Chapter 2
Tai
Late spring slowly bleeds into early summer, and the weather is perfect for a road trip.
Warm wind rushes through the open windows and swirls around me, tugging at everything it touches.
My hair has slipped free from its usual high ponytail, whipping and dancing wildly in a chaotic tornado of black strands.
They’ll be a hopeless tangle later, but I realize I don’t care at all. I crank the volume knob until the music floods the car, and I sing along at the top of my lungs. My heart feels lighter than it has in months.
The wedding is in Southport, a coastal town just north of Myrtle Beach, which means a peaceful three-and-a-half-hour drive from Charlotte.
Sunshine pours through the windshield and heats my skin as I tilt my face toward the bright sky, watching fluffy white clouds drift lazily across the endless sea of blue.
The whole scene is picturesque, soothing the constant turbulence that usually churns in my mind.
This is exactly what I need.
Time away from my life.
Time to regroup.
The trip itself is pleasantly uneventful.
I pull up to the resort and sling my bag over my shoulder, taking in the elegant building rising in front of me.
The marbled, intentionally imperfect stone paired with wrought iron detailing gives the whole place a timeless, old-world charm, even though I know it was built only a few years ago.
It’s deliberately weathered in that way that screams expensive.
My cousin’s fiancé, Andrew, comes from old money, and they have clearly spared no expense when it comes to the accommodations.
I tried to argue that a full week was excessive, but I was shut down and then threatened with bodily harm when I offered to pay for my own stay.
Considering my cousin Cho is barely five feet tall, I’m not exactly trembling in fear.
The wedding is going to be huge, but the bridal party itself is relatively small.
Both Cho and Andrew are insistent on treating every one of us.
As I glance around at the vibrant grounds and the serene stretch of water sparkling beyond the main building, I realize this might actually be the perfect place to force myself to relax.
And not the usual kind of relaxing—curling up with a book for a few quiet hours or treating myself to a nice dinner. Right now I want something deeper. I want to forget who I am for a while, and part ways with all the stress of my life.
I want to leave myself behind.
Vines coil up the stone walls that frame the giant double wooden doors. The moment I step inside, a woman behind the front desk greets me with a cheerful smile that lights up her entire face. Another small sliver of stress slips from my shoulders.
“Good afternoon!” she says, her good mood never faltering.
I find myself grinning back. “Afternoon. I’m here as part of the Morris wedding party.”
“Oh, yes, of course!” Her fingers fly across the keyboard for a few quick seconds as she pulls up the reservation. “Name?”
“Hiyama… Tai.”
“Got you right here, Mr. Hiyama.” She continues typing while she runs through the amenities and hours. I only half pay attention, my mind already drifting. I’m ready for lazy days basking by the ocean or lounging in my room, pleasantly buzzed with a good book in hand.
“You’ve extended your stay for an extra four nights after the bridal party’s reservation?”
I nod in agreement. She punches in a few more details, then slides my keycard across the counter.
“There’s a note in here to pass along a message. The wedding party will meet for dinner tonight at six in the on-site formal restaurant. They’ve taken care of the RSVP, so I’m just supposed to remind you.”
A quick glance at my phone tells me it’s only two o’clock, which gives me plenty of time to unwind and stretch out before dinner. After thanking the woman and getting directions to my room, I head straight for the elevators and ride up to the fourth floor.
The room is comfortable and modern, decorated in soft creams and gentle sage greens.
There are two king-sized beds and floor-to-ceiling windows that frame a breathtaking view of the ocean.
My mind is already drifting as I drop my bag onto the nearest bed, the dull thud against the mattress the only sound breaking the quiet.
The cerulean water sparkles just beyond the glass, and I cross the room, slide the door open, and step out onto the balcony.
The scorching afternoon sun hits me instantly, wrapping around me like a heavy blanket.
I close my eyes and let the warmth wash over me, breathing deep as the cool breeze kisses my face and the distant crash of waves fills the air.
A few peaceful minutes slip by while I lean against the railing, letting the salty ocean scent fill my lungs.
I’m simply existing.
Here, the silence doesn’t feel oppressive the way it does at home.
Instead, it’s softened by the rhythmic splash of water and the occasional cry of seagulls overhead.
For once, I don’t have to fight against the heaviness of being alone.
My flaws seem to fade into the background, no longer important, and the constant weight of my loneliness lifts, if only for this moment.
I’m just me, and for the first time in months, it feels like enough.
I swap my sneakers for sandals, pocket my phone and keycard, and slip out the door.
The small trail leading down to the private beach is mercifully empty, and the white sand shifts and gives way beneath my feet.
I tug my shirt over my head and toss it over the low fencing, and my sandals follow.
A low groan escapes my throat the moment my soles hit the scorching sand, but I dig my toes in deeper, savoring the slight burn as I bury them.
The waves are chilly when I first step into the rolling tide, raising goosebumps along my limbs even though the air is hotter than usual for this time of year.
It’s too early in the season for the water to be anything more than lukewarm, but after a few minutes of walking along the shoreline, my body slowly acclimates to the temperature.
New words and the faint outline of a fresh melody begin to dance at the edges of my mind, teasing their way forward after months of silence.
It’s been far too long since music felt like an ally instead of another thing I couldn’t reach…
too long since it came to me for no other reason than we had simply missed each other.
Maybe that absence is exactly why the silence back home has grown so suffocating.
“I’ve missed you, old friend,” I whisper into the wind, and I swear a soft melody rides back to me on the breeze.
Scattered groups of people mill about the beach, their chatter nothing more than a distant lull as I stroll alongside the oceanfront.
Rows of resort lounge chairs, each stamped with the hotel’s logo, are neatly arranged just beyond the tide’s reach.
I drop into one, letting the heat of the sun dance across my closed eyelids while the breeze tousles my hair.
The warmth seeps deep, loosening every tight muscle until my limbs grow pleasantly heavy.
They twitch once, then twice, as my consciousness begins to drift.
The high-pitched, shrieking laugh of a child jolts me awake, and I rub the sleep from my eyes with a wide yawn. When was the last time I relaxed enough to actually fall asleep like that in the middle of the day?
My bare chest is flushed a deep pink. With a muttered curse, I press my fingers into the overheated flesh, watching the white imprint bloom back into color. By tomorrow it will definitely be a full-blown sunburn, but right now I can’t summon the energy to care.
My skin sticks slightly to the vinyl as I peel myself off the lounge chair and stand, stretching my arms overhead before taking one last leisurely walk through the lapping tide. Thankful that my shirt is still hanging where I left it, I slide it back on and make my way toward the building.
Dinner is quickly approaching, so I step into the tiled walk-in shower and rinse away the salt and sand.
Luxury soaps scented with mint and lavender line the shelves, and as soon as I crack them open the steam turns the entire bathroom into a spa.
I push the resort’s hair products aside and replace them with my own bottles.
My hair reaches my waist, so if there’s one thing I’m fiercely loyal to, it’s my conditioner.
The familiar scent of blueberry wraps around me as I work the product through my wind-tumbled strands, letting it sit while I wash the rest of the beach from my body.
Eric texts me as I climb out of the shower, checking to make sure I made it safely. Fully aware of how rude it is, I send back a quick thumbs-up, then silence my phone completely. Even that tiny reminder of home drags a thin splinter of stress back into my chest.
My hair is still damp when I change into loose linen shorts and a navy short-sleeved button-up.
It’s a far cry from my usual goth-chic wardrobe, and the distinction is a comfort.
After one final pass of the brush to tame the worst of the tangles, I leave it hanging loose down my back and settle onto the bed with a book.
Twenty minutes slip by before a sharp knock pulls me out of the story. I frown at the interruption, but the expression quickly fades when Cho’s familiar voice rings out from the hallway. “Open up, Tai! I know you’re in there. I saw your lazy ass sleeping on the beach earlier!”
I swing the door open to find her beaming face. She squeals and bounces on her toes before throwing her arms around me in a fierce, tight hug. Cho and I have been close our entire lives. She’s a few years younger than me, but she has always been the first to rush to my defense, no matter what.