Skyler
“Shot ski! Shot ski! Shot ski! Shot ski!”
You would think it’s Spring Break instead of a family holiday weekend by the amount of twenty-something year olds gathered around the pool at La Rose Roja Resort.
The girls and I were all pleasantly surprised to find it so packed and happening when we arrived yesterday, the resort employees handing us our first fruity cocktails.
And the party has raged on ever since.
As to be expected, we nearly blacked out on our first night, not even bothering to get all dolled up to go out. We just got to our penthouse, freaked the fuck out over what Brandon had set up for us, and then promptly changed into our swimsuits and went down to the pool party.
After that, things got a little fuzzy.
A few things I remember…
One, Jess dancing on the bar during a wet t-shirt contest and winning easily when she decided the wet t-shirt was just getting in the way, so she stripped it up over her head.
Two, Cassie and Ashlei making a giant, teetering pyramid out of beer cans, stealing empties from every guy and girl alike to add to their masterpiece. They let out a victorious cheer when it finally got so big that it crashed to the ground and half of it ended up in the pool.
Three, Erin letting loose more than I’d seen her since maybe my freshman year of college.
She took shots and danced in the pool, and even played along with some guy who’s here for a bachelor party and needed to get a girl to ride around on his shoulders to knock an item off their scavenger hunt list.
And four — yet another text from Kip lighting up my phone, haunting me even through my buzzed haze.
Where are you?
Maybe it’s self-preservation, how I’ve ignored every message from him since that night he called me to apologize. He told me to hold onto him, but inside, I know I have to do the opposite.
I have to let him go.
So I’ve been focusing on school, on Kappa Kappa Beta, on my new Grand Little, on my meetings with the guidance counselor to figure out where I’m going after graduation.
I’ve ignored every call, every how are you, I miss you, are you okay, where are you, please call me that he’s sent.
Being out of the country with my best friends has made it easier to do so — well, as easy as letting Kip Jackson go can be, at least.
Which is to say, it’s slightly less torturous.
Now, it’s day two of our trip, and after a successful morning brunch, afternoon of relaxing by the pool, and evening of massages — we’re back for round two, the sun setting over the resort, bass thumping from the DJ’s booth perched over the pool.
Erin, Cassie, and Jess have a shot ski in their hands — an old wooden ski painted with the resort’s colors and fitted with shot-glass-sized holes that now host a full mouthful of tequila.
It takes precision to get the shots lined up with each of their mouths and to pour them down without spilling all over someone, but they pull it off — to the roaring approval of the crowd.
When they finish, Erin holds the ski over her head in victory, and then someone at the resort is taking it from her and carrying it to the back to wash it and no doubt line it up for the next victims.
“I’m drunk,” Cassie slurs, slinging her arm around my neck.
“Easy, Little — it’s only nine.”
“Come dance with me,” she says instead of acknowledging how young the night is, but I oblige her, letting her take my hand and drag me to the shallow end of the pool right in front of the DJ.
Everything is warped and blurry, not because I’m drunk, but because that’s just the state of being I’ve existed in since Kip and I fought last semester. It’s like being half-frozen, half-numb, like a dream where you’re underwater and try to punch something but can’t.
My hands are up in the air, hips swaying to the rhythm, eyes closed and lights coloring my eyelids green and blue and pink and purple as we dance.
But inside, I’m sitting alone in a dark room, staring at the ceiling.
Existing.
Cassie finally decides she needs water, and we make our way through the crowd and over to the VIP booth that comes with our penthouse rental. It’s got three massive day beds and two dedicated servers to bring us alcohol or food — or water, which is very much needed in this moment.
Jess and Ashlei are kicked back on one of the day beds, lost in conversation, and Erin is somewhere still dancing in the pool when Cassie and I slip through the roped-off entryway.
I can’t help but smile at the sight of Ashlei in her all-white bikini, the gold sash across her chest reading brIDE-TO-BE — except to be is scratched out and ALREADY is written in Sharpie above it. Even with her arm in a sling, she’s radiant, glowing only the way a new bride can.
Bride.
She’s married.
As if the thought has just finally sunk in, I wrap her in a fierce hug as soon as I’m inside our little area, and she giggles, squeezing me in return.
“You’re married,” I whisper in her ear.
“I know. How crazy is this?”
“Insanely crazy. Also, insanely amazing.”
She nods when I pull back, her eyes glossy. “I love that rich bastard.”
I bark out a laugh. “I know.”
“Oh, here,” Jess says when I’m standing again. She tosses my phone to me before I’m prepared to catch it. It bobbles a little in my hand before I grip it tight. “That thing has been blowing up.”
I frown, looking at the dozen missed call requests on the screen. They’re from a number I don’t recognize, an area code I’ve never seen before.
I chew my cheek, wondering if it’s Kip trying any means necessary to get ahold of me. I can’t think of anyone else it would be.
“Just call him back,” Erin says from over my shoulder.
I jump, not realizing she had joined us, and she gives me a knowing smile as she squeezes my arm.
“Hear him out. Even if your choice is still the same and you think it’s over, you at least owe it to him to put him out of his misery and make sure he knows that’s your decision, too. ”
My mouth tugs to the side, stomach roiling at the thought of ever saying those words, at ever officially admitting that we’re done. But I nod, letting her know I hear her.
And then I grab my bag and tell the girls I’ll be back in a bit, disappearing through the hotel lobby doors.
It’s a quiet ride up the elevator, though I can still hear the music thumping on when I make it to our suite.
It’s absolutely massive, three bedrooms and a huge sitting area finessed with the finest furniture and interior design.
There’s a fireplace and an infinity plunge pool that has the illusion of hanging off the deck and over the ocean below, as well as an expansive balcony, and a stacked minibar that we’ve more than taken advantage of.
I slip my bag off my shoulder, laying a towel out on one of the daybeds on the balcony before I pull up the missed call notifications on my phone.
I almost regret setting up international calls and texts with my service provider for this trip, but I wanted to make sure I was available in case my parents needed me.
Or maybe, deep down, I wanted Kip to call.
I sigh at the absolute mess I am before tapping the number on the screen to call it back. I tap the button to put it on speakerphone next, leaning back against the plush pillows and waiting as it rings, my eyes on the last rays of sun touching the beach.
“Where the hell are you?”
The voice that answers is not what I expected. Female, angry, and… and… familiar.
“Who is this?”
“Natalia.”
I snap upright, eyes narrowing. “You have a lot of fucking nerve to call me.”
“Yeah, well, you can tell me how much you hate me later. Right now, I need you to tell me where you fucking are. Actually, I need you to answer Kip and tell him where you are.”
“How about I hang up and you go fuck yourself?”
I’m about to do just that when she screams, “Wait!”
I pause with my finger over the red button that will end the call.
“Just… look. I know you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. Hating you would require that I give a shit about you in some way, and I don’t,” I clarify.
“Fine. But just… please. Please call Kip and talk to him. He’s worried sick about you.”
I swallow. “And you would know this how?”
“Oh, don’t worry — he’s not talking to me anymore than he has to to wrap up the show,” she says with a scoff. “So, you won. If that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I never knew I was in a fight.”
“That’s a lie and you know it.”
“And you’re a bitch and you know it.”
There’s a pause, then a sigh. “Maybe. Or maybe I just know what I want and have learned in my short life that sometimes you’ve got to do some fucked-up things to get what you deserve.”
I shake my head.
“Look, I didn’t call to fight you. I called to… to… I don’t know, try to talk some sense into you, or at least plead to whatever part of you still cares about Kip.”
“Don’t you dare question my feelings for him.”
“Well, he’s fucking sick over you. He’s not eating, barely sleeping, and tonight is the premier and he’s nowhere to be found.”
I blink, my heart stopping dead before kicking back with a violent thump in my chest. “It’s premier night?”
“Yes. And not just for the cast — for everyone. There’s going to be a packed theater.
Professors, students, even some well-known indie film producers.
It’s a big deal, Skyler, and this series is good enough that Kip should be entering it into film festivals.
But he hates it. He hates himself for how he hurt you when he was making it. It’s tainted.”
“Not just by me,” I seethe. “And you know damn well if it’s anyone’s fault, her name starts with an N.”
“I’m just asking you to call him.”
“And I’m telling you that I don’t owe you a single damn thing.
You say you did what you thought you needed to do to get what you want?
Well, let me tell you this. I saw talent that day you auditioned.
I saw a sweet, kind, humble girl who deserved success.
But the more I got to know you, the more games you played, the more I realized you’re nothing but a snot-nosed brat too big for her britches, an entitled little girl who thinks she’s owed the world before having to work for it.
You will burn more bridges than you can build if you keep this up.
So, from one woman to another, drop the games and the manipulation and work for what’s important to you.
” I pause. “You already had the gig. You didn’t need to have the man. ”
“But the man was a tie to my dreams.”
“Get your dreams on your own.”
I hang up before she can answer, and nearly throw my phone but refrain. I do grip it so hard the screen protector cracks, though, and then I force a breath, dropping it to the side and flopping back on the daybed.
The sun has set now, the moon sliding in to take its place, and I stare up at the navy and purple sky with my heart racing.
Racing, and aching, and bleeding out.
I close my eyes, holding back the tears I feel burning behind my lids.
Slowly, I peel myself up again, reach for my phone, and pull up Kip’s contact.
I’m okay. I’m in Mexico for Ashlei’s bachelorette. Long story.
I pause, not yet sending it as I debate what to say next.
Go enjoy the premier — you’ve earned it.
Another pause, and then I add.
I’m so proud of you.
I send it before I can overthink it.
The little bubbles letting me know he’s typing appear in an instant, then disappear, then appear again, then disappear.
His heart is just as much at war as mine.
Finally, one simple text comes through.
Thank you.
For texting him back, for telling him where I am, for saying that I’m proud of him? I don’t know which.
I love you, I type out, the blinking cursor at the end of the sentence my only point of focus.
But I delete the words instead of sending them, and then I head back downstairs to the party, leaving my phone in the room for the rest of the night.