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HANNA
20 Years Old
Karly pulls her heart-shaped sunglasses down her nose, "You gonna sulk the entire day?"
"I am not sulking."
"Are too," She teases, grabbing margarita mix out of the cooler, pouring me a drink. It's still a little cold, but we decided a beach day is what we both needed. It's the twentieth time she's dumped her boyfriend, and he actually moved his stuff out this time.
"Here," She pushes the red solo cup into my hand, and I eye it intently, knowing that I can't drink it.
"I don't want this," I cringe, handing it back to her, "You drink it. You need it more than I do."
She shrugs, pulling the cup to her lips, downing it quickly, "You're right. I can't believe he actually left."
Ashton is such a douchebag. He is a watered-down musician who can barely sing. He thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread, though. I could barely sit through his sets without wanting to bang my head against the table. All of his music was so whiney, and the lyrics were the shittiest poetry I've ever heard.
Apparently, his band got a record deal, and the second he signed the paperwork, he left Karly for good. Loading up his douchey bandmates in the back of his van and heading for Los Angeles. A blessing in disguise, really, she'll see one day.
She lays back into her beach chair, her long auburn hair cascading in waves over her shoulders, "Ash is supposed to call me when he gets there. I wanted to at least know he made it."
"Blah, no! Don't answer the damn phone, Karly. You can do so much better than that wannabe asshole."
She laughs, "Thanks babe, maybe you should take your own advice."
I don't respond, my mind floating to Jameson, whom I haven't spoken to in two months.
He packed up his life here and left. Went straight to basic cadet training at the Air Force Academy or whatever. No explanation. No conversation. Just gone.
I've kept in touch with Blakely but being around Judson is hard for me. They have different fathers, but their features are similar, and it's like looking at Jameson ten years in the future. It's too hard.
A guy walks up, picking a volleyball up off the sand that rolled into Karly's chair, "You know I don't typically care for the color yellow, but I'm rethinking that right now."
I glance down at Karly's neon yellow bikini, her D cup boobs perfectly displayed in the top. Ugh, she makes me so jealous.
"That's the best pickup line you could conjure up in that head of yours?" I question. Karly's brow raises in my direction.
The guy darts away with his tail tucked between his legs.
Good, I sneer. She doesn't need some one-nighter with a Ken doll in swimming trunks up past his knees. I roll my eyes.
"What was that?" She huffs, "Cockblocker."
I shrug, pulling my water bottle to my lips, "Saving you from another Ashton."
"Let's find you a guy," she glances around the beach, "It will do you good to get underneath someone new."
Ugh, no. I don't sleep around. I only sleep with Jameson.
Well, slept. Past tense.
Not that it matters much right now, I'm not having sex with anyone.
"No, Karly."
"Come on, what about him?" She asks, eyeing a guy down by the water, walking his chocolate lab.
I barely notice him, watching as he bends down to grab the frisbee, Karly's voice breaking the silence, "I'll call him over."
