Last Night

The last night on the island hit like a bittersweet wave, the kind that knocks you off balance just when you’ve found your footing. Our bags were half-packed in the bungalow, flight confirmations buzzing on our phones, back to Chicago tomorrow, back to reality. Mia insisted we end with a bang: one final bar crawl, toasting to the adventures that had patched up my heart, piece by salty, sun-kissed piece.

We dressed like it was our last chance to feel alive, Mia in a slinky gold dress that shimmered under the torchlights, me in high-waisted shorts and a cropped top, his shirt still hidden away like a talisman I couldn’t bear to wash. The air was thick with humidity and promise as we wandered the resort paths, laughter spilling from us like the wine we’d already cracked open in the room.

The beach bar was alive, fairy lights strung like stars overhead, a steel drum band playing upbeat rhythms that made toes tap. We claimed our usual stools at the end, Mateo spotting us immediately with a warm grin. “Ladies! Last night? The usual?”

“Double the rum,” Mia declared, sliding him a generous tip. “We’re drowning our sorrows before the real world drags us back.”

I laughed, but it felt hollow. The sunset was bleeding orange into the water again, just like that first night. My eyes scanned the crowd reflexively, couples swaying on the dance floor, groups clinking glasses, solo travelers nursing drinks. No sign of him. No midnight eyes locking onto mine.

Mia nudged me. “You okay? You’ve got that faraway look again.”

I shrugged, forcing a smile. “Just… nostalgic. This place got under my skin.”

She leaned in, voice dropping. “Or someone did.” Before I could protest, she turned to Mateo, who was pouring our piña coladas with flair. “Hey, handsome. Quick question. You remember the guy my girl here was chatting with a few nights back? Tall, dark, brooding type? Any chance you know his name or if he’s still around?”

My heart lurched. “Mia! Stop…”

Too late. She waved me off with a wink. “What? Inquiring minds want to know. Come on, Mateo. Help a sister out.”

Mateo paused, mid-pour, brow furrowing. “Ah, ladies… so many faces come through here. Tall, dark? Could be anyone. Sorry, no names stick unless they’re regulars. He checked out already?”

Mia pouted dramatically. “Damn. Worth a shot.”

I felt a pang, sharp, unexpected. Sadness bloomed in my chest, wilting the evening’s glow. He was gone. Really gone. No accidental run-in, no second chance. Just a memory and a stolen shirt.

Mateo slid our drinks over with a sympathetic smile. “Enjoy your last night. On the house.”

We toasted, the rum sweet and strong, but it didn’t chase the melancholy. Mia chatted about her scuba instructor. “Diego’s got stamina for days. I’m keeping his number. Next trip, we’re doing a dive reunion. Or a horizontal one.” She waggled her eyebrows, pulling a laugh from me despite everything.

A guy approached then, tall, blond, with a surfer vibe and a cocky grin. “Ladies. Mind if I join? You look like you could use some company.”

Mia eyed him appreciatively, but I shook my head politely. “Thanks, but we’re good. Girls’ night.”

He leaned closer, undeterred. “Come on. Just one dance? You’ve got eyes that could stop traffic.”

I felt nothing, no spark, no pull. Just an annoyance. “Really, I’m not interested.”

He shrugged, backing off with a “Your loss,” but the interaction left me unsettled. Why? He was cute. Harmless. But the thought of flirting, of starting that talking stage dance again, numbers exchanged, awkward texts, the slow build to maybe something, made my stomach twist. I wasn’t ready. Not for relationships, not for flings, not for anything that required opening up.

Deep down, though, I knew it wasn’t just Chad’s ghost. It was him. The stranger. One night, and he’d ruined me for casual. His touch lingered like a brand, making every other possibility feel pale. Mia noticed my quiet, squeezing my hand. “Hey. You’re single, babe. The world’s full of hot men. When you’re ready, they’ll be lining up.”

I nodded, sipping my drink. “Yeah. When I’m ready.”

We stayed until the band packed up, the crowd thinning, stars wheeling overhead. Mia regaled me with more Diego stories. “He did this thing with his tongue underwater. Well, not underwater, but you get it” her energy infectious, pulling me back to laughter. We wandered the beach one last time, toes in the sand, the waves whispering goodbyes.

Back in the bungalow, we collapsed into bed, Mia snoring softly within minutes. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling fan, the anklet’s absence, a phantom weight on my leg. Tomorrow, Chicago. Work. Normalcy.

But as sleep finally tugged me under, his face flashed, velvet voice, scarred brow, hands that had unraveled me.

The island had given me magic. Now it was time to see if I could carry it home