Maximus narrowed his eyes. "Uh-huh."
She groaned internally.
’Great. Now he was suspicious.’
To distract him, she grabbed a drink from the mini fridge, cracked it open, and took a long sip.
But instead of cooling her down, it only made her more restless.
Maybe she should just... say it.
Rip off the bandage, throw caution to the wind, stop being a coward for once in her life.
She had already kissed him, how hard would asking him out be?
She took a deep breath. "Hey, Maximus?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
Dressa opened her mouth... then imdiately panicked.
"I — uh — think I left my charger in my car."
Maximus blinked. "Your... charger."
"Y-yeah," she stamred. "I should go get it."
Maximus tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. "Dressa, you drive a sports car. Where the hell would you even plug in a charger?"
Dressa froze.
’Crap.’
"I— uh—have a power bank?" she tried.
Maximus gave her a deadpan look. "Right. And I’m the King of Englxnd."
Dressa groaned, internally screaming at herself. "Forget I said anything."
Maximus smirked. "Oh, no. I’m rembering this forever."
She grabbed a pillow and chucked it at his face. "Shut up."
Maximus laughed, catching it easily. "Alright, no alright. But seriously, what’s up with you?"
Dressa hesitated.
For a split second, she considered just telling him.
But then she chickened out again. It had always been the guy asking her out, not the other fucking way around.
"I’m just tired," she muttered, lying through her teeth. "Long flight, you know?"
Maximus studied her for a mont, then shrugged. "Fair enough. You should get so sleep then."
Dressa nodded, relieved that he didn’t push further.
She went to a guest room with a small smile but as she climbed into bed, sleep was the last thing on her mind.
She lay there, staring at the ceiling, heart thudding against her ribs.
Maybe one day she’d get the courage to tell him.
Just...
Not today.
»»»«««
Maximus stretched his arms and leaned back on the couch, staring at the numbers on his laptop screen.
He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then stared again.
The number hadn’t changed — it had only gone up.
154,892 registrations.
He let out a slow breath. "Well... shit."
This was getting out of hand.
It had been insane enough when the first ten thousand people signed up, but after Anita’s video went viral, it was like an avalanche had buried them alive.
People weren’t just interested; they were desperate.
Salt Haven Resort, the na was already making waves.
It wasn’t even open yet, and it looked like the entire city — no, the entire country — wanted in.
Maximus ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his phone.
There was only one person who could help him deal with this ss.
He scrolled through his contacts and hit Zack’s na.
The phone rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Voicemail.
Maximus exhaled and called again.
This ti, the phone picked up on the third ring, and a groggy voice answered.
"Unless the resort is on fire, I don’t care right now."
Maximus didn’t bother greeting him. "Zack, wake up, must have been drinking,"
There was a long pause. Then, a rustling sound, followed by a deep sigh. "Dude. It’s like... what? Ten in the morning?"
"It’s twelve."
"Sa thing."
"No, it’s really not."
Zack groaned. "Fine. What’s the ergency?"
Maximus glanced at the screen again.
The number had jumped to 156,045 while they were talking.
"We have over 150,000 registrations."
Silence.
Then more rustling, a thud, and what sounded like Zack tripping over sothing.
"...How many?"
Maximus ran a hand down his face. "One hundred and fifty-six thousand. And it’s still going up."
Zack let out a weak laugh. "Oh. That’s... uh. Wow. Okay. Okay, that’s... that’s a big number."
"No shit."
"I thought we’d get, like, a few thousand tops, you know? Like — cool, we have a nice resort, so hype, maybe a solid crowd for the opening. But one hundred and fifty thousand? We’re not running a resort, Maximus. We’re about to host a damn festival."
Maximus sighed. "I know. And I have no idea how we’re supposed to handle this."
Zack was silent for a mont before muttering, "We need help."
"No kidding."
"No, I an, like, actual help. A team. There’s no way we can process this many reservations by ourselves."
"I figured." Maximus leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You think you can find soone?"
Zack made a thoughtful noise. "I’ll ask around. I know a few people who could handle guest managent — maybe an agency or a firm that specializes in this kind of stuff. But that’s for tomorrow. Today, we’re on our own."
Maximus groaned. "So you’re telling I have to sit here and process tens of thousands of reservations?"
"Uh, we have to process tens of thousands of reservations," Zack corrected. "You’re not leaving to suffer alone."
Maximus muttered sothing under his breath before clicking back onto the registration panel.
The number had risen to 160,210 in the last few minutes.
"...Yeah, no," he said. "This is ridiculous."
Zack yawned. "Suck it up, buddy. We wanted a successful business, right? Here it is."
"I didn’t sign up for this level of success this quickly."
"Well, that’s what happens when an international influencer makes a viral post about us. Now, stop whining and start working."
Maximus stared at his screen like it was a ticking bomb. This was going to take all day.
Reluctantly, he cracked his fingers and got to work.
[Two hours later]
Maximus had barely made a dent. His back ached, his eyes were burning, and he was this close to throwing his laptop out the window.
Every ti he processed a batch, more poured in.
It was like tryin
g to empty the ocean with a spoon.
His phone buzzed. A text from Zack.
[Zack: Bro. I just refreshed the page. It’s at 180,000 now.]
Maximus groaned and let his forehead hit the table.
[Maximus: I don’t want to live anymore.]
[Zack: Lmao. Get back to work.]
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