South beach by Aimee Friedman

the number of Ana Mendieta. She'd just go down the list and call everyone, asking to speak to Diego. Holly's heart was in her throat as she pressed the last digit. Am I being brave or crazy? she wondered. But it didn't matter either way. In a few seconds, she might be hearing Diego's smooth, mellow voice. Her spring break romance was just a phone call away.
    Out at the pool, Alexa casually set her straw tote on one of the lounge chairs and patted her thick blonde bun to make sure it was still in place. She removed her sunglasses, slid off her flip-flops, and strode toward the pool, wiggling her hips as she walked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw boys watching her with interest, and she felt her spirits lift. She was sure she didn't look tired anymore.
    Alexa glided down the tiled steps into the water, which was just the right temperature: cold enough to wake up her skin, but warm enough to feel relaxing. She submerged herself completely, sinking into the water's cool embrace. Then she drifted back up,
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    happily drenched, and swam a few paces into the deep end. Alexa, unlike Holly, was not a great swimmer, but she adored pools -- the gentle caress of the water, the other half-naked bodies so nearby. An empty inflatable lounge floated toward her, practically begging her to climb on. How could she resist? Alexa put her hands on the float and hoisted herself out of the water. She slid onto the lounge slowly and, she hoped, seductively.
    She'd just gotten settled when a mustachioed waiter near the pool's edge caught her eye and smiled.
    "Can I get you anything, miss?" he asked, nodding toward the pad and pen in his hand.
    It's working! Alexa thought. Nobody doubted that she belonged here. This really had been a brilliant plan.
    "I'd love a Bellini," Alexa replied without missing a beat. She'd never had that drink before, but had always liked the sound of it: white peach nectar with sparkling white wine.
    "Anything else?" the waiter asked, scribbling down her order. "Black olive tapenade on toast points? Hummus dip with whole-wheat pita? Blue corn chips with homemade guacamole?"
    I should probably get some food in my stomach, Alexa mused. To help my hangover and all.
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    "I'll have the tapenade," she said, trailing her foot through the water.
    "Very good." The waiter walked away, and returned shortly with her Bellini and a miniature platter of toast points with black olive spread.
    Alexa nibbled on a few toast points, then left the platter by the side of the pool as she drifted away on her float. She wondered, fleetingly, how she was going to pay for the food and drink once the waiter returned with the bill. She was sure that most guests at the pool simply charged the food to their rooms. Using her credit card would be way suspicious, and she didn't have any cash on her -- she'd spent it all on coffee that morning, and needed to hit an ATM. Alexa shrugged, and her concerns flitted away. She'd come up with something. She always did. She lifted the champagne glass and took a long sip, savoring the chilled, peachy flavor and the undercurrent of white wine. Just what the doctor ordered.
    "Good choice." The man floating on an inflatable lounge beside her spoke up. "Bellinis are my favorite daytime drink."
    Alexa cocked an eyebrow as she turned to look at her neighbor. Was he hitting on her? He looked to be in his twenties, and was definitely hot, in a Ken-doll way: blond hair, blue eyes, sparkly white teeth. His
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    swim trunks, she noted with approval, were Calvin Klein. Alexa gave him her most radiant smile. Here was a classy guy. She wanted to cringe at the memory of last night's frat boys.
    "It's yummy," she replied, delicately licking her bottom lip and lowering her lashes.
    Ken-doll smiled. "So are you enjoying Miami? I come here at least once a year. It's a great city."
    "Sort of," Alexa said with a roll of her eyes. "My friend and I went to this trashy place last night and I'm just so over that beer-guzzling scene."