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Questions bounce around my head as I walk the winding concrete path.
The hotels are alive. Bright. Romantic.
The world is couples. Two people sharing mai tais at the bar, leaning over the candlelight, staring into each other’s eyes.
Jumping in the pool.
Kissing under the moonlight.
I walk until the trail ends.
A cliff hangs over the beach in imposing browns. It screams climb me, I d
are you. You won’t survive. I’ll throw you into the ocean, drown you, smash your body to pieces against the rocks.
It’s gorgeous.
Dangerous.
Intoxicating.
The shining stars promise hope.
But they’re bullshit.
It’s all bullshit.
It’s not enough that she loves me.
It’s not enough unless I love her back.
I want to.
Fuck, maybe I do.
But that word…
It’s still a knife in my chest.
Penny and I traded I love yous every day, without fail. That last year, when she was done with me, she still stared into my eyes and cooed I love you.
And I whispered it back.
But it was bullshit.
She didn’t love me.
And I… did I still love her?
I know what that feels like, that twisted, rote I love you, but the real thing?
I don’t have a fucking clue.
Is it the couple walking hand in hand along the beach, laughing as they dip their toes in the surf, kissing under the moonlight?
Is turning over every little detail? The berry shade she wears on her lips. Her purple hair twirling around her finger. The chipped silver polish on her nails.
The sound of my name on her lips.
