Read Wet: Part 1 for Free Online Page A

you a whole day. For all I know you’re crawling with all kinds of cooties.”
    He smiled timidly and glanced away.
    “Do you really think the alcohol will kill the germs? I guess that does make sense—some of them anyway, right?”
    Paul seemed dumbfounded as if just realizing how much she really meant it. She took another sip of her now hard lemonade.
    “This really isn’t bad. I can hardly taste the alcohol.”
    “Rhees. You’re from Utah? Are you Mormon?” Christian from Canada interrupted Paul and Rhees’ staring contest. 
    “No.” She turned her attention to the crowd around the table. “Contrary to popular belief, not everyone in Utah is Mormon. I happen to know there are at least three of us that aren’t.” She’d used the joke many times but it never failed to get a laugh.
    “Where is Utah?” Peder was Norwegian.
    “Western United States, between Colorado and Nevada,” Rhees answered.
    “Vegas!” Mitch said quite enthusiastically with his Irish brogue.
    “Yep, I live about seven hours from there.” Oddly, the other girls at the table had become very quiet.
    “Utah Jazz,” Assif from Israel added what he knew. “Karl Malone.”
    “Yeah. We have that too.”
    The island really did attract a variety of cultures and she liked the diversity. 
    oOo
    Paul sat quietly through dinner. Rhees kept catching him watch her, wanting to know why, what he was thinking. The germ episode forgotten, it drove her crazy again, wondering how and when he would make his move, and how she would handle it—afraid she wouldn’t know how to handle it.
    She decided to be grateful for his gift of alcohol, even if he planned it as part of some sinister plan to get her drunk and into his bed. She didn’t think she would have made it through dinner without it.
    She’d never been much of a drinker. When she turned twelve, her parents started letting her have watered down wine on special occasions, and to be a good sport, she’d learned to gag down a beer with her dad during the Super Bowl, on St. Patrick’s Day, and the Fourth of July, but that was the extent of her experience.
    After dinner, the group moved to a bar called Tanked, the preferred hangout for all the dive shop people because it sat on the water and reminded everyone of the shop. The bar opened up to a large deck that was similar to the deck at Paradise Divers. 
    Quaint, like everything else on the island, and like everything else on the island—it had a slightly dirty feel about it—at least in Rhees’ overly-sensitive-to-germs state of mind.
    When she refused to allow herself to think about the griminess, she enjoyed the laid back and comfortable atmosphere—nice, as far as bars went—in her experience . . . which was very limited.
    “You changed your mind?” Regina said, pulling Rhees aside.
    “About what?” Rhees asked.
    “That kiss! You trying to get Mr. Paul to jump them bones of yours now?”
    “No, you know I’m not.”
    “Then you, of all people, should not never be playing with fire that way.”
    “But I was just trying to do what you said—trying not to act like a . . .” Rhees gave up. She would never get it.
    Regina shook her head. “I don’t know what more I can do for you. I think you need a full-time babysitter, but that sure as hell is not never going to be me.”
    It stung that Regina had already figured her out. She was a baby—the very reason she came to the island in the first place. She needed to do something out of her comfort zone because it was time to grow up.
    As the night progressed, everyone settled in on some activity. A few eventually left and went to other bars, a couple went home, and some sat at a table with other people on the island and talked. Tracy and Regina started up their favorite late-night pastime, a game of dominoes.
    “Rhees, play with us,” Tracy urged.
    “Oh, no, I’ve never played.” Rhees held her hands up and shied away as if they’d asked her to hold a snake. She watched them