"What about life?" She turned to me and waited for the answer. The happiness bled out of her eyes, the warmth of the honey sapped away, leaving a worn, dismal mahogany behind. Her stare was cavernous, holding secrets behind layers I wanted to see, to learn, to experience.
When I didn't reply, she lowered her gaze and grabbed her daiquiri. "See ya on the flip side, Mr. Stonewood."
I didn't respond to her trying to end our encounter. I followed her instead. She wove through the crowd and we passed a few tables and chairs in the reception area.
She jumped when she glanced around and saw me standing behind her. “What are you doing?”
“Following you.”
“I’m aware. You held up your end of the bargain. We’re done playing now. You can go be all dreary somewhere else.”
“Why did you ask me if life is worth the hassle?”
She focused on a table covered in a milk white cloth in front of her. Her bubblegum pink lacquered nails ran over the linen, working out the wrinkles. “Well, there are a lot of obstacles.”
I nodded, but she continued watching her own efforts to iron out every flaw in the tablecloth.
“Like love, life has hurdles. Peaks and valleys. It’s give-and-take. It’s a freaking feat just to live. And to love ... that deserves serious recognition. So, I wondered what you thought of it all being as pessimistic as you are.”
“I’m not pessimistic. I’m realistic.”
She peered at me, through me, into something so much greater than me. “And isn’t reality the saddest thing there is?”
She waited for my answer with a different type of smile. It didn’t spread across her face, and it didn’t light the room. She concealed sadness behind it, and she crossed her arms over her chest like she wanted to keep that sadness locked up and hidden from everyone.
“You’ve been buzzing around this beach like a little pixie, excited to be a part of reality. Now it’s sad?”
“I push the bounds of reality to be happy. You have to fight for joy.”
I sneered at the ridiculous answer. “You don’t change it, Pixie. Reality is what it is. It’s all we’re given.”
A piece of her hair had fallen loose, and she moved her manicured hand to push it behind her ear without answering me. Her somber movement and the way she heaved a sigh fascinated me. Her plump lips parted, and her tongue wet her lips. She ran her gaze up and down my body and those eyes warmed up again.
Her silence hovered in the air, making me wonder exactly what she was thinking. Something had shaken her enough that we’d moved past her default happy personality. I wanted to unravel her and find out what was behind her facade.
“Reality is reality,” I continued. "Get lost in it with me?”
She tilted her head. I didn’t wait for an answer from her. I walked toward the hotel rooms.
I heard the clicking of her heels behind me and knew that even with the copious amounts of alcohol I drank that night, I would not forget my time with her.
3
Vick
Alcohol wasn’tto blame for me following Jett on Brey’s wedding night.
He spoke of reality, and it jarred me into wanting to experience something other than happiness.
Jett was the epitome of the reality I didn’t focus on. I focused on flowers, sunshine, rainbows, and holidays. He focused on mud, darkness, rain before the rainbow, and probably memorials instead of holidays.
He lived in the dark while I lived in the light.
Opposites attract, though, and I was curious as to how the other side lived.
I was also a little tired. Tired of trying not to be jealous of the love Brey and Jax had, tired of not having a date myself. I was so tired of searching for Mr. Right at a wedding when Mr. Wrong was right in front of me.
Jett could barely smile when he danced with me. Still, he could dance, and he could turn me on just as much or more than any nice guy I was going to run into.