Read A Nice Fling is Hard to Find for Free Online Page B

accenty and sexy. He
was rolling his R’s and everything. “Merci, Pierre. J’ai faim, et
je veux manger . Queseque tu recommandes manger?” Then
he added with a laugh, “Comment je dis cela?”
    “That was way too much to repeat,” I said.
    He gave me a big smile. “You must try.”
    So he spent the rest of le diner teaching me le
French . Did you know that plate is plat ? That fork is fourchette ?
That glass is verre ? How smart am I? I can now name my entire place
setting in French and my name in Russian.
    If any of my actual teachers had been this sexy, I’d be
multi-lingual.
    Anyway, there I was enjoying my educational dinner when
Tommy and Penny with a Y had to come and annoy the heck out of me. First of
all, they walked into dinner TOGETHER, and his cheeks were all flushed and she
was all giggling, and then he held out her chair for her. Puke. But that’s not
what really bugged me. It’s when I saw it.
    Her lips.
    They were glossy. They were orangey. They’d been . . .
guava-fied. Oh, yes. I am 99.9999% sure that Penny with a Y stole my Grandma’s
guava. Not that I can accuse her. Yet.
    I spent the rest of dinner trying not to stare.
    First she steals Tommy, and then she steals my lip gloss?
Did she take my camera, too?
    12:32 A.M.
    Not that I think Penny stole Tommy.
    12:45 A.M.
    Because he wasn’t mine. He was my friend, sure, but he
didn’t belong to me. One thwarted kiss does not a boyfriend make. I don’t even
like Tommy! I mean, I like him as a friend but that’s it. I am not looking, or
wanting another boyfriend.
    1:15 A.M.
    Obviously I’m going to have to search Penny’s stuff right
now while everyone is asleep.
    2:10 A.M.
    Well, that didn’t work out as planned.
    I shimmied down the bunk bed and then snuck over to her
backpack. Which was unlocked. And which was also red and covered in designer
labels. Instead of flags, Penny with a Y decided to sew I ♥ Juicy patches
onto her bag. She’s a citizen of Bloomies.
    I got down on my hands and knees, unzipped it and began
feeling my way through her clothes. And that’s when I heard:
    “Lindsay, what are you doing?”
    I froze. Penni with an I was awake and even in the dark I
would see her glaring at me.
    “I’m uh . . . looking for a tank top. It’s so hot.”
    “But that’s not your bag.”
    “What?” I feigned confusion. “Whoops! It’s so dark in here I
can’t see anything.”
    “Why would yours be under our bunk bed?”
    Excellent question. “I thought I put it there.”
    I don’t know why I was making excuses to her, when it was
her friend who (99.9999% sure) stole my stuff.
    Once I removed my hands from inside her friend’s bag, took
out a tank top from my own (kind of had to), and returned to my sleeping bag,
Penni reluctantly stopped glaring at me. Although first she double checked both
her and the other Penny’s bag and locked them both.
    And here I am. Writing. With my flashlight. Again.
    In case you’re wondering—my toe still hurts. And so do my
boobs.
    5:30 P.M.
    Nice is not that nice.
    We arrived by train this afternoon. We once again had to
divide into rooms of four, but this time the Pennies arranged to stay with Max
and Kristin. Wonder why. Anyway, Becca and I bunked with Abby and Joanna. We
quickly changed into our bathing suits and met the rest of our group on the
“so-called” beach. I write “so-called” because there is no sand. Only rocks.
Okay, fine, it’s still pretty gorgeous. The coastline goes on forever and the
water is bright emerald. Large, glamorous hotels line the beach and boardwalk.
We hung out on a public beach, but right to the left of us was a private club
area complete with white beach chairs, fluffy plum-colored towels and bar
service.
    Because of the rocks, some of the guys had already bought
foam mats to put their towels on, so we followed their lead and bought our own
from a little shop on the boardwalk.
    Then I set myself up – and declined to remove my bikini top,
thank you