Revel

  Revel

  Bryce Oakley

  Contents

  Also by Bryce Oakley

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Thank you!

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Bryce Oakley

  The Kaleidoscope Album:

  Undone

  Bewilder

  Midnight

  Bloom

  Series Set

  Bonus Novella: Revel

  Holiday Romance:

  Most Wonderful

  Standalone Romances:

  The Adventurers

  Chapter One

  Isla

  Isla stared out the tiny plane window, nearly tearing-up from the gorgeous sight of the turquoise, clear waters, the white beaches, the reef... the entire atoll was one of the most beautiful places she had ever seen.

  "Did you know that small planes like this are 100% more likely to crash?" Sabrina stage whispered from beside her.

  Isla squeezed Sabrina's hand, which had been clutched to hers in terror for the past fifteen minutes.

  "Did you know that 85% of statistics are made up on the spot?" Freya said from behind them, lifting her eye mask.

  Beside her, Pia snorted.

  They had been traveling for an extraordinary amount of time, but thanks to Pia's private plane, it hadn't been all bad. The flight from Tahiti to the private island was in an even tinier plane, designed for the shortest runway Isla had ever seen.

  "And we're here. Get ready for landing," the pilot said from barely two feet in front of them.

  Isla's heart swelled as they descended and she could make out the lush forests, villas dotting the landscape.

  Billie and Vero were getting married in a secret ceremony and had booked an entire island for the event. She would have thought they'd get married in the mountains, but apparently there was no way to secure the perimeter quite like a private island in French Polynesia.

  The plane touched down and Sabrina made a low whining noise from beside her as the pilot stepped on the brakes.

  "We barely made it," Sabrina said dramatically as she leaped onto the tarmac.

  "You're right, we really got here by the skin of our teeth, babe," Isla said, patting her shoulder.

  Music interrupted her teasing and she turned to find a group of dancers and singers near the entrance to the hotel. Pia smiled, greeting two of them by name. It had been her recommendation that the wedding take place on the island, and it seemed like she frequented it fairly recently. Isla had heard a rumor — straight from Zoey, so the source seemed legit — that the last time she was here, Pia had dinner with the Obamas while they were writing their autobiographies.

  "Good enough for the Obamas, good enough for me," Isla said, holding her sunhat as she stared up at the swaying trees overhead.

  Paradise.

  The air felt softer, somehow, and she was instantly reminded of home. Even though her plan was to visit New Zealand and see her mum after the trip, she still felt homesick with the smell of salty, ocean air and fresh trees surrounding her.

  They stayed for the duration of the welcome song, then thanked the performers for their time and talent before walking into the main reception area.

  Domino and Zoey waited inside — they had arrived a few days before to help get everything ready.

  Isla and Freya lingered back as Sabrina and Pia wrapped their partners in hugs and kisses.

  "Missed you so much," Freya joked in a high-pitched voice.

  "It's been three days, I thought I might die without you," Isla joked.

  "To the Single Girls Club," Freya said, raising an invisible glass in cheers.

  "Hear, hear. Single Girls Forever, Frey," Isla said.

  They walked up to the concierge who began to check them in and hand them a welcome gift with personalized flip flops and reef-safe sunscreen.

  Everything was going well. Great, even. Perfect, really.

  And that was when the concierge handed them two keys for the same villa.

  "Sorry, what?" Freya asked, glancing from Isla back to the employee. "We each get a villa."

  The man looked panicked, furrowing his brows. "I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding," he said in a thick French accent. "But you are both booked for villa four."

  "It's fine, we can share a villa," Isla said, wanting to diffuse the situation by rolling her eyes. "It'll be fun, roomie."

  "How many beds are there?" Freya clarified.

  Isla worried for a moment that the concierge was going to climb under the table as he said in a defeated tone, "One King size bed."

  "Everything okay?" Zoey asked, wrapping an arm around Isla's shoulders in greeting.

  "Yeah, they just... the rooms are mixed up," Isla said. "But it's totally fine. It's not a big hardship to share a villa."

  Domino popped up beside her. "What happened?"

  Isla side-eyed Dom. Whenever Domino got involved, things escalated quickly.

  "It's fine," Isla said quickly.

  "There's one bed," Freya said at precisely the same moment.

  Domino smirked and it looked like she was trying to hold back a laugh.

  Sabrina's eyes widened and she smacked Domino's arm.

  "I'm sure there's a lounge, it's fine," Isla repeated.

  Domino raised her phone to her ear. "Hey Billo, are you with Phoebe?"

  "Oh my god, please don't call Billie," Isla said. She already felt awkward that Billie and Vero were giving her an all-expenses-paid vacation to a private island — it would be so much worse to then complain about said vacation.

  "Who is Phoebe?" Freya asked Zoey.

  "The wedding planner. She's... a lot," Zoey said with wide eyes. "I think maybe she was a Drill Sergeant in a past life."

  “Can you send her down?” Domino said.

  "I'm not sleeping on a couch," Freya said, narrowing her eyes at Isla.

  "That's fine, I can sleep on a couch," Isla said.

  "Worried about sharing a bed?" Pia teased with a wink.

  "Women can't help themselves when they share a bed with me," Freya joked with an exaggerated wink.

  Isla raised an eyebrow. "Like moths to a flame, I'm sure."

  She glanced over Freya's casual ensemble — the woman had worn linen pants for the past twenty-thousand hours they had been flying and didn't even appear rumpled. She looked as if she had just stepped out of an Old Céline ad — only the Phoebe Philo era, of course. Her dark hair fell just to her shoulders in a sharp lob and she had even placed her sunglasses into a case in her handbag instead of shoving them on top of her head like Isla had.

  Freya nodded, her brow furrowing in a wisened expression. "It is my cross to bear."

  "We have a two-bedroom villa, we can switch," Zoey said, looking up at Pia.

  "I love you and your generosity," Pia said, wrapping her arms around Zoey's waist. "But hell no."

  "You'll find that the villas are very spacious," the concierge piped in.

  Isla didn’t doubt that — she had looked at photos online and the place looked heavenly. It’d be fine. She could sleep on a couch.

  "Okay," Domino interrupted. "Phoebe’s on her way over.”

  Zoey’s eyes widened. “Let’s go, baby,” she said, turning to Pia. “You must be exhausted.”

  “Coward,” Domino teased.

  Freya gave Isla a sideways eyebrow raise.

  Zoey and Pia walked out of the lobby and towards a courtyard where a golf cart was waiting for them.

  Another golf cart pulled up and a woman in a stiff white button-down, fire-engine red hair cut into a severe chin-length bob, and sen
sible kitten heels hopped out of the front seat even before it stopped moving.

  Someone in the group audibly gulped.

  The doors flew open and the woman walked in, a clipboard stuffed under her arm. She gave a curt nod to Domino and extended a hand towards Freya, then Isla, saying only, “Phoebe. Event Manager.”

  Event Manager. Damn, that seemed even more intense than a Wedding Planner.

  “I understand there’s a mixup,” she said, her stiff posture definitely reminding Isla of a classic movie portrayal of a drill sergeant. Zoey hadn’t been far off the mark with that one.

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Isla said quickly.

  Phoebe leveled her with a hard stare. “I have you in my notes as a couple.”

  Freya snorted and Phoebe turned her stare to the other woman.

  There was something vaguely familiar about the movement — Terminator? Was she a robot?

  “I apologize,” she said, without a hint of apology or sympathy or really, any emotion at all in her voice. “Let me talk to the concierge.”

  Freya stepped closer to Isla, lowering her voice. “Why do I feel like we did something wrong?”

  “I can’t help feeling like we somehow forced her to make this mistake,” Isla whispered. “Like, maybe we’re a couple and we just forgot, somehow? She seems worse than Collins.”

  “Way worse,” Sabrina whispered beside her.

  Phoebe returned after a moment, holding out her clipboard. “Unfortunately, there are no available villas. You’ll be sharing one.”

  “None?” Freya asked.

  “None,” Phoebe repeated.

  “Well, my brothers, parents, and Vero’s family are here, not to mention Meg and Collins,” Domino added.

  “Well, roomie, looks like I’m sleeping on a couch,” Isla said.

  “Enjoy your stay. I’m very busy, so I must leave,” Phoebe said, giving a curt nod as she turned on her heel and marched out of the lobby, her bright hair shining in the sunlight. The unnatural color only added to the mean robot-vibes.

  “I can’t tell if I should be terrified or turned on,” Freya remarked.

  “Both,” Sabrina and Isla said in stereo.

  As Isla paced through the villa — which had a sitting room, an office, a bedroom, an outdoor bathtub, a private infinity pool, and private beach access — she realized that they had been silly to ever get upset about it.

  She laid down across the couch, stretching out her limbs. Her legs couldn't extend all the way, but that was okay. She slept on her side most nights, anyway, with her knees tucked up. It'd be fine. She wouldn't complain about it and make anyone feel awkward. She wouldn't.

  She sat up, steeling her resolve to make this work without a word of complaint.

  She spotted the minibar area and walked over, sussing out how much a bottle of water would cost on a private island. $100, at least?

  "I'm going to take a shower and then go get a massage," Freya said, walking into the room in her custom hotel flip flops, rubbing at her shoulders. "I hate traveling."

  "Did you know the minibar is complimentary?" Isla asked, turning over a card tucked inside the door of the small refrigerator that was fancier than the one in her apartment.

  Freya grinned. "Atta girl," she said, giving her a salute before walking back into the bedroom.

  Isla heard the shower turn on and continued to explore. The doors to the porch and pool area disappeared into the wall completely, opening up the room to the expansive deck, covered eating area, lounge chairs, and down to the hot tub and small private pool. Had she ever been anywhere with a private pool before?

  A knock at the door startled her and she walked back through the main living area to answer. An employee dressed in all white was holding two bicycles by the handlebars. "Complimentary bicycles to get you around the island," he said in the same thick French accent of the concierge.

  "This is awesome," Isla said, her eyes widening as she looked over the bright yellow cruisers.

  "Have you seen the honey in the minibar yet? We have all of our own hives and harvest our very own honey right here," he said with a proud smile.

  Isla nodded, impressed. "That sounds also awesome," she said.

  "Isla, can you help me–" Freya interrupted, walking out of the bedroom in only her bra and pants. "Oh, fuck."

  The employee's eyes widened as he tried to look anywhere but where Freya had walked into the room.

  Isla had never seen Frey without a shirt before, but damn, even she was a bit impressed with what Freya was hiding underneath her normally loose, flowy clothing.

  "My apologies. I'll just park the bikes over here at the entrance," the man said, nodding and hurrying to turn away.

  Isla stifled a grin and shut the door, walking back to the door of the bedroom. "Whatcha need, Peep Show?"

  "My necklace is stuck and my shoulder is too sore for me to keep reaching up to mess with it. Can you help me take it off?" Freya asked, holding her discarded tank top over her chest.

  Isla rolled her eyes and reached to unlatch the necklace. Freya's skin was silky soft under her touch and she could see that it was freckled slightly from so close up. Why was she noticing such intimate details about one of her closest friends? Maybe Freya wasn't joking about the moth to the flame comment... but she had spent so much time with Freya out at bars and parties that she knew her well. She knew Freya, right? It was just Freya.

  She unclipped the necklace and twirled it to unwrap it from around itself. "There you go," she said, handing it over.

  "Thanks," Freya said with a shrug before walking quickly into the bathroom.

  Isla sighed, shaking her head. She had to get her mind off of it. Maybe some time spent lying in the sun and relaxing would unwind her nerves long enough to stop fantasizing about the only single woman in a 200-mile radius. That had to be it, right?

  She waited until she heard the shower turn on, then walked out to the porch. She looked around through the groves of banyan trees surrounding their own private terrace, but she saw no other signs of life.

  She changed into her togs and grabbed a beach towel, lying it over one of the lounge chairs set up in front of the pool. She sat down, taking in the sweet smell of gardenia and plumeria and relaxed, closing her eyes. She could hear the waves and made a mental note to leave the windows cracked so that she could hear them at night.

  She lived so far from the coast in LA, but back home, the tiny house she'd grown up in was so close to the beach that she fell asleep listening to the waves, feeling the sand in her sheets.

  She'd left home seven years before, just after college, when she'd received a job teaching at a private school. She went back home during summer breaks — just in time for the freezing Kiwi winter — but sometimes made it out for Christmas if the flights weren't atrociously expensive.

  She missed her family terribly, but there just wasn't enough opportunity back home. She'd grown tired of the small beach community she'd grown up in, then tired of living in Auckland for college. Sure, it was beautiful there and she did prefer living on an island with no natural predators, but she'd never regretted her decision to leave.

  She flipped onto her stomach, untying her swimsuit top to prevent tan lines.

  "I'm heading out to the spa, see you in an hour or so," Freya called from somewhere inside.

  She raised a hand to wave in response.

  She closed her eyes, melting into the warm lounge chair beneath her. She pictured herself getting a sun massage, which probably wasn't as relaxing as a professionally-trained masseuse, but at least the heat level was the same.

  She let the sun warm her skin until it felt too hot. She turned onto her side, glancing down to her bikini bottoms. Those would make a strange tan line... She glanced back to the door, then shimmied out of them.

  Once she was fully nude, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes again, reveling in the feeling of being alone, relaxing on a private island in front of a private pool, twenty feet from private be
ach access. There were birds in the trees, she could hear waves crashing on the beach, and the best part — she couldn't hear any other humans. She was blissfully alone.

  It felt luxurious, like the feeling that came over her when she found a vintage Chanel bag on sale. Pure, unadulterated joy.

  "Isla," she heard, and startled awake.

  Freya was standing over her with a strange expression on her face.

  "Oh good, you're alive," Freya said, blinking down at her. "I thought maybe you'd been burned to death."

  "I thought you were getting a massage," Isla said, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the bright light.

  "I did. It was an hour, and now I'm back here," Freya said.

  "Oh fuck, then I think I fell asleep." Isla sat up and Freya took a step back, her eyes widening.

  "Your... uh..." Freya motioned towards her and Isla looked down to see that she was still completely naked. And, if she wasn't mistaken, her ass was sunburned. But literally, her ass. Bright red. Baboon red.

  She flinched as she sat, pulling her knees up as she covered her chest. "Sorry," she said.

  "Don't be sorry, I just wanted to... uh..." Freya said, looking anywhere but at her with a pained expression "Oh wow, is that a swimming pool?"

  Isla grinned at the kind gesture. She reached for the top and bottom of her bathing suit, shimmying back into both.

  "Okay, okay, I'm decent," Isla said, feeling a mixture of embarrassed and amused.

  Freya mumbled something under her breath.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. Want to get dressed, grab a bite, find some aloe vera, and then hit the hay?" Freya asked.

  Isla nodded enthusiastically. "I read about this ceviche platter you can order," she said, her mouth already watering.

  "Well, if there's any redfish in it, you'll match at least," Freya teased, looking up at the sky, the trees, anywhere but at Isla. "Just... put some damn clothes on, please."