By ten in the morning, The Tiki Tumble was chaos.
Not catastrophic chaos.
Island chaos.
Which mostly meant three tourists trying to figure out coin machines, somebody’s child climbing into an empty dryer like it was a spaceship, and Mrs. Alvarez loudly accusing her husband of shrinking her capri pants “out of spite.”
Lila leaned against one of the folding tables sipping iced coffee and watching the entire thing unfold with open amusement.
“You deal with this every day?”
Heidi snorted while stuffing quarters into a stubborn machine.
“Every. Single. Day.”
“That little boy is absolutely going to climb inside that dryer.”
“Yup.”
“And nobody’s stopping him?”
“Nope.”
“Island parenting is insane.”
Heidi finally smacked the side of the machine hard enough to make it rumble awake.
“There we go.”
Lila stared.
“You fixed it by hitting it.”
“Same strategy I used in corporate America.”
“You’re deeply concerning.”
Heidi grinned over her shoulder.
God.
Lila looked beautiful in the morning light.
She’d tied her dark hair into a loose knot today, strands escaping around her face every few minutes while she helped fold towels behind the counter. Sunlight spilled through the laundromat windows, warming her skin gold beneath the turquoise walls and mosaic tiles.
Heidi caught herself staring again.
And again.
And again.
It was becoming a problem.
Not just attraction.
That part was obvious.
It was the smaller things getting to her now too.
The way Lila bit the inside of her cheek while concentrating.
The way she greeted elderly customers like they were family.
The way her laugh filled the laundromat completely when Heidi muttered sarcastic comments under her breath.
Heidi had spent years around people who drained her.
Lila somehow did the opposite.
“Earth to Heidi.”
“Hm?”
Lila smirked knowingly from across the folding table.
“You’re staring again.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“Okay maybe a little.”
Lila’s grin widened.
The warmth of it hit Heidi directly in the chest.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Mrs. Alvarez shuffled past carrying a basket of towels.
“You two make a very beautiful couple,” she announced casually.
Both women froze instantly.
“We’re not—”
“It’s not—”
Mrs. Alvarez waved dismissively.
“Mhm. That’s what my sister said before she ran away with a scuba instructor.”
Then she disappeared toward the dryers like some tiny old island oracle dispensing queer prophecies.
Lila burst out laughing first.
Heidi covered her face.
“Oh my God.”
“I like her.”
“She once hit a tourist with a flip-flop.”
“See? Incredible woman.”
The laundromat bells jingled loudly.
Aiofé entered like a glamorous hurricane.
Black sunglasses.
Black romper.
Black lipstick.
Platform sandals clearly designed by Satan himself.
And carrying an enormous paper bag.
“Well,” she announced dramatically, “you two look aggressively domestic.”
Lila groaned immediately.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
Aiofé swept toward the counter and dumped the bag down triumphantly.
“Tacos.”
Heidi blinked.
“You brought us lunch?”
“Obviously. Emotional support tacos.”
“That’s weirdly thoughtful.”
“I contain multitudes.”
Aiofé removed her sunglasses slowly and looked between the two women.
Then narrowed her eyes.
“…you kissed.”
Lila nearly inhaled her own coffee.
“What?”
“You absolutely kissed.”
“No we didn’t,” Heidi lied instantly.
Aiofé gasped theatrically.
“OH MY GOD YOU DID.”
“How the fuck would you even know that?”
“Please.” She pointed one rhinestone-covered fingernail dramatically between them. “Your sexual tension is visible from space.”
Lila laughed into her coffee while Heidi groaned.
Aiofé leaned against the counter smugly.
“So,” she said casually, “tell me everything about the threesome.”
Absolute silence.
Then:
“…what?” Heidi croaked.
Aiofé’s jaw dropped.
“You think Jacques Laurent leaves your apartment at six in the morning looking like that after discussing philosophy?”
Lila fully choked this time.
“Oh my God,” Heidi muttered. “The entire island knows?”
“Darling, this island knew before you did.”
Aiofé opened the taco bag and handed them both containers.
“Frankly,” she continued thoughtfully, “I’m a little offended I wasn’t invited.”
“You are impossible,” Lila informed her.
“I didn’t want Jacques,” Aiofé clarified immediately. “Love him dearly. Beautiful man. Fantastic cheekbones. But emotionally he’s basically a haunted cigarette.”
“That is… weirdly accurate,” Heidi admitted.
“Thank you.” Aiofé pointed at Lila. “Now you? Different story.”
Lila nearly spit coffee laughing.
“I hate you.”
“You absolutely do not.”
Aiofé grinned wickedly.
“I would have climbed both of you like a tree.”
“AIOFÉ,” Heidi laughed.
“What? I’m honest.”
“You’re unwell.”
“Correct.”
The three women dissolved into laughter hard enough to draw curious looks from customers.
For a while, the strange heaviness hanging over Heidi since the bite faded into the background.
There were still flashes of pain from her thigh now and then, dull pulses beneath the bandage that made her stomach tighten unexpectedly, but between the tacos and the laughter and Aiofé loudly explaining why rich women should not be allowed to choose eyebrow shapes after divorce—
Heidi almost felt normal again.
Almost.
Aiofé eventually perched herself atop one of the folding tables dramatically while eating chips straight from the bag.
“You know what’s sickening?” she announced.
“What now?” Lila sighed.
“You two actually look happy.”
Heidi glanced instinctively toward Lila.
Lila looked back immediately.
And there it was again.
That soft charged silence.
Aiofé pointed between them.
“See? Disgusting.”
“You’re literally wearing leather in tropical humidity,” Heidi replied. “You don’t get to judge anybody.”
“That’s fashion, sweetheart.”
“That’s heatstroke.”
The afternoon drifted by gently after that.
Customers came and went.
Dryers hummed.
Ocean air drifted through the open windows.
And Heidi found herself quietly memorizing Lila in pieces.
Bare feet against the mosaic tile.
Sunlight catching the gold hoops in her ears.
The way she folded towels while swaying absently to the music overhead.
It hit Heidi slowly sometime around sunset.
Not dramatically.
No lightning strike.
Just the simple terrifying realization that she was beginning to fall for her.
Hard.
The thought both thrilled and frightened her.
Because loving people had historically gone very badly for Heidi Bennett.
Still—
When Lila smiled at her across the laundromat that evening, Heidi felt warmth spread through her chest so naturally it almost hurt.
By the time they closed up, the sky outside had darkened into deep blue.
Aiofé had already swept back out into the night hours earlier, leaving behind dramatic air kisses and half the tacos.
The laundromat finally quieted.
Lila grabbed her bag near the counter and stretched.
“Well,” she sighed. “You survived your first official emotional support shift.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“That’s probably true.”
Heidi smiled softly.
The warmth between them lingered quietly now, less awkward than before. Easier.
Real.
Lila stepped closer near the counter.
“You sure you’re okay tonight?”
The concern in her voice returned immediately when she asked it.
Heidi touched the bandaged bite absently beneath her dress.
“It hurts less.”
A lie.
But a useful one.
Lila didn’t fully believe her.
Still, she nodded slowly.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Neither moved away.
The space between them hummed softly with everything neither woman quite knew how to say yet.
Then finally, Lila leaned forward and kissed Heidi once.
Quick.
Soft.
Warm enough to leave Heidi breathless anyway.
“Goodnight, mainlander,” Lila murmured against her mouth.
“Goodnight, island girl.”
Lila laughed quietly and headed toward the door.
The bells jingled softly as she disappeared into the warm island night.
Silence settled over the laundromat afterward.
The familiar kind.
Usually comforting.
Tonight—
Not so much.
Heidi turned off the music first.
Then one row of lights.
The laundromat dimmed into soft amber shadows and humming machines.
Outside, the ocean crashed somewhere beyond the buildings.
Heidi moved toward the folding tables collecting abandoned dryer sheets when—
Jingle.
The bells above the front door rang sharply.
Heidi looked up immediately.
Nobody.
The door remained shut.
A cold sensation crawled slowly up her spine.
“Hello?”
Nothing answered.
Only the steady hum of dryers.
Her pulse quickened.
Maybe the wind caught it.
Maybe—
Jingle.
This time louder.
Heidi froze completely.
The front door had not moved.
But the bells were still swaying.
Slowly.
Like someone unseen had just walked through them.
The air inside the laundromat suddenly felt wrong.
Heavy.
Every tiny sound sharpened instantly—the hum of fluorescent lights, the churn of distant machines, the ocean somewhere outside.
And then Heidi felt it.
That same feeling from the laundromat the other night.
Like she was no longer alone.
The spider-walk sensation crept violently up the back of her neck.
Her heart slammed hard against her ribs.
No.
No no no.
Not again.
Heidi stared toward the darkened back row of washing machines.
The shadows there seemed deeper now somehow.
Watching.
Waiting.
And for one horrifying second, Heidi became absolutely certain—
The man from the ocean had come back.
