by Kimberly Fox
“See?” Cynthia says with a mouthful of pancake. “That’s why you’re the better friend. That’s why you should have been the maid of honor and not that slut-bag.”
“Well, it’s not up to us is it?” I ask.
“It fucking should be,” Julia says while she peels her orange. “Picking that cunt.” She squeezes the orange in her hand and the juice shoots all over her white, designer tank top.
Cynthia bursts out laughing at Julia’s horrified look. I don’t want to even know how much that tank top cost.
“Don’t worry,” she says, reaching into her bag and pulling another tank top out. “I have a backup.” The price tag is dangling off the seam and I see $150 written on it.
“On the bright side,” Cynthia says, pouring more maple syrup all over her plate, “now you can fuck Superman.”
I’m ashamed that I’ve already thought of that. Numerous times.
“I’m not very hungry,” I lie as I stuff the apple and yogurt into my beach bag. “I’m just going to go read on a hammock. I need to get my mind off of this for a while.”
Cynthia touches my arm with her sticky hand. “Okay, sweetie. Come see us later okay?”
“I will.”
I saw some hammocks hanging in the shade at the beach that would be perfect for me right now. The sun is shining with not one cloud in the spectacular blue sky. I take a long breath of the salty air and I feel better than I have in a long time. Wow. I wasn’t expecting to feel like this when I woke up.
Kids are playing in the huge pool while their stressed-out, over-worked parents decompress on the beach chairs.
My head jerks back and I snort out a laugh when I see something that I never thought I’d see. Ethan is sitting on a lawn chair in front of me reading my book: All Angels Fall.
“What are you doing?” I ask, unable to stop giggling. Of all the books in the world, that’s the last one I’d expect him to be reading.
“What does it look like?” he asks, lowering the book past his exposed abs. “I’m reading.”
“You can read?”
He slides his sunglasses to the top of his head and gives the cover of the book a funny look. “I thought it would have more pictures.”
I smile. “Sorry about that. Why are you reading it was probably a better question.”
He smiles back at me. “You said that we have nothing in common. I’m trying to remedy that. We’re both reading the same book; now we have something in common. We can talk about it over drinks, through dinner, or after sex. Whatever you prefer.”
I’m not giving in that easily. “What’s the main character’s name?”
“Gabriel,” he says, “or are you talking about Skyler?”
He could have gotten that from the back of the book. Time for a harder question. “What is the council’s name?”
“The Holy Consort?” he asks. “Although I think they’re going to break up. Gabriel and Alexander are-”
“Whoa, whoa whoa,” I interrupt with my hands up. He’s actually gotten farther in it than me. “Where did you get that anyway?”
He grins. “I have my ways.”
“Alright,” I say with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve earned one drink after to discuss today’s reading.”
He smiles that delicious smile of his and lowers his sunglasses. He looks sexy in them.
“I have to go catch up,” I say, pointing to the beach. He’s actually ahead of me. I can’t have that. He grins as I walk away. When I turn back after a few moments he’s actually reading the book. The weightless feeling comes back and I catch myself almost skipping to the beach.
There’s a little cabana on the beach with the sweatiest man in Mexico making smoothies inside. I order a Berry Blaster and carefully watch him make it. A bead of sweat hangs dangerously close to falling into my smoothie but he turns his head at the last moment and it falls onto the sand. I feel bad and dig out a five dollar bill to leave him as a tip. He takes it, thanks me and then uses it to wipe his sweaty forehead before stuffing it into his pocket. Remind me to never touch money ever again.
The hammocks are empty and I stretch out in one, watching the calm ocean as I drink my Berry Blaster. It’s a gorgeous beach with white powdery sand and clear, turquoise water. The seagulls are cawing and little sparrows dart from tiki hut to tiki hut, looking for dropped French fries or other pieces of food that careless tourists have dropped in the sand.
Mr. and Mrs. Carson wave to me as they walk to the beach. I finish my smoothie and get started on the book. The embarrassment of having Ethan ahead of me is starting to get to me.
Unlike yesterday, I get absorbed in the book immediately and I’m on chapter three when I finally come up for air. Megan walks down the path looking like a hungover zombie. I lower my head and raise my book. I don’t really feel like talking to her right now.
Stephanie comes down a minute later looking as fresh as a daisy. There’s a group of people that came for the wedding gathered in the first few rows of chairs around Mr. and Mrs. Carson. Stephanie joins Megan who’s lying on a chair with a beach towel over her head.
An athletic looking girl from the resort announces that there’s going to be a Zumba class starting in two minutes. Of course, Stephanie jumps up in her tiny bikini and volunteers. She shakes her tits and ass in front of the wedding group. Can she go five minutes without showing off?
This girl is an attention whore of the highest level. She has no shame.
It’s weird but I’m not that mad at what happened. I’m more relieved. I’ve been running from the fact that Aaron and I have been over for a long time and now that it’s been shoved in my face it’s pretty liberating. I don’t have to try to make it work with him any longer. Love should be effortless and with Aaron it was all effort. And all from me and none from him.
Aaron and I had dated for two years in high school. He was in a band and it was really exciting. He smoked weed and my parents didn’t approve. Dating him was the first time in my teenage career that I felt cool.
We broke up when I went off to college and he stayed back to focus on his band. Six years later we ran into each other at the supermarket and he asked me out for a coffee. That was almost a year ago. We kind of just fell into our old routine and started dating again.
Aaron still dreamed of being a musician but he spent more time smoking weed and lying on the couch than he did writing music and playing guitar. He was still working at the same landscaping company that he did when he was in high school and he had no plans to make a move anytime soon.
We were dating for about eight months until it finally clicked this morning: He’s just a miserable person. He hates himself and he hates the world because he didn’t make it big. He’s depressed and he spent the past few months taking it out on me. He thought that he would be dating supermodels by now and touring around the world in private jets. He’s always thought that he’d be a star and I think he’s finally starting to realize that it probably won’t happen for him and he’s giving up on life. At least now I’m no longer tied to his sinking ship.
I’m ready for better. I deserve better. I deserve someone who doesn’t look at me in disgust.
Someone like Ethan.
“Are you a Carol Standings fan?” a heavyset woman with a big smile on her face asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Huge.”
“Me too,” she says, thrilled to find another fellow dork. “You know it’s crazy. I was reading that this morning and some guy who looks like he should be on the cover came up and offered me two hundred dollars for my book.”
“Wow,” I say, bursting out laughing. He does have his ways. “I would have sold my copy to him for a hundred.”
She leans in and whispers. “I would have given it to him if he let me touch his abs.” She leans back and bellows a deep laugh. “And I thought I was a big fan,” she says, walking away laughing. “Two hundred dollars.”
I can’t focus on the words anymore. I’m smiling too hard.
O
kay. There’s something there.
Losing Aaron won’t be too bad at all. I glance up at Stephanie the attention whore, on display in her little bikini shaking her tits and dancing like she’s on ecstasy in the Zumba class.
Those two fucking deserve each other.
“Where’s the suntan lotion,” Aaron blurts out, interrupting me at an exciting part of the book.
He stands in my sun with his hand out. No hi. No nothing.
“My suntan lotion is here,” I say, tucking it under my thigh. “You didn’t bring any.”
He reaches over me to grab it and I push his hand away.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asks.
It’s amazing how he can so easily hide the fact that his dick was in another girl only hours ago.
“I don’t know,” I say, tapping my chin with my finger and looking up. “Maybe the fact that you fucked Stephanie last night.”
He steps back in the sand and his face drops. “No, I did-”
“Oh save it,” I say, interrupting him. “I saw you two. We’re done.”
His face turns mean and his eyes narrow on me. “Whatever,” he says and walks away.
My body tenses up. That’s his feelings about our whole relationship wrapped up into one word: Whatever.
I step out of the hammock and wrap my sarong around my body. No. Someone likes looking at my body. I rip it off and stuff it back into my beach bag. It’s time to go find that guy.
Ethan is still in the chair where I left him. He’s still reading with his forehead scrunched up in concentration. He looks so cute reading such a girly book.
“I’m ready for that drink,” I tell him when I walk over.
He squints as he looks up and then smirks. “I just need to finish this chapter. I have to know what happens.”
I take a deep breath. “This is a small window of an opportunity. One that is closing fast.”
He tosses the book over his shoulder and jumps up. “Let’s go!”
We sit at a bar that overlooks the beach. The waves have picked up and there’s a group of kids laughing and screaming as they play in them. A seagull lands on the table next to us and glares at me. You can go to every corner of the globe and find three things: mosquitoes, seagulls, and taxes.
We order our drinks from the waiter and stare out at the soothing view. I can’t believe I’m on a date. Wait, is this actually a date?
The events of the past twenty-four hours flash through my head and I start laughing. The pamphlet said this is paradise but it feels a lot like hell.
“What’s so funny?” Ethan asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing actually.”
“Then why are you laughing?” he asks with a chuckle.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“Okay,” I say, rolling my shoulders and getting ready to unload on the poor guy. “My best friend of twenty plus years hung me out to dry and chose a…I’m sorry I know she’s your cousin…but a stupid, fucking, bitch as her maid of honor for no fucking reason. My boyfriend of almost a year just cheated on me with my best friend’s new best friend, again…I’m sorry…but your stupid fucking bitch of a cousin. So yeah nothing is really funny.”
“You’re right,” he says, rolling up a coaster in his hand. “I don’t understand.”
We pause as the waiter drops off our drinks.
“He cheated on you?” Ethan asks in shock. “God, he’s even dumber than he looks.”
He calls back the waiter. “I’ll take three more drinks.”
“Three?” he asks.
He points at me. “Two are for her.”
The waiter smiles, showing off his missing front teeth. “Nice,” he says, nodding.
I turn in my seat. “It’s not like that,” I call out to the back of his head but he doesn’t hear me.
Ethan leans towards me. “Start from the beginning. What happened?”
I tell him about finding the two of them after we parted last night, about the way Stephanie has been treating me lately and my relationship with Aaron. It just all seems to come out. He’s a good, attentive listener and I just feel comfortable around him. Plus I’ve been holding all of this in for so long. It feels nice to finally get it all out.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asks as I start my second drink.
I nod. “It’s funny but yeah. “It sucks that I paid for his ticket here and now I have to stay in the same room with him all week but I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. For months, I thought it was me and that I was doing something wrong, but now I see it.”
He furrows his brow. “See what?”
“He’s just an asshole.”
“A big one,” he says with a smile.
I take a long sip of my tequila sunrise until the ice cubes hit my teeth. I slide it across the table and grab my third drink before lunch. What? I’m on vacation.
“Thanks for getting a drink with me,” I say.
He holds up his glass. “Cheers.”
We both take a sip and he’s smiling as he places his drink down. “You know it’s not all bad news.”
“How do you figure?”
“We still have six days left,” he says, leaning closer to me. My pulse speeds up a few notches as I get ready to hear what I know is coming. “I have a large suite with no one to share it with. We can turn that frown upside down, and turn those legs upside down, over your head.”
I try to give him my most serious face but the alcohol is making it hard to do anything but smile. “You can’t be serious.”
He nods. Yup, he’s serious.
“You need a rebound. They call me Mr. Trampoline.”
I laugh so hard that the tequila sunrise that was in my mouth sprays on his arm. “You can’t be serious,” I say, wiping my chin.
“Oh I am,” he says. “Take off your shoes and climb aboard the Trampoline. It’s going to be a wild ride.”
The laughter keeps bubbling up out of me. “Could you be any cheesier?”
He just shrugs. “That usually works.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to meet the type of girls that that works on.”
He grabs the little umbrella from my drink and puts it in his mouth. He stares at me like I’m a puzzle that he hasn’t quite figured out how to put together. “It appears that I have to up my game with you. Challenge accepted.”
“I know that a broken hearted girl who was just cheated on should be easy pickings for you but I’m this close to swearing off men forever,” I say, holding up my thumb and finger an inch apart. “I’m thinking maybe a small house on the corner of the street, ten cats. That might be the new me.”
He holds up his drink. “Well let’s celebrate the departing of the old you with a bang. Literally.”
I bite down on my straw as I watch him drink. His lips are curled around the glass in an almost sexual way. His arms are looking fine in his black tank top. He’s got me thinking: Why. The. Fuck. Not?
It might salvage this shitty week.
Megan walks into the bar, looking like shit. She sees us and stumbles over. “Hey Ethan,” she says, not really looking at me. “Can I steal her for a second?”
“Just give us one minute,” he says. Megan nods and heads to the bar. She orders a bottle of water and gags as she sips it.
Ethan leans in close to me. “Look,” he whispers, touching my arm. “You don’t have to decide now. You don’t even have to decide tonight.”
He stands up off the bar stool and slips a key card into my hand. “But when you do decide, I’ll be waiting.”
Holy shit.
I could shove it back at his chest and refuse it, leave it on the table, but instead, I slip it into my beach bag. It might come in handy later.
He grins as I make it disappear.
“Am I ever going to get my underwear back?” I ask, biting on my straw.
“You’ll get it back when you’re ready to wear it for me. They’re mine. You’r
e never wearing them for anyone else.”
I raise my eyebrow. “How do you know I haven’t already?”
He smirks. “Because they’re not shredded to pieces. Any straight man who sees you in those would lose his mind and rip them to shreds.”
The thought of him ripping them off me to get at what laid hidden underneath makes my heart pump faster.
I hold my breath as he leans in close to my ear. Shivers cascade down my back from his warm breath on my neck. I can smell his cologne from last night mixed with the scent of his suntan lotion. “They’ll be waiting for you in my room whenever you’re ready to wear them for me.”
I answer with a gulp.
“Room 327,” he says. “Anytime.”
I sit there in stunned contemplation. “Thanks for the drinks.”
He winks. “Anytime.”
God, that guy. So tempting. So hot.
The two hostesses by the door smile at him as he passes. They crane their necks out the door and giggle together as they watch him walk away.
He could fuck both of them over the buffet bar and he chooses me. I don’t get it.
Megan stumbles over from the bar, looking like she spent the past week in a crack house.
I sing to her as she comes:
“Here comes the bride. Looking undignified.”
She smiles weakly but plays along.
“The guests are horrified. She’s contemplating suicide.”
“She drank some cyanide. The bathroom is occupied.”
“She puked up all her pride. Her shits are liquefied.”
“Alright, that’s enough.”
“Agreed.”
We laugh just like we used to. We’re always coming up with little rhyming songs like that, playing off each other. It’s just one of the weird things we do. Or used to do.
She collapses onto the stool and lowers her head to the bar as she groans like a dying baboon. “Did you bring me home last night?” she asks. Her voice sounds like she’s been gargling with sandpaper.
The bags under her eyes are as dark as a Whiskey bottle and her brown hair is a mess. “You really don’t remember any of it?” I ask.
