Kayla POV
I was sprawled on the sun lounger, wearing black shades over my eyes. Unlike the sun-worshipping white people, relaxing with full exposure to the sun, completely unbothered. I luxuriated beneath the wide cover of my own umbrella, positioned beside me, cocooned in its cool shade, shielded from the scorch.
“Miss Johnson.”
I tilted my head, peering over the rims of my sunglasses. A server stood before me, impeccably dressed in his crisp white uniform, his sleeves short and cut like a sailor. Balanced effortlessly on his tray was my cocktail—a mesmerizing gradient of a bright yellow melting into deep green, like the shimmering tourmaline sea beneath a sunlit sky.
“Thank you, darling,” I said with a wink, plucking the glass from its perch.
The server gave a polite nod before retreating, and I brought the drink to my lips, letting the cool, citrusy tang dance over my tongue. A sip of paradise, in a place that already felt like a dream.