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Chapter One
Ariana
I stare at the boarding gate wondering how the hell it all came to this.
How is this my life?
Maybe if I keep asking myself the same dumb question, I might get a better answer.
I tap my ticket on my knee aimlessly, knowing full well that this bleak situation isn’t going to get any better. So screw it, I may as well get shitfaced and enjoy the fact I’ve got two weeks’ vacation, champagne on ice, and definitely no boyfriend in tow.
I plonk myself down at the bar and order a glass of their finest sparkling concoction, then I wait what feels like eons to board the plane to my lovely vacation in the sun that I booked and paid for six months ago.
My fuckwit ex screwed up this whole trip, hence why I’m going on it alone.
I caught him cheating a few months ago and kicked his ass to the curb. I might be many things, but I’m not a sap, and I had no desire to hear him out.
James wasn’t the guy I thought he was, though they never are.
He was smart, sweet, and deliciously attractive, always wearing a suit and works in finance. I’m not usually into guys like that; I prefer them a bit rough and rugged, but he was charming,verycharming, and I fell for him. Which just goes to show you how naïve a person can be.
Never judge a book by its cover.I should have remembered that little ditty from my first grade teacher. That will teach me to be so smug.
Things were great, until they weren’t. We’d been dating for almost six months, and though we had our ups and downs, I thought things were solid. I dumbly thought we were going places, but turns out James liked to dib his nib in the office ink and then some.
Anything in a skirt, according to some.How could I not have seen the signs?
It turns my stomach to think of what was going on behind my back.
He wasn’t the type to grovel, but he said he was sorry and that he didn’t love what’s-her-name. He claimed that he wasn’t thinking straight, and when that didn’t work, he tried the blame game.
Of course, it was all my fault. I was too busy, too tired, too whatever to give him the attention he needed. What about the attention that I fucking need?
I throw half the champagne down my throat furiously in one gulp.
I was so done with his shit, I gave all his expensive Armani work shirts to charity and threw the rest of his belongings off my balcony. Sayonara. Anything of his flew out onto the street. Granted, I’m only three floors up, so there was no risk of hurting anyone below. It really was a sweet moment, probably not my finest hour, but sweet all the same.
I love seeing a grown man cry over a smashed apple mac. So worth it.
No matter what he thinks of me, I would never cheat on or lie to someone. Not ever.
I’m also not docile or inclined to blame myself over his misgivings. I have a stronger backbone than that, but a part of me wonders why I keep attracting these types of men.
Since I prepaid for this trip on my credit card months ago, it was too late to get a refund on the flights or the accommodation. And I wasn’t about to stay at home and lick my wounds.
So, Cancun Mexico, here I come.
Pathetically alone.
Pathetically single.
Pathetically pathetic, really.
None of my friends could get the time off work, and to make matters worse, I have my birthday while I’m away, so I’ll be celebrating spectacularly alone.
Best fucking birthday ever.
Twenty-eight, here I come.
