The Consequence of Revenge (Consequence 2)

She nodded.

Cool. Fingers crossed a giant shark ends my life so I don’t have to go through with the rest of this date. The old Max would have liked the attention.

The old Max would have kissed every single girl, gotten into their pants, made no apologies or promises.

But apparently I’d started to change, because not only was I bored out of my mind, but every minute with these girls seemed like a waste of time—when I could be with THE girl. The one I really wanted.

Cat giggled.

It sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

I glanced around, my eyes hoping to find a shark. Then again, I was pretty sure Becca wouldn’t want me going out like that. Now, death by whiskey? She’d probably high-five my corpse and take a shot over it. I mean she was cool like that.

The splash of water was warm, inviting, a bit soothing. Hell, if Cat didn’t wanna go scuba diving, I was perfectly fine entertaining myself.

“See?” I swam around a bit. “Totally fine out here.”

Cat smiled.

And then that same smile froze.

The instructor’s eyes bulged nearly out of his head as he held up his hands and said in a strained voice, “Don’t move.”

I thought I’d gone over this with people. Worst thing ever to say to a person who was voted most likely to panic in tense situations. I was the dude who ran into the burning building not to save someone but because I was so freaking disoriented I just ran toward the light, feel me? So saying, “Don’t move” was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

So I moved.

Cat screamed.

Our instructor paled.

And something nudged my leg.

Please let it be Hades.

I looked to my right.

A shark.

Not huge.

Not small.

Just right.

Like the three bears, it had found the perfect spot, a sweet spot, so to speak, and it was nestled right next to my left nut, also known as Mighty Max Jr.

“I’ll never sire children,” I whispered.

“Hit its nose.” The instructor made a sweeping notion with his hand.

“How hard?” I asked.

“Who cares?” Cat screamed. “Just hit it, Max!”

Ah, I knew she had a brain in there somewhere. With a curse I moved with deadly precision and hit the shark right on the nose.

It let out a war cry, or maybe that was me. At any rate there was a lot of splashing, someone pulling me back into the boat, and then Cat’s mouth was on mine before I could do anything.

“Breathe!” She pounded my chest. “Breathe, damn it!”

“I’m—”

“Breathe, Max!”

Finally I turned to my side as she smacked my back, hell, why hadn’t I pushed her in with that shark? She would have terrified the shit out of it.

“Thanks,” I muttered, voice hoarse, pretty sure she’d done more damage than Sharky.

“He’s alive!” she yelled to everyone on the boat.

There was applause and because it was a date where my date at least cared enough to want to save me, I quickly turned and kissed her across the mouth. “You stay.”

She beamed.

And I instantly felt guilty for being such an ass.

But what was worse? I’d just kissed a girl who wasn’t Becca and I hated it. I hated every single part of it. What should have been easy was hard because as much as I wanted it to be her, I still had two more dates to go.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

MAX

It was lunch.

I was starving and I was in some serious need of alcohol.

With a sigh I waited for the third date. At least after this I was halfway through the individual dates, right?

Rex handed me a protein bar and patted my back. Holy shit, was he actually soothing me? Did he suddenly see the error of his ways?

I looked down at the protein bar.

It was called Aphrodisiac Delight.

Um. No.

I was half-tempted to chuck the bar at his head. Instead I mumbled a thanks and tucked it in my back pocket. No way was I letting any of those girls near that thing.

A pretty girl started walking toward me. I semirecognized her and tried to channel the whole chart in my room but I kept coming up with a blank, so by the time she reached me all I really had to go off of was my charm.

And let’s be honest, I was practically dripping with charm. I held out my arm and said, “You look lovely.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked behind me at the camera and made some obscene gestures with her hands. Holy crap. What did I do?

“She does not speak English,” the producer said. “We thought it would be fun to show some diversity in the show.”

“Well, I know some Spanish,” I offered lamely. How the hell had I not interacted with this girl yet? I’d met her when we’d gotten on the Island and I’d waved, but when she hadn’t talked I’d just thought she was shy!

“You know Portuguese?” the producer asked, an amused grin plastered all over his shit-eating face.

I laughed. “Aren’t they the same thing?”

The producer groaned. “You’re lucky she doesn’t understand you.”

“Wait.” I held up my hands. “How are we supposed to communicate?”

“And that,” Rex said from next to the camera, “is part of your date. You woo her with your native tongue—”

“My tongue isn’t native. I mean it’s been some pretty crazy places but I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s in possession of a passport or anything.”