Chapter 3
Willa
I had the best day at the animal shelter. I spent hours walking dogs, throwing balls, filling food and water bowls, and just loving on the animals.
And trying to forget the handsome stranger from the coffee shop.
But that was impossible to do since Maggie wouldn't stop bringing it up. As a professional who works with animals on a daily basis, Maggie reminded me that I got lucky that I wasn't mauled by his German Shepherd. As my best friend, she teased me unmercifully about the encounter. According to her, I stared at the man for at least a minute in awkward silence and by the time I made it inside the coffee shop, I was as red as a tomato.
Unfortunately, I don't think she's exaggerating on either count.
After a hard day's work and a leisurely dinner at a local seafood restaurant, we're strolling back into the lobby of my hotel. With my arm looped with hers, I lean my head onto Maggie's shoulder.
“I had fun today, Mags. Thanks.”
“I did too. It’s good to have you back in town.”
“It’s good to be back.”
“Do you have any idea of how long you’ll stay in town? I’m sure your parents and brothers are thrilled to have you close by again.”
“They are. Mum is pissed that I’m not staying with them, but the idea of staying in my childhood bedroom as an adult feels strange. I like my space and my privacy.”
“Hotel room service is a bonus too. As is the mini bar. Though your mom’s crumpets are the best.”
“Agreed. My parents’ anniversary party is next week, so I’ll stay for at least a week, maybe longer." Rolling my eyes, I add, "It all depends on how irritating and suffocating my brothers are and how pushy my mum is about my dating life.”
Being the only daughter with four older, very protective brothers gets tiresome quickly. They often forget that I’m twenty-seven, not seven. Only one of my four brothers is married. The other three are single and have shown zero interest in settling down or having children. So, the familial pressure for me to marry and start spitting out kids is fierce. Honestly, I’d love to do that too. If only it was that easy.
Unfortunately, my mum doesn't understand how difficult it is to date in Hollywood. She's convinced that I can snap my fingers and have a string of eligible bachelors lining up to date me. I probably could, but I’m picky and I want to find love, not waste my time dating men who are either uncomfortable with my level of success and fame or who only want to be with me to gain more exposure and further their own careers.
In my experience, the more successful a woman is, the smaller her dating pool becomes.
"Yes, let's talking about your dating life."
"Let's don't, Mags."
"But manifesting worked, and you met a very hot guy this morning," she starts. "Like, GQ cover model hot."
"Maggie," I whine. "I didn't meet a man. I met his dog. Totally different. Besides, I don't even want to meet a man, nor do I want to talk about this."
Throwing up her hands, she grouses, “Ugh, fine. I'll let that topic go for now, but at some point, we'll circle back around to it." She pauses. "I know you've been working on yourself, but it wouldn't hurt to be open to dating, Willa."
"I'm not not open to it. I'm just…" I trail off as I contemplate how to explain it. "I guess, I'm simply scared and nervous. I'm finally getting my shit together. Opening myself up to someone new could bring a lot of my issues back to the surface."
"In the wise words of some philosopher, what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." She twists her head to the side. "Or was that Kanye West?"
"You're so wise, Mags, so wise," I tease with a hint of a smile. "I think Friedrich Nietzsche said it a few years before Kanye."
"Whatever. Want to hit the hotel bar for one more drink before we call it a night?” Maggie suggests through a muffled yawn.
“I’m down for another drink. Let’s take them out to the water’s edge. We can sit in the sand and listen to the waves crash.”
“Sounds perf. I’ll grab our drinks and meet you out there,” Maggie offers.
Nodding gratefully, I slide off my socks and tennis shoes and traipse through the sand to a nice spot on the beach. With the dwindling resort lights at my back, I settle onto the sand. The peaceful lapping of the ocean waves lulls me into a contemplative mood.
A few minutes later, Maggie appears with a bottle of wine and two plastic cups.
Taking a steadying breath, I reach for Maggie’s hand, giving it a squeeze, as I shoot her a tremulous smile. It’s all catching up with me. Knowing what tomorrow is, I've stayed busy, but I can't keep busy enough to ever fully forget about it.
The anniversary of the very bad thing that happened .
Tomorrow marks two years.
For the umpteenth million time, I wonder what my life would look like if I could rewind time and alter the past. If it had never happened. If I'd changed even one thing, would things have worked out differently. Or was it simply an inevitability, my fate. My burden to bear.
As much as I know not to blame myself, I can't help but do just that.
My eyes fill with tears, but I blink them back. I’ve shed my bodyweight in tears over the past two years, and I refuse to cry anymore.
At least, not tonight.
Nudging my shoulder, Maggie chastises me, “Stop it. You’re not doing that. Your life is good, or good-ish, as you said earlier. You can't change the past, babe. Focus on the future. Remember, we're manifesting good things, like meeting hot guys in coffee shops."
She isn’t being cold or callous. Earlier, I made her promise that we wouldn’t spend my time in Saltside moping and sad, so Maggie is merely following through with her promise.
“In fact, I think we should chug our drinks and play truth or dare.”
“We aren’t twelve, Maggie.” I smile, reminded of the countless rounds of truth or dare that Maggie and I have played together over the years. “But you’re on.” Raising my glass to my lips, I reply, “On the count of three. One, two, three!”
Oh, God. This was a mistake.
Lukewarm white wine is never good, but it verges on being truly disgusting when it’s chugged. However, having four older brothers means that I was raised in a competitive household, so I keep swallowing the liquid until my cup runs dry. Slamming my empty cup into the sand, I holler in victory when I see that Maggie isn’t even halfway finished.
For some unknown reason, she’s pinching her nose as she daintily swallows little gulps of wine. When she shoves down an exaggerated gag, I bark out a laugh. She’s always been such a prissy lightweight. She wouldn’t have lasted a week in the Radford household.
“My turn first since I won. So, truth or dare, Maggie?”
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Maggie grimaces. “Dare.”
“I dare you to bring a date to my parents’ anniversary party.” Over dinner, Maggie confessed to carrying a torch for one of her co-workers, Kevin. I met him today and he seems like a great guy. So, I’m hoping my dare will be the push she needs to make a move.
“Done,” she sasses with an innate confidence I wish I possessed. With a brow quirked, she asks, "Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"In ninth grade, did you really kiss Lucas in the closet during Brynn's birthday?"
I throw back my head with a laugh. "No, I really didn't," I respond with an indulgent shake of my head. "I can't believe you brought that up twelve years later."
Maggie had a multi-year crush on Lucas Davenport during high school. When we played spin the bottle at Brynn's fifteenth birthday party and I had to go into the closet with Lucas, presumably to make out, Maggie had been devastated. But I hadn't kissed him. I couldn't do that to Maggie, so Lucas and I simply whispered for a couple of minutes while we were locked in the closet.
Maggie shrugs, "Just checking. Not that I'd blame you if you had. Lucas was hot."
Our game continues as we switch back and forth asking questions, giving dares, and reminiscing about our shared pasts.
"Truth or dare?” Maggie asks over the rim of her cup as she finishes off the last of her wine.
I lift the bottle to top off our cups only to find the bottle empty. How did we finish it already?
I scoff. “Dare. Obviously.”
“Please, Radford. Don’t act like you didn’t just choose truth the first seven times we played this game tonight,” my best friend teases me as we lie on the sand, luxuriating on the moonlit beach, blitzed out on booze.
She’s got me there. But now that I have more alcohol than I do blood in my system, I’m feeling braver. “Shut up and give me my dare, Mags.”
“Go skinny dipping.”
“Now?” My eyebrows shoot to meet my hairline as I sit up hastily. “In there?” I point dumbly towards the ocean.
Maggie nods with a wicked grin.
I’m not a prude. I don’t really care if anyone sees my naked body, but I have enjoyed staying out of the press these past few months. I’d hate for that streak to end, pun intended, because someone gets photos—or worse, videos—of me skinny dipping.
I can already see the headlines in the tabloids.
Starlet Caught Skinny Dipping.
Sun’s (Not) Out, Buns Out!
Willa's Nude Night Swim!
But a dare is a dare.
“Why are you my best friend again?” I grumble as I stand, dusting off the sand from my clothes. Reluctantly, I slide off my zip-up jacket and tank top, leaving me in only a sports bra to cover my upper torso. "Do you know how hard it is to take off a sports bra gracefully?"
"Quit your complaining and lose your pants next then."
With an irritated huff, my hands slip under the waistband of my leggings, and I push them down my legs. When I get them to my ankles, I lift one foot, hopping awkwardly, as I pull at the tight leggings when I hear a familiar voice yell out.
"Bruno, no!"
Before I can even lift my head toward the sound of that smooth voice, I'm knocked off my feet by a black ball of motion and I land with an oomph on my back in the sand. Dazed, I open my eyes and find the same German Shepherd from the coffee shop standing over me with his tongue hanging out.
If dogs could smile, then I swear he was smiling down at me ornerily. Then he starts sniffing and licking my face as I laugh and attempt to push him off me.
"Jesus Christ, Bruno! I said no. Heel, Bruno," the exasperated man yells as he runs up behind his unruly dog. "Heel, damn it!"
Maggie laughs, playfully chiding the handsome stranger. "May need to send Bruno for a few more obedience classes."
"I swear, he's fully trained. He never acts this way. I'm not sure what's gotten into him. I'm so sorry. I hope he didn't hurt you." The man drags Bruno off me and then offers me his hand. There's a startle of recognition when he sees me. "It's you. From the coffee place earlier."
With a nod, I confirm his statement.
Placing my hand in his, he pulls me upright and I feel a tingle of excitement zip through my body at his touch. Once I'm on my feet, he doesn't immediately drop my hand, and I feel a thrumming under my skin that grows stronger, and harder to ignore, by the second.
It's been way too long since I had sex.
This self-imposed celibacy is asinine.
I'm bordering on delusional and desperate if touching a man's hand is enough to turn me on.
But then I look up at him, and his face is frozen. His eyes are open wide, blatantly perusing my body. He swallows roughly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.
Holy shit, maybe I didn't imagine it. He felt the electricity flow between us too.
Then Maggie bursts my bubble, whispering with glee, "Pull up your pants, babe."
Shit. Fuck. Damnit!
In the melee of being tackled by Bruno, I'd forgotten that my pants are at my ankles, leaving me clad in only a thong and a skimpy sports bra.
Maggie cackles at my embarrassment over my predicament because she can. If she got caught on the beach in her underwear, the news would set tongues a-wagging in our small town, but if I get caught doing that, it would be all over social media by morning.
I hope to God that my movies aren't popular in whatever country he's from, so he won't recognize me.
“I apologize for our intrusion," a second man, who I hadn't even noticed says politely as he averts his eyes and grabs Bruno's leash. "And for Bruno's unseemly behavior."
“The only thing you interrupted was a game of drunken truth or dare,” I explain hastily, keeping my face down, as I yank up my leggings and slip my jacket back on, zipping it up all the way to my neck.
Please don’t recognize me.
Nodding, Maggie adds unhelpfully, "Yep, I dared her to go skinny-dipping."
"Maggie!" I hiss as both men laugh at my embarrassment.
"Now I'm only sorry that we didn't stumble upon you a minute later," the man from the coffee shop replies. "That's a sight I wouldn't mind seeing."
His words should come off as smarmy, but they don't. If anything, he sounds appreciative. When my hesitant gaze meets his molten one, my breath freezes in my chest.
Is he… is he flirting with me?
“Well, again we apologize for the intrusion. Goodnight, ladies.”
As the men walk off, Maggie watches their retreating backs as I lift my face to the heavens, begging God to make the ground open up and swallow me whole.
"Well, that was mortifying," I grumble.
"I don't know." Shifting her eyes towards mine, she murmurs speculatively, "You do realize he must be staying at the resort too."
FML. I squeeze my eyes shut in embarrassment.
"And I think he might be into you."
One eye pops open. "You think?" I ask hopefully.