by Piper Rayne
But I’m also not going to take it too far.
As I hand him my empty glass, without heading back for another, I give him a huge smile. It may not be genuine, but I hope it’s convincing.
“I’ll see you later, okay, Colt. I’m just gonna head back to the hotel for a nap. I think the sun’s taken a lot out of me,” I say.
Then I turn, and I head for our hotel without looking back.
17
Sitting on the bed, legs up but crossed, and my arms around them, I stare into space.
I just…I wish I had a better idea of what I wanted, of what I should do. On the short walk back, I thought about what would work, and what would go up in flames.
It was just sex, after all.
No one’s said anything they can’t take back.
And, okay, true, it’s been some amazing sex. Sex that I won’t ever forget. But can’t it just be that, a fucking hot and fantastic set of memories between best friends?
It’s not like anyone is in love.
Since we figured out early on that it’s probably not going to work, before real feelings had gotten involved, then it should be easy enough to go back to normal.
My head bobs up and down onto and off of my knees, as I try to convince myself that this can work. But it can, right? It has to. We’ve known each other so long—even he should have known this would happen.
There’s a gentle knock at the door, and I freeze. I don’t even breathe for a moment. And then Colton’s coming into the room, like he’s walking on eggshells. But I’m not going to bite his head off, so to show him just that, I smile. I don’t think it lights up my face or reaches my eyes, but it’s a real smile anyway.
“What’s going on?” he asks as he sits down next to me on the bed.
“I’m fine. Nothing’s going on,” I say as I look straight ahead at the wall instead of at my best friend.
“Bullshit,” Colton spits out. It’s not anger that it makes it come out harsh; it’s desperation, like he’s begging me to tell him the truth.
So I look at him, willing him to believe the words I’ll give to him.
Willing them to be enough.
“I just don’t want to talk about it, okay? There’s nothing to talk about anyway. Everything is great. I really just needed a nap. And you know how I get when I’m tired,” I lie. “I had to get out of the sun and get some sleep before whatever we’re going to do tonight.”
I go for upbeat, with a light voice and a lifted corner of my mouth. I let my eyelids droop, setting my ear down onto my shoulder for emphasis.
Look at me, see how sleepy I am. Believe me.
“You know I only talked to those women, to anyone else, because you didn’t want our friends to know anything,” he says. “Yet.”
That added little word is the kicker.
He’s been waiting. He’s been ready to tell them as soon as I said the word. And I know—I’m positive—I never said “yet.” I never said anything about letting it out in the future, or eventually. All I asked for was that he keep it quiet. I don’t know if I ever wanted to tell anyone.
I should have known then.
He should have too.
But still, I don’t correct him.
Because I’m not upset. I’m not committed. I’m happy and cheerful. I’m going with the flow. I’m that cool girl that all guys want—even if she obviously doesn’t exist.
“Honestly, I get it. I’m not mad at all. I shouldn’t have joked like that. I didn’t know it would cause a whole thing,” I say as I stand. “I’m sorry.”
I can’t sit next to him any longer.
And if my hands don’t start doing something right now then my façade is going to crack in two. I won’t be able to keep sounding like a cool girl much longer.
The only thing I can think of is to start packing—since we only have a day and a half left anyway, it’s not a bad idea.
“I’m just going to clean up a little bit, shower, and then sleep for a while. Why don’t you head back out with everyone and do something fun,” I suggest. “It’s fine,” I try again.
But I also try to pretend not to notice how hard I’m punching my bras and T-shirts into my suitcase. The juxtaposition might be lost on him, but I’m just willing it away.
“I promise,” I try one more time, sounding as light as I can, as I turn to look at Colton while I say it.
His face is flat, his eyes so unsure.
But as soon as he opens his mouth to say something, something I’m not sure I’m ready to hear, there’s another knock at the door. And since we’re both in here, I can feel like a knife through my belly button that it’s not going to be anything good.
“Can you get that so I can finish this up quick?” I say turning back to the bed and the last of the pile of crap I still need to shove into my bag.
“It’s not more important than this. It can wait,” Colton answers, willing me to let him ignore it.
But someone’s knuckles meet out door again, and this time I don’t try to look happy anymore.
“Please just answer it,” I say a little quieter than I meant to. But he hears me anyway.
So he does.
He does what I ask, because it’s me asking it. And probably because he doesn’t know what else to do.
As he walks across the room and opens the door, I get the last of my crap shoved into my suitcase. But before I can turn to see whatever Colton’s seeing, my heart sinks.
Because I hear before I see.
“Look who it is,” a way-too-familiar voice says to Colton.
It’s her. From the beach, and the bar. It’s the chick who won’t give up.
18
“Hey, Stacy,” Colton says to her.
And I cringe when he says her name. I can’t even explain why. But I didn’t want to know her name, so the reflexive flinch is what it is.
“Hey yourself, handsome,” Stacy purrs.
It’s lucky she’s not looking at me, because she seems like the kind who’d pull out her earrings and scratch my eyes out for rolling my eyes at her. Which is exactly what I do. It’s what I want to do every time she speaks, apparently.
“Can we talk later?” Colton asks her.
He didn’t tell her to get lost.
He didn’t say that he’s with someone else and she needs to give up.
He didn’t say a lot of things he could have said.
And as I think about all those things he didn’t say, Stacy sees me somewhere behind Colton. She probably sees the two beds too, but at least she’s gracious enough to nod without arguing. Or saying anything to me.
If she tried to talk to me right now, I don’t even know what I’d do or say.
“How about I meet you down at the hotel bar? I’ll wait there for you,” she says with a smirk, as her hand finds his elbow. As she moves her fingers down his arm, all the way to his wrist, something inside of me splits in half.
“Okay,” Colton says, breaking the pieces even further.
He lets the door close slowly, probably hoping to…I don’t know what actually.
But I suck in a breath before it even latches, so I’m ready to go as soon as it’s closed.
“I’m glad you said you’d go,” I tell him, willing myself to sound like I did before. Anything but bitchy. As bright as I can. As effortless as I can get it to come out.
“You should go down to her.” I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. And that’s how I sound. I hope.
“What?” Colton asks. “Why?”
His face falls, like it’s crumpling in on itself. Like something that I can’t see is breaking—imploding. But maybe if I play this right, he can turn that around, he can will whatever that is away.
Mind over matter.
“Babe, it was just a fling. A fun vacation fling. Go get another one,” I say, nodding toward the door with my chin. And I manage a smile.
But Colton only shakes his head no. Back and forth he keeps shaking.
I ignore it,
interrupting whatever he might have been about to say.
“The timing is perfect anyway. We’re done now, so you should go get your dick wet with her,” I say.
Okay…that one might not have come out quite as carefree as I meant for it to.
“What the hell do you mean?” he asks, finally walking toward me. His hands start to reach for me, until I take one step backward—my knees hitting the bed. Then he lets his arms fall back to his sides, and his shoulders seem to take the cue as they slump a little.
Before I say anything, I point my finger from my chest to his, then back and forth a few times. “Us. This. It was so fucking much fun. But now that vacation is almost over, so is this thing. This fling,” I say.
And I manage to do it without a single crack in my voice.
He cringes when I let the last word out, though. Like I’ve slapped him, or thrown acid in his face.
I can’t think about that. And the easiest way to forget is to pretend it didn’t happen, look away.
“We’re just best friends again. We can go back to how we were before. And you can go down to the bar. You should. Seriously, I’m telling you to go have fun, okay?” I say as I move closer to him, my suitcase pulling behind me. “I mean it.”
He breathes too quickly, too shallowly.
But I don’t look at him.
“I’m going to get another room, my own, for tonight since it’s the last night. We can both get a breather, and you can take advantage of the privacy,” I tell him as I walk past him, not reaching out even though my body is calling for me to, craving his touch.
As I get to the door, Colton sucks in another breath, this one big. So I wait. I could run, get out before he says anything, but I don’t. I give him my ear in this moment, since I’m taking the rest of me away in the next.
“Is this really what you want?” he asks.
And for once, I have no idea what he’s thinking. His voice is neutral, composed. So maybe the reactions before were from pride. Maybe my acting skills are better than I thought. And maybe that’s a lot better.
I nod once, twice, too many times.
“It was never going to be anything serious. I mean it started with a challenge, with a ‘would you rather,’” I say. I wonder if he wishes I was done, but I have to finish. “Plus, you know how I feel about dating friends. You’ve always known. We had an amazing time, but this can’t go any further.”
“Do you think it was a mistake?” he asks, a whole lot closer to my back. I can feel the pull he has on me, the magnet that wants me to back into him.
But I don’t let it take me over.
Shaking my head, I laugh a little. It may sound forced, but at least it comes out. “Absolutely not. How could something so fun be a mistake?” I ask, not really wanting any sort of answer. “But the fun is over now. It has to be,” I say with finality.
Turning to look at him over my shoulder, he’s right behind me. And I can smell him—saltwater and sweat and something that reminds me of all the memories we hold on to together.
I smile the best that I can.
“Would you rather sleep alone tonight or go get that babe who’s clearly in love with you?” I ask, trying to make a joke.
He doesn’t laugh.
But neither do I.
And as the question hangs in the air, I lean over to kiss his cheek. Then without giving him time to say anything else I leave the room, letting the door click quietly behind me.
It takes me a moment to move from the spot just outside the room. Our room. But after a few deep breaths, I do; I head down to the lobby, with the wheels of my suitcase squeaking behind me, to ask for a new room.
While I wait for my turn at the front desk, I pull out my phone and send a single text.
* * *
Me: Hey, please don’t tell anyone still, so we can go back to normal.
19
Hennepin County Library
Books on hold:
* * *
Cooking for One: When You’re Sad but Still Need to Eat
Feng Shui Away the Blues: How to Turn Your Home into The Ultimate Happy Environment
1001 Quick and Cheap Ways to Brighten Your Day with Self-Care That You Never Thought Of
Easy Recipes When You Don’t Want to Cook
Figure It Out: If You Don’t Love Yourself Who Else Will
I Don’t Care What Anyone Else Says, You Aren’t That Bad
Learn to Crochet in Two Days
A Thousand Projects to DIY In Your Studio Apartment
The Ultimate Starter Guide to Becoming the Crazy Cat Lady You Were Meant to Be
“Hi, you’ve reached Emma. If your number isn’t already saved in my phone, you better leave me a message after the obnoxious beep, or I’ll never call you back. And if this is you, Mom, I still won’t call you back… Kidding!”
*Beep*
* * *
“I hate that message. Why do you want everyone thinking that you won’t talk to me? You love me, you little brat. And I can’t believe you haven’t called me this whole vacation. I hope you’ve been wearing sunscreen. Skin cancer won’t look as good as a tan. And speaking of tans, have you met any cute men? Are you even trying? Because I’m only going to live so much longer. Anyway, call me back. Love you.”
“Hi, you’ve reached Emma. If your number isn’t already saved in my phone, you better leave me a message after the obnoxious beep, or I’ll never call you back. And if this is you, Mom, I still won’t call you back… Kidding!”
*Beep*
* * *
“Ev… The girls asked where you were. I had to tell them about your new room. One thing lead to another. And. Fuck. I… It’s me. I was just wondering… Would you rather… Call me.”
20
I shouldn’t feel this miserable.
I know that.
But here I am, sitting on the floor of my shower, just letting the water crash over me, trying not to think about how I’d rather…not be showering alone.
And each time I start to drift that way, I remind myself that this was my own damn choice. My rules. My ending.
Plus, I did the right thing. I really did. I cut it off before either of us got hurt.
I swipe tears from my face, not that it matters because I’m directly under the shower anyway, so it’s all a mixture of sad water anyway. But it’s instinct to wipe away the tears. Then I let my hands just cover my whole face for a moment.
The pressure of my palms and fingers helps slow the crying.
Okay, so maybe I cut it off before either of us got hurt any worse. It could have been worse if we went home and kept it up for a few days, a few more weeks. Then it would hurt a whole lot worse.
Hugging my knees closer to my chest, I don’t want to think about hurting worse.
The water pressure is wonderful, so the pounding sound all around me is almost loud enough to drown out the rest of the world. It’s soothing.
But almost isn’t one hundred percent, because I hear a knocking on the bathroom door that has me flinching hard enough to bang my elbow on the tiled wall.
Panic starts rising up in my throat like sticky bile.
Why the fuck…? How the fuck…? No one should be in my room.
Thoughts of kidnapping, or whatever other horrible things, start flooding my mind, and as I brace my hands on the floor, I’m so ready to scream.
But just before I stand, my heartbeat encouraging me to do it with the speed it’s picking up to, I hear a voice.
It’s someone I recognize, and even though it takes a minute to place, the familiarity is enough to sit my ass back down.
“Hey, babe,” Charli says, loud enough for me to hear that it’s really her. “It’s me and Claire. Can we come in?”
“How the hell did you get in my room?” I ask, not giving them permission yet. “Wait…or know where I was?”
“Don’t get us in trouble, but we might have bribed a maid to let us in,” Claire answers. “And definitely don’t get the maid in trou
ble, because we basically badgered her, saying how you were dying in here, until she let us in.”
I don’t smile, but I consider it for a second.
“What did you bribe her with?” I ask. It’s all I can think of to say.
“Well, Tom doesn’t know it yet, but I may have pimped him out to give her a lap dance. So you’d better let us in—there’s absolutely no way any of us are missing that,” Claire says as she cracks the bathroom door open.
I can’t see her or Charli; they’re still waiting on the okay.
And I swear, I try to laugh about their joke, but it gets stuck in my throat. A lump blocks all sound. I wish it blocked the emotion that’s simmering in me too.
Obviously that maid shit can’t be true, so I make a note to have them tell me how they really got in here later.
“Come in, babes,” I say.
It’s not as loud as I meant for it to be, so when there’s a hesitation, I wonder if they heard me. I don’t think I have the energy to say it again, though. So I just wait.
When the door opens slowly, I readjust my position so the angle is less revealing. Hopefully they won’t get the full peep show. With my arms still around my legs, I set my chin on my knees and watch through the glass shower door as my friends come into the bathroom.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Charli asks me as I look toward the floor instead of at her.
“Tell you what?” I say.
When they don’t answer, I try again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But when the silence stretches, I finally look up, and there’s no give in either of their faces.
Fine.
“I didn’t want to tell anyone,” I say, my eyes moving up to the ceiling. “There wasn’t any point in sharing it. It was just fun. Just a fling. So why get everyone involved when it was going to be over soon anyway.”
I almost believe the lightness to my voice. It sounds so matter of fact, so plausible.
