“I’m sorry?” She smiles and I tighten my grip on her arm.
“Did. You. Fuck. Him.”
One by one, she pries my fingers from her arm. “Well, that’s none of your business.”
“Stop with your bullshit,” I say through gritted teeth. “We had something—”
She tosses her head back on a sarcastic laugh before she looks at me, her eyes cold. “You fucked that up.”
Chris comes walking over like he’s carrying a load of bricks under his arms. He stares at me when he stops next to Marisa and flicks her hair. “Got a problem, Wild?”
“Nah, I don’t.” I glance at him with a smirk. “How’d my cock taste?” My eyes shoot over to Marisa before I turn around, walk back to the table, and swipe my beer. “I’m going to bed,” I tell the group before I storm off.
I hear a patio chair topple to the pool deck, high heels tapping over the concrete, and then Amy’s hand is slipping between my side and my arm, holding onto me. “Don’t just leave me,” she says.Fuck, she’s whiney.
“Look, you came to the signing, you saw what it was about... ” I turn and glance at her. Her face is crumpling and all hurt-looking. Just when I think I may cave and give into her, I hear Marisa’s girly-fucking-laugh float across the pool deck followed by Talon’s dumbfuck chuckle. “I just want to go to bed,” I say. “You drove, right?”
“Yeah,” she glances to the ground and I stick my hand inside my pocket pulling out the cash I made at the signing this afternoon.
I pull a bill lose and shove it at her. “Look, here’s a twenty for the valet, okay? Thanks for coming. It was great to see you.” And I kiss her on the forehead before turning and walking through the doors.
* * *
I’m staringat the ceiling, the warm, early morning sun washing across it. I haven’t slept worth a shit because I’m still pissed. I shouldn’t be pissed, but I am. Somehow, I fucked around and got attached to Marisa. It’s never bothered me when any of the other girls messed around with other guys, but with Marisa, it’s different. There’s this crazy buzz that surrounds her and it’s like crack. Addictive. Alluring. Something I’d likely overdose on if I could. I wipe my hands down my face and turn toward the window before crawling out of bed. The room feels like it’s closing in on me and I just need to get out. Take a walk. Clear my mind. So, I do. Straight down to the beach for a six am walk.
The humid, south Florida heat nearly suffocates me the second I step out onto the pool deck. The soft blues and pinks of the rising sun casts an unbelievable hue across the sand, the crooked white picket fence lining the walkway. Right now, the world looks like a painting. Too perfect to be true. The sand’s warm beneath the soles of my feet. I walk between the sea oats, and the second the ocean’s in view, I see Marisa sitting on the shore, her dark hair blowing in the early morning breeze. And that—thatlooks like a painting. My fucking heart tugs a little and I curse beneath my breath as I trod through the sand. When I stop behind her, she doesn’t look up. I know she sees my shadow.
“Hey,” I say, shoving my hands in my pocket.
“Hey.” She doesn’t move even though her hairs whipping across her face now.
Sighing, I plop down next to her in the sand. The tide rushes up, the water almost as warm as bath water as it bleeds underneath the soles of my feet. And, all of a sudden, I feel like a little kid again, writing my name in the wet sand. I’m uncertain, and that is a feeling I’d nearly forgotten about, especially when it comes to women. Funny, how quickly that happens—forgetting such an unwelcomed feeling. Marisa though, fuck, Marisa. If I’m honest, I’d have never even approached a girl like her before the books. She’s too pretty. Too confident. Too smart. She’s the girl I never could get way back when. And it’s not that I’m insecure... I’m Justin Wild... yeah, I’m Justin Wild... it’s just, I still don’t see myself as that guy everyone claims I am. Sure, it’s easy to be a confident dickfuck. It’s all just an act anyway. You can’t get hurt if you don’t let people know the real you. Meredith knew the real me. She hurt me. I learned my lesson there, but still, with Marisa, I give in because she is almost a carbon-fucking copy of myself. A prettier carbon-copy if such a thing exists, but our souls—I feel, for some reason, those are the same. Like maybe in another life we loved each other. Fucked up, I know.Come on, Justin you sound like a tool, why don’t you just tell her she’s your fucking lobster and get it over with, hang yourself with your 12-inch nerd rope.
“Look,” I say, “I’m... I’m sorry, okay. I just.” I sigh and brush my fingers over her back. “I’m not good at this shit, feelings and all that.”
“I thought I could do this with you,” she whispers, swatting angrily at the tears trickling down her cheeks. “I thought I could just, you know, fuck you. Have fun, I mean, I know you’re a player. I never meant to catch feelings for you.”
“Babe, come on, you have to know I have feelings for you, too?” I duck my head down and grab her chin, lifting her face. “Marisa, you have to know there’s something there, right?” She stares at me, and I swear to god, her eyes are about as blue as that fucking ocean right in front of me and just as deep. Just as deep... “God, I’m fucked up.”
“I just wish I wasn’tthatgirl, that’s what’s the worst. I’ve never been that girl.”
“What are you talking about.”
“The stupid girl.”
“Shit, you aren’t—”
Her eyes narrow and a slight laugh slips through her lips. “I’m not? So, there’s something different with me?”
“Of course there is.” I sweep my hand over her cheek and smile because I do feel something stirring deep inside my cynical little heart. There’s a bit of life she brings clawing its way to the surface, and no matter how hard I try to beat it back down, I can’t. “I told you that you were different.”
“Lines, Justin. I feel like that’s all a line. You are a romance author, after all. You’ve perfected the art of words.” She laughs. “If I’m honest, I think I fell for you long before I ever met you. I fell for your words.” She shakes her head. “How fucked up is that? Falling for a rock star, that seems like an idiotic thing to do, but, I’m starting to think that maybe falling for an author is a thousand times worse. They make a living from wooing you with their words, from making the most absurd lies believable.”
And... shit. The water washes up, the waves crashing in a foam at our feet as the sun peeks above the rugged horizon of white caps. “All I can say is, I’m sorry, and I don’t want to make you feel that way, and I most certainly don’t want to lose you.”
She stares at me. Her nostrils flare. Her pretty little eyes well with tears and all I want to do is kiss them away, right here under the rising sun, by the roaring ocean tides, because fuck, isn’t that something I would love to write in a book? It’s perfect, really, it is. And so, I lean in, the rough sand scraping against my leg as I take her face in my hand and pull her to me. “Kiss me,” I whisper, my lips brushing against hers.
A slow breath leaks from her lips before she slams her mouth over mine. I kiss her. She kisses me. Our tongues dance in an angry clash of resentment and fear and want and need. And when I tear away from her for a breath, I look in her eyes. “Stay until tomorrow?” I ask.
“My flight leaves at two.”
“I don’t care. I’ll buy you another ticket. I just want another day with you here.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, her cheeks blushing a subtle pink. “Okay... ”
I smile and wrap my arm around her shoulder. “You know, when I was a kid, my mom used to bring me to the beach all the time. We’d collect shells.” I laugh.
And we sit in silence, watching the tides rush in as the sun slowly creeps into the sky. If I could freeze this moment, I would because I feel peace, but I’m not stupid enough to think it will last. As much as I want love, well, I’m my own worst enemy.
