OLIVIA
The scorching sun burned against my bare back as I sat at the entrance of one of the tents Benjamin had provided, feeling as if it were peeling my skin away, layer by invisible layer.
"I can't believe this," I scoffed, my frustration bubbling over as I glared at Christian. He was lounging a few feet away in another tent, scrolling through his phone like we weren't in the middle of a furnace.
When he'd said he came here to relax, I hadn't imagined this.
This wasn't relaxation, it was torture.
My gaze drifted outside, where tourists and locals were actually enjoying themselves—playing sand games, riding horses, making the most of the desert. Meanwhile, I was roasting alive in a tent, watching a man who clearly had no intention of moving anytime soon.
Enough.
Unable to take it a
