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Now, whenever I thought about Tyson Hunter, I felt like a naive little girl who had believed all the things that a pretty boy once told her. I used to wonder how I could have been so stupid and why I hadn’t seen that everything between us was only temporary instead of the permanence I so desperately wanted. But at the time, I’d truly believed that Tyson was my future. We used to be on the same page and wanted the same things. And then, overnight, everything had changed.
Literally.
It wasn’t like I’d spent the last seven years pining for the guy. I’d definitely moved on and dated other people, but Tyson always seemed to linger in the recesses of my mind. There were those constant what-if questions nagging at me.
What ifthings had been different?
What ifhe’d stayed?
What ifhe hadn’t gone on that audition at all?
Days like today, when our past consumed me, it made me a little sad and on edge. For years after the breakup, I’d convinced myself that we’d find our way back to each other when the time was right. I thought it was some sort of coping mechanism, mixed with a hopeful heart. At some point, I’d stopped believing in that particular fairy tale. If we were supposed to be together, then he would have at least reached out. And so far, he never had. Not one time in seven years.
Sometimes, the years felt like a blip on a radar, but mostly, they felt like an eternity. A piece of my life that had happened so long ago that it almost felt like fiction. It was more than enough time for me to get over the guy and sever whatever connection we’d once shared. But those two things proved to be much harder than I’d ever anticipated.
His smile haunted me at every turn, his face a constant reminder. Nowhere was safe. The convenience store, the freeway, bus stops, grocery stores, my phone, social media. Tyson was everywhere I looked, especially when I wasn’t looking, flashing that trademark grin.
It was the same one I used to catch him giving me back in college, his lips upturned into more of a smirk than anything else. I’d had that look memorized once. I’d thought he’d never stop giving it to me. That I’d never stop seeing it.
At least one of those assumptions was right.
Clenching my jaw tight, I shook my head, trying to make the old memories disappear like the scene in a snow globe, but it didn’t work. It was almost like my body could sense that Tyson was near somehow even though I knew that he wasn’t. The man couldn’t be in two places at once. And if he were in town, I doubted that he knew Greg. At least not enough to warrant an invite to his party. I was getting myself all worked up for no reason.
There was no me and Tyson anymore, and it was about time I got that through my thick skull once and for all. If only someone could give my heart the memo, maybe we could both finally let him go…
THE COSTUME
EVE
Afew hours later, my girlfriend JJ, a hairstyle and makeup goddess, showed up at my place to help me with my look. There was no way I would have been able to do my hair in any kind of cool style, and the last time I’d tried to do my own costume makeup, it’d looked like a four-year-old had drawn all over my face. I might have been able to see details in my head and bring them to life for parties and events, but I couldn’t draw by hand if my life depended on it.
I’d met JJ at a private event a few years back. She’d been hired by the same woman who had hired me, and we bonded instantly, each one of us admiring the other’s work. JJ exuded confidence, coupled with a punk rock look that suited her perfectly. She was a badass with empowering energy. It was just one of those things. We grew closer after realizing we only lived ten minutes apart, and neither one of us had a lot of girlfriends—at least not ones that we trusted.
Being a woman was hard enough, but being your own boss and running a financially successful company took it to another level. Other women didn’t always understand the sacrifices that needed to be made in order to succeed. Work would always come first for women like us, and that meant a lot of declined invitations and people feeling blown off. Eventually, they stopped asking. It got ugly at times. And it was definitely lonely.
JJ finished working her magic before spinning me around and letting me see what she’d done. Dark blue pieces folded seamlessly into my otherwise blonde hair. She’d added extensions that matched perfectly for a length I could never achieve on my own. I had what she affectionately called “bubble braids” cascading down each side of my body even though there were no braids in sight.
As for the makeup, I hadn’t wanted my whole face painted because I wanted to be somewhat recognizable when meeting potential clients. JJ did dark blue and white eyeliner, accenting a smoky look with Ahsoka Tano’s white markings on my forehead. I’d opted out of the cheek markings even though JJ said they’d be easy to do. It felt like too much.
“This is incredible,” I said, instinctively moving to touch my forehead before JJ swatted my hand away.
“No touching. You’ll ruin it. Close your eyes,” she demanded before spraying my face with some sort of super setting spray. “Once this sets, you won’t be able to mess it up as easily, but it can still be smeared, so be careful.”
“Okay. Thank you. It looks amazing.” I grabbed the picture of Ahsoka that I’d printed out and held it up next to my face as memories sparked without warning.
Tyson and me in his bedroom. The giant beanbag chair on the floor that we’d done so much more on than just sit. How he’d always plop down first, get the beads just right, before reaching for my body and pulling me onto his lap. My head on his chest. His arms wrapped around me. The feel of his hardness in my back as we tried to watch TV. How I’d always turn around and start kissing him, our tongues touching, our breaths catching, before he’d tell me we were about to miss a good part. Moments I thought would never end.
“I still can’t believe you’re dressing up as this,” JJ said as she rolled her dark eyes at me.
I struggled to catch my breath for a second. She hadn’t even noticed that I’d taken a quick mental vacation.
“Ahsoka? She’s the baddest bitch in all of Star Wars.”
“She can’t be the baddest bitch. What about Princess Leia?”
I waved her off. “You haven’t even watchedThe Clone Wars, so you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Because I’m a grown-up. Grown-ups don’t watch cartoon shows.”
