My jaw goes rigid and my eyes widen when Walsh runs her index finger down Graeme’s forearm. What part of don’t-flirt-with-Graeme did she not register?

A loud, piercing whistle cuts through the chatter. “My group, gather round please,” Xiavera calls from the mouth of a trail leading away from the beach.

Graeme raises his selfie stick. “I’ll meet you guys over there.”

“Don’t be too long,” Walsh tosses over her shoulder as she strolls toward our group, hips swaying in her slate-blue yoga capris. I shoulder my daypack and follow. Twisting around to peer at Graeme, I watch as he jogs over to the sea lions, lifts his selfie stick, and turns in a tight circle like he’s recording a 360-degree video. I narrow my eyes. What’s he planning on doing with all this footage anyway?

With a huff, I join the group of ten or so guests crowded around Xiavera. Of course Nikolai is one of them. He flashes me a wide, toothy grin before puffing his chest like a frigate bird. Beside me, Walsh takes a long sip from her water bottle.

I should grab her by the elbow, drag her into a bush, and tell her in no uncertain terms that Graeme is off-limits. Period. But that might attract a wee bit too much attention. It’ll have to wait.

“Can everyone hear me?” Xiavera calls out. Her voice is soft yet commanding. “Bueno. Now, today’s hike will be much shorter than yesterday’s, only forty-five minutes or so. But the rules are the same—stay on the path until we get to the beach, and don’t crowd the wildlife. Today we are looking for flamingoes. There is a small population in the Galápagos, and they like to visit Floreana’s lagoons in these early-morning hours…” She trails off, craning her neck. From somewhere in the group, smacking lips follow a noisy crunch.

“Oh, no. No, no.” She presses through the crowd until she’s standing in front of Nikolai. He’s holding a shiny red apple, and there’s a large bite missing. She plucks the apple from his grasp and holds it up for all to see.

“You must not bring food off the ship—ever. Outside food is strictly prohibited on the islands.”

Nikolai’s face pales as he swallows his bite. “I’m sorry.”

“Why isn’t food allowed?” I ask, legitimately curious.

“Good question,” murmurs Graeme from directly behind me. I feel his presence like a live wire. Goose bumps dot my arms and a crackle of energy shivers down my spine. But I don’t turn around.