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The sun was already high in the sky, directly overhead, beating down without mercy on the three individuals in the blue Volvo station wagon that was bumping along the roads to Puerto Morales. They'd just pulled away from Juan's Autos, a decrepit little place that rented cars out that had seen better days to tourists who didn't know the difference. It had no air conditioner, but the heat was bearable with the windows down, the breeze ruffling the dark hair of Kirsten Beck, who occupied the middle seat in the back. She was staring out of the windshield, head nearly level with that of her two best friends as she leaned forward. No seatbelt....bad Kirsten....but this was Mexico and who really cared anyway? Fighting the urge to launch into 'Are we there yet?' Kirsten opted to let Noah just drive, and let Quinn be the copilot. Kirsten was terrible with maps anyway, and was much better in the backseat, keeping her mouth shut and concentrating on not sweating to death. Thank god she'd worn light clothing--a pair of khaki shorts that landed mid thigh, a white tank top, and the required flip flops. The strings to her bikini top could be seen at her neck, hinting that she was eager to hit the water as soon as they got to the beach. Still, even with the limited amount of clothes she was wearing, Kirsten was still sticky, plucking every now and then at her tank top to keep it from joining permanently with her skin. The air wasn't humid, thankfully, and the drive so far had been rather pleasant, Kirsten thinking up annoying songs to sing while the guys in the front thought up creative ways to ignore her. Being the oldest at twenty-two didn't seem to give her a sense of -feeling- older, if anything it made her ...

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