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“Her fucking boyfriend is kissing another girl, Brock. What the hell do you expect me to do?” The thought is making me angrier than I can help.
“I don’t know, dude. But you don’t know their story. Maybe they broke up or they’re on break. Either way, I wouldn’t intervene in whatever the hell they have going on,” Hunter slurs.
I can’t just sit by and watch this freak of nature kiss another girl while Leia’s sitting in her room worried about herfuture. How could you let go of a girl like that?
If you’re an asshole, you can pretty much do anything without thought.
But this isn’t just any other girl we’re talking about. This isLeia. She’s way too important to me to let this go. The bastard is cheating on her, and I’ll be a sorry fucker if I just walk away from this. Hunter might have a point, though.
In what alternate universe are we living in whereHunterhas sound advice?
As sound as it is, I’m not sure how I feel about it.
LEIA
I so desperately need a life.
I spend way too much time studying and running track.You go to parties, idiot.If only parties were an indication of whether or not your social life was healthy. All it shows is that I give in to peer pressure. Seriously, something’s got to give.
I turn eighteen in two months. Two months. I will finally be an adult. At least I’m older than my friends. But I just feel like a child still. Which is odd, because I’m never able to have as much fun as a child since I’m always busy. But nonetheless...I don’t know, I just feel like...a little girl. The fact that I have no boobs doesn’t really help my case, either. My only redeeming quality is definitely my ass. Most guys aren’t ass guys, though.Are they?From what I’ve seen—and even heard—It’sallabout the boobs.
“What are you up to, honey? I haven’t seen you since June,” my mom chirps over the car speaker.
I’m on my way back from a scrimmage at St. Mary’s campus when my mom calls me. She goes on to talk more, but I can’t hear anything past ‘June.’ She’s ruffling papers over the phone to the point where I can’t focus on her.
“Mom, I’m sorry, but I can’t hear what you’re saying.” She laughs in embarrassment, and the ruffling of papers stops. I can’t help but chuckle. It’s like talking to my grandma. “What were you saying?”
“I was just asking when we’re gonna see you for your birthday? You’re turning 18! And we want to see our baby.”
I love my parents, but I hate when they refer to me as a ‘baby.’ Thatdefinitelydoesn’t help my case. They’re my parents, though. And I can’t make them stop seeing me as their ‘baby.’
“I didn’t really have plans for my birthday. I think I might have a meet, but I would have to double-check my calendar.” IhopeI don’t have a meet on my birthday.
“You should come home for your birthday! Make it a hybrid birthday-Thanksgiving trip?”
That actually sounds like a great idea. I’d kill two birds with one stone if I did it that way. It’d be hella awkward, though. An eighteenth birthday with myparents? Not to sound cliché, but that doesn’t sound like thebesttime. I love my parents, don’t get me wrong. But it just feels strange toonlyspend a milestone birthday with yourparents.
“I don’t know, Mom. Can we talk about this another time? I’m on my way back to campus right now.”
I give her a kiss goodbye and hang up, needing space to think. I feel like everyone is smothering me right now, and I just need space to myself.
Instead of heading back to campus, I take a right turn down the Pacific coast. The sunset shines through my rearview mirror. I drive up to the closest beach to campus. As I hop out of my car, I walk up to shore and look over the water.
This is where I want to be.This is my happy place.
Ever since I moved to California when I was little with my parents, I fell in love with the beach. That was the first place I went once we touched down in the golden state.
The weather is amazing, and it’s never too crowded in the afternoon. The only people nearby are the surfers cleaning up to leave and a few people walking their dogs. Other than that, it’s peaceful. I slip off my slides and walk closer to the water.Thank God for water.Really. The ocean is so beautifully made. The water touches my toes, and it feels amazing. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
“Nick! Come here! Isn’t the sunset beautiful?” Nick’s name breaks me from my thoughts.
I look around the beach to find out where the voice is coming from. I’m almost shocked when I see Nick holding hands with the same blond girl from his last villa party.
Stephanie. I would be more surprised...if I hadn’t seen this coming. The last conversation we had was an argument over the phone. By then, I thought we’d made up. But I guess not. I can’t help the tears forming in my eyes or the anger that I have building inside.I hate Nick Swanson.
Because I’m clearly a masochist, I watch as he leans in and kisses her. I’m such an idiot for not realizing sooner. Ofcoursehe’s cheating on me with her. Look at her. She’s every guy’sdream:blond, ocean eyes, busty, golden tan.She has the entire California girl package. And then there’s me...permanentlytanned, brunette, brown eyes, athletic body. Guys around my age don’t even seek out a girl with my body type. I don’t know why I thought Nick would be any different. He’s just an All-American boy, looking for an All-American girl. I may act like an All-American girl, but I by no meanslooklike one. This feelingsucks.
Hoping they don’t see me, I walk back to my car and watch them from there. They walk on the beach, hand in hand, looking happier than ever.
