you’ve got a dick like that.

Asshole.

You know what pisses me off?

The nice guys who would love a woman for forever and a day come last . . . every time. And the player cockheads who have big egos are blessed with big dicks. They never get brokenhearted, they never get left, and they are never lonely. They always come out on top.

Ugh . . .

Just doesn’t seem fair.

“All right, these shirts,” Bodie says. He grabs three short-sleeved button-up shirts. They’re white and cotton and fit the brief.

“And these shorts?” Basil grabs three pairs of white shorts from the rack.

I exhale heavily as I look around. “Now me.”

We look and look and look . . . nothing in white.

“Bernadette is wearing a white bikini,” Bodie says casually as he strolls through the racks.

“What with?”

“Nothing, it’s a full moon party.”

“What does that mean?”

“I guess we get to see lots of moons.” Bodie shrugs.

I wince. “I don’t want to look at people’s buttholes.”

“I do.” Basil smiles.

“Me too,” Bodie agrees. “I would like to fuck some too.”

“You idiots and your dicks.” I roll my eyes. “Just find me something white.”

Two hours later

“Screw this, I’ll rip up my bedsheet and wear that,” I huff in disgust.

“Good idea,” they both agree. “We’re supposed to be back there now.”

“I mean, I do have a white dress.”

“What?” Basil explodes. “You mean we just wasted two hours for nothing?”

“I can’t wear it; it’s obscenely tight. My friend snuck it in my suitcase and took out all my sensible clothes. It’s so short it looks like a belt.”

“I like your friend,” Bodie replies. “Come on.” He heads for the door.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. You’re wearing your slut dress.”

The worst part about sharing a room is just that . . . sharing a room.

How in the hell are you supposed to get ready and privately freak out about what you’re wearing?

I’m in the bathroom, in my little shower stall. Pretty boy is right. These tiny towels are fucking ridiculous. I dry myself and dry myself, and still I don’t seem to get anywhere.

Laughter echoes all around, and the hostel seems packed to the rafters, but I think that’s because everyone is staying in tonight for the full moon party.

I slide my bra on and then my panties and pick up the white dress. It’s stretchy and seems so small. I have to stretch it out just to get it on . . . far out. I wiggle it down over my hips. It comes to above my knees. It’s stretchy and tight, with a scooped-out neck.

I try to look down at myself. Damn it, I don’t even have a full-length mirror here.

I suppose I should be grateful that I can’t see how ridiculous I look. I brush my hair and pack up my toiletries bag and slowly open the door.

I’m dreading tonight. I do not feel comfortable at all.

I walk out to see scantily dressed girls everywhere. One smiles. “I love your dress.”

“Thanks.” I walk to the sink awkwardly and take my makeup out. I glance over to see a girl with a white G-string on and white body paint in the shape of hearts on her boobs, complete with hot-pink tassels on her nipples. She even has white feathers strategically pinned behind one ear. “You look great.” I smile.

Damn, she does look great. I wish I had that confidence.

“Thanks. Hey, you’ve just checked in?”

“Yeah, I’m Hayden.” I smile.

“I’m Kimberly,” she says in an English accent. “Where are you from in America?” she asks.

“A few hours from New York. Where are you from?” I ask.

“Manchester.”

“Oh, I would love to go there.”

“New York’s on my list of to-dos too,” she replies as she puts on the brightest of bright hot-pink lipstick and rolls her lips.

She oozes confidence, and damn it, she looks so hot.

She looks me up and down and gives me a kind smile. “You look good.” As if knowing I’m in the middle of a complete confidence crisis.

“Feel a bit . . .” I shrug. “Awkward.”

“This is your first stop, isn’t it?”

I nod.

“You’ll get used to the crazy. Are you traveling alone?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“I had three friends with me. We’ve been traveling for six months. They left for home yesterday. So now, it’s just me.” She shrugs happily. “That’s the beauty of these hostels. Everyone travels alone, so you instantly have eighty friends. I’m going to see where the wind blows me for another few months.”

“Sounds great.” I try to focus on my makeup.

“I’ll see you outside?” she asks.

“Sure.”

“Bye, Hayden.” I watch in the mirror as she skips out.

“Bye.”

She seems nice.

I slowly make my way back to the room and lock my things back up in my locker. Damn it, I wish I had a full-length mirror.

I can hear laughing and music coming from outside.

Oh well . . . may as well get this over with.

The bar is alive with a sea of white. There’s a DJ and a dance floor.

I stand at the edge, peering in, wondering what to do. I hear a voice. “There you are.”

Bernadette grabs my hand and pulls me into the crowd. “You look hot, girlfriend.”

I smile bashfully. “Thanks.”

“We’re over here.” She pulls me over to Bodie and Basil. They are talking to three beautiful blonde girls. “I’m getting us some drinks.”

“Thanks.”

“Wow.” Basil laughs. “Look at you.”

Kill me now. This is so awkward.

“Look at you.” I laugh. They are both in their matching little white outfits.

“I am going to have some lipstick smeared all over this collar tonight.” Basil widens his eyes. “That’s right.”

I giggle. “I bet you will.”

“Here he is,” Bodie says. We all turn to see Christo walking down the steps. His white shirt is open, revealing his chiseled abs. The shorts are tighter and shorter, revealing thick quad muscles, and even though he’s wearing the same outfit as the boys, somehow, he looks completely different.

Good different.

I angrily snap my eyes away. Damn it, I hate that he’s gorgeous, and more than that, I hate that he knows it.

The boys wave, and he smiles and comes over. “Hey.” He laughs as he holds a bottle of Corona in his hand. “Look at us being all angelic-like.” He smiles to the girls. “Girls.” He raises an eyebrow at them. He glances over at me. “Grumpy.” He nods in a greeting.

Grumpy.

I fake a smile. You have no idea.

He introduces himself to the girls. “I’m Christo. You must be models, right?”

The girls giggle, and I roll my eyes.

Please.

“I have done some modeling,” one of the girls says.

OnlyFans, I bet.

“I knew it.” He smiles. “Where are you from?”

“Germany,” they reply. They have beautiful husky accents.

Bernadette arrives back with a drink for me and passes it over. “Thanks.”

She looks Christo up and down like he’s a piece of meat, which is fitting because he thinks he is. “Christo.” She smiles. “Do I get a kiss hello?”

He crinkles up his nose. “Not now, Bernadette.” He playfully gestures to the girls. “This is my big break with these models here.”

The German girls all laugh on cue, and Bernadette does too. How does he do that? Everything he says comes out smooth.

Ugh . . .

Basil and Bodie smile goofily at each other. I think they like him more than the girls do.

“What do you do?” I hear one of the girls ask him.

“I’m a teacher,” he replies.

A teacher?

“I just love kids, you know,” he continues.

I call bullshit . . .

I look over to see Kimberly waving me out to the dance floor. She’s dancing with a big group of people. I grab Bernadette’s arm. “Come on, we’re dancing.”

Four hours later

I’m feeling very tipsy and having the time of my life.

Who knew that full moon parties were this fun? I’ve danced, I’ve chatted, and we won’t mention how I’ve been watching a certain annoying person more than I would ever admit.

He has a flock—I’m not even joking—a flock of women around him at all times.

Everywhere he goes.

And he’s loving every second of it, the showman and his captive audience.

Laughing and lapping up all the attention. Every now and then I see him say something to Bodie and Basil, and they listen intently. He’s coaching them how to pick up and what to say.

I’m standing near the dance floor, watching everyone. I hear a soft voice from behind me. “Grumpy.”

I smile into my drink. I kind of have to agree with him; he does make me grumpy. “Hello, Christopher.”

“Christo,” he corrects me.

“Is it?” I raise my eyebrow.

He twists his lips, amused. “It’s Christopher, but don’t tell anyone.”

“Do you think Christo sounds hotter?”

“Don’t you?”

“Definitely not.”

He chuckles and takes a swig of his beer. “Are you having fun?”

“I am.”

An awkward silence falls between us. He’s not all flirty and playful with me like he is with everyone else.

“How was taxicabbing today?”

“Hell on a stick.” He swigs his beer again.

“Didn’t you just get here? Why are you working already?”

“Had my credit card stolen and my bank account wiped on my first day.”

I screw up my face. “Ouch.”

“Hmm. Don’t talk about it.”

The DJ gets on his microphone. “Women, turn directly to your left,” he announces.

To the sound of giggles, all the girls turn to their left.

“Grab the man’s arm closest to you,” he continues. I smile. He’s been doing weird games like this all night.

I grab Christopher’s forearm.

“Now, after three . . . take his hands in yours and stare into his eyes.”

“What?” I frown.

Christopher chuckles and puts his beer down onto the ground. Everyone is laughing and joking as they take each other’s hands.

“As we wait for the full moon to come in, we are going to do two things,” the DJ calls.

Christopher and I laugh. This is ridiculous.

“We are going to count down, and then you are going to look the person in the eye. Tell them how many people you have slept with, and then you are going to tongue kiss them.”

The bar erupts with laughter.

What?

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.”

“How many people have you slept with?” the DJ cries.

Christopher’s eyes hold mine. “I don’t know.”

“One,” I whisper.

I take his face in my hands and kiss him. My tongue slowly slides through his big lips, and he kisses me back.

Slow and tender, and his eyes flutter closed.

Oh . . .

His arm snaps around my waist, and he drags me closer. The kiss deepens.

And as I hear cheering and laughing in the background . . . we keep kissing.

Just the right pressure and a little suction.

He pulls out of the kiss and stares at me. His forehead crinkles. “What was that?” he snaps.

“I kissed you.”

“One?”

Oh crap . . . that’s what he’s been thinking about the whole time?

Embarrassed, I nod.

“One?” He gasps.

“Uh-huh.”

He stares at me for a beat, and his arm snakes around me again, and he pulls me closer. “Come here,” he growls.

Shit.

“No.” I pull out of his arms. “I have to go.”

“Why?”

“Because you have to keep shooting those fish in barrels.” I shrug. “And I have to swim upstream.”