How to Date a Millionaire Read Online Free Page B

thumps against my head. ‘Geez, Nat. Calm down. You don’t have to hit me.’
    ‘What? I didn’t hit you! It was this!’ She bends over and picks something out of the spa. A plastic cup. ‘It came from upstairs.’
    I look up. Upstairs, huh? That can only mean from the penthouse apartment that was supposed to be ours. And, just as I look up, another plastic cup falls over and lands on our balcony tiles.
    ‘Oi! Hey! Hey, you up there!’ I call out. I hear mumbled voices. And then …
    ‘Oh man. Sorry!’ A head pops over the railing.
    Oh.
    It’s a guy. A cute guy. And I was about to give a lecture about donking people on the head with plastic cups, especially plastic cups that fall from apartments certain people are supposed to be penthousely ensconced in themselves, but I’m not quite so sure what to say now. It’s not a cute guy kind of speech, is it?
    ‘Hey! That cup fell on Nessa’s head.’ Alexa starts my speech for me.
    Right. Okay. Apparently Alexa thinks it is a cute guy kind of speech after all.
    ‘Really?’ He bites his bottom lip. ‘I’m sorry. I keep telling the guys not to leave cups there, but …’ He shrugs.
    ‘Guys?’ Nat pipes up.
    ‘Seth and Connor.’
    ‘Really. And you are?’ (For this, Nat gets a good elbowing from Alexa.)
    ‘Oh, sorry. Jason. I’m Jason.’
    ‘Well, I’m Nat and this is Nessa and Alexa. Don’t throw any more cups on us, okay?’
    Jason grins. ‘I won’t. I promise. And sorry again, Nessa!’ His eyes rest on me for a moment and then, with a wave, he’s gone.
    Nat turns to us both with a satisfied look. ‘He’s interested in you.’ She cocks an eyebrow at me. ‘I can tell.’
    The first thing that pops into my head is Ben. And then Ned. And then Justin. Use your head, Nessa, I remind myself. Your head, not your heart. Just for a while. Just tillyou’re over the Ben/Ned/Justin stuff. I shrug. ‘He’s not my type,’ my head (thank goodness) answers for me.
    ‘He’s not your type? But he’s so cute! He’s super-cute!’
    I shrug again and my mouth opens, ready to say something, but nothing comes out. It doesn’t really matter, though, because Alexa fills the silence for me.
    ‘Out! Out!’ She gives Nat a little push from behind. And, to me, her eyes wide, she mouths two words, which look decidedly like ‘choker chain’.

    We walk a couple of doors down to the Outrigger hotel and decide pancakes at Duke’s are a good idea.
    ‘That’s the banana pancakes, the macadamia pancakes and the waffle dog. Enjoy your meals!’
    ‘ What is that ?’ Alexa stares at Nat’s waffle dog as if it might start barking at any moment.
    ‘It’s a waffle dog.’
    Sigh.
    ‘It’s a hot dog wrapped in a waffle thing.’ Nat lifts it toher mouth and takes a big bite. ‘And it’s good too,’ she says, her mouth full.
    Shrug.
    Not too long after (you really work up an appetite going pruney in a spa), we’re resting back in our seats, holding our stomachs, checking out Duke’s groovy wood-and-thatch surf-shack décor and sighing different kinds of sighs altogether – full-up sighs.
    ‘I think I want to live here,’ Nat says contentedly. ‘In Hawaii, I mean. Not at Duke’s.’
    On the other side of the table, Alexa and I look at each other. I think we both know exactly what she means. Everyone seems really friendly and cruisey, the weather’s perfect – not too hot, not too cold, with blue, blue, blue skies – the shopping looks good and smiley happy holidayers abound. In other words, it’s the opposite of NYC, where it’s seen as a weakness to smile, the holidayers look scared they’re going to be mugged any second and sometimes even your life takes on the cold, grey hue of concrete and routine.
    ‘I think we should live here,’ Nat continues dreamily. ‘We could rent the apartment. The three of us. And work as …’ She pauses, thinking.
    ‘Bikini models?’ Alexa snorts.
    ‘Well, Nessa has a nice new bikini,’ Nat laughs and, not being