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It feels like forever when we finally hit my floor and I give him one last nod before I start to push through the crowd.
I have to hurry to make it down the long hall to my room and then once I’m inside, I race to change. What does one wear to the spa? I didn’t pack that many clothes, so I decide on my yoga pants and a flowy tunic. I tie my blonde hair up into a messy bun, hoping that I get a private room at the spa.
I do my best to put Declan out of my mind as I get dressed and join the girls downstairs in the spa, because of course they didn’t wait for me. Thoughts of him keep popping up, though, despite my best efforts to think about other things.
The spa starts out well enough. The massage is nice and I’m in a room by myself with low lighting and soothing music. It’s the manicure part where things turn sour once again.
Taylor and Chloe complain about the color, even though they were the ones who picked it out, and cause such a scene that they get their manicures for free. I have to dip into my savings to pay, but I feel so bad that I leave a huge tip, enough to cover what they would have made from Taylor and Chloe.
“I’m so sorry about them,” I whisper as Taylor lets out a huff and yells for me to hurry up as she heads for the door.
I join them back at the elevator and have to listen to Taylor berate me the whole way up to our floor.
“This is my weekend, Emma. I’m sick of having to wait for you. I can’t believe my parents made me bring you on this trip with us. You’re just ruining it. You need to start being more considerate.”
I want to laugh and scream at her that I didn’t want come on this trip anyway, but I know that would only make things worse. I take a deep breath, assuring her that I’ll be ready for dinner in half an hour.
I enter my hotel room, wanting to just curl up on the bed and read. I know that would only enrage Taylor more, though, so I hurry through a shower before I pull on a dress and a pair of pink flats.
Eloise bought them for my birthday two weeks ago and I’ve been waiting to wear them on a special occasion since they’re so pretty. I can tell before I leave the room, however, that my feet are going to be killing me by the time the night is over, but I don’t really have any fancier shoes to wear. And if I try to change them, I’ll either be late or won’t look dressed up enough. Then Taylor will only treat me worse.
I trudge after everyone outside to the limo, wishing that I had taken a Tylenol when we climb inside and everyone starts to screech.
Champagne bottles are popped and I’m handed a glass. We toast to Taylor and Bryce, her slimy fiancé, who works as a used car salesman. We toast to their future, to her looking perfect on her wedding day, and to congratulate her on landing a wealthy husband.
I want to gag on that last one, but manage to hide it.
Bryce is the worst. He’s a total horndog and is sleazy and untrustworthy, if you ask me. He and Taylor have been together since high school. He was on the football team and when it became obvious that Declan, or any of the other star players for that matter, weren’t interested in her, she settled for Bryce.
She couldn’t wait to get engaged and I know that she’s been dropping hints about him buying her a ring. I wasn’t at all surprised when my mom told me Taylor was engaged.
Dinner is at some swanky place with portions so small that I want to cry. I’m looking for a fast food place as we leave, climbing back into the limo behind the others.
The girls have been drinking all throughout dinner, but it really ramps up when we hit the first club. I luck out because this place has some bar food. When Taylor isn’t looking, I order some soft pretzels, a burger, and fries, hiding in a booth eating while the other girls dance and do shots.
They keep pushing drinks on me, but I’ve never been much of a drinker. I can already feel the effects from the champagne and my one drink at dinner.
I’m just finishing off my burger when someone slides into the booth next to me.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” Declan says and I almost choke on my bite of food.
“Here,” he says, passing me an appletini.
The girls have been drinking appletinis all night and I take a big sip, trying to clear my throat.
“Hey,” I say when I can finally talk.
“Hey,” he says with a big smile.
What is he doing talking to me?
“Um… want some fries?” I ask, trying to break the silence.
He laughs, swiping a fry and dipping it into the ketchup before he pops it into his mouth.
“Not bad,” he says after he’s chewed and swallowed.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, looking around for a girlfriend or some big posse of groupies.
