Chapter 11
Now
Wednesday dawns bright and sparkling, the gauzy curtains in my bedroom no match for the brilliant sunlight streaming through the wall of glass windows.
While I’ve grown accustomed to waking up in strange places and sleeping in beds that aren’t my own, it still takes me a moment to remember where I am: in Seafolly, plunged headfirst into my past.
I pad out onto the balcony in my nightgown and squint at the horizon, shading my eyes from the blinding light that’s already toasting my skin.
The sun hangs high above the water, its rays blazing a glittering trail across the sapphire surface, scavenging seagulls lofting gently on the breeze.
The sky is a vivid blue, fluffy white clouds drifting across it like puffed marshmallows.
It’s a spectacular view, the kind special effects artists desperately attempt to replicate but can never do justice.
I breathe in, letting the salt air fill my lungs, feeling the blissful, bone-deep calm that only the ocean can provide flow through my veins.
But my serenity is short-lived, because staring out at the vast, wide-open sky reminds me that today is the day I’ll be stuck in a cockpit with Ryder.
Yesterday was spent with my Lost Letter castmates, doing photo ops at the movie’s most famous filming locations and touring a few of the areas hardest hit by the hurricane.
It was an emotional day, the combination of the devastation and nostalgia a lot to take in, though you wouldn’t know it from looking at Ryder.
He seemed to be on a charm offensive, bantering with the press, interacting tirelessly with his fans, kissing babies—and lobbing blatantly flirtatious comments at me every chance he got.
I played along for the cameras, but it got under my skin more than I cared to admit.
I cornered Jase about it the second I got him alone, when we grabbed dinner after our long day of appearances. “You didn’t warn me he was like this,” I accused.
“Like what?” he said, casually chewing a French fry. So innocent.
“Oh I don’t know, a completely different person?” I speared the leaves of my salad with excessive force.
He lifted a brow in wry amusement. “You’re surprised he’s not the same guy he was ten years ago?”
“How could you not tell me he was sober?” I hissed, not in the mood for his sarcasm.
At a nearby table, two women kept sneaking glances our way, whispering behind their menus.
Even tucked into a corner booth, Jase drew attention like bees to honey.
Or as he liked to say, he wasn’t built to blend in.
“Why didn’t I tell you?” He wiped his mouth with a napkin before bunching it in his fist. “Maybe because every time I mentioned his name, you got a look on your face like I kicked your dog.”
I blinked at him, then stared down at my plate. I had no comeback for that.
“You didn’t want to hear it,” he said gently. “And I didn’t want to make things worse.”
I huffed a breath like I was annoyed, but we both knew he was right. Of course I hadn’t wanted to hear it. It hurt too much.
His voice softened. “Look, I love you both. You’re two of my favorite people.
I didn’t want to pick sides, and to your credit, you never made me.
But Scarlett, he’s been different for a long time.
” He hesitated, as if weighing the wisdom of his next words.
“Maybe you should give him a chance to show you.”
I scoffed. “I gave him a chance the other night and look how that turned out.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, you could find out for yourself instead of grilling me,” he said pointedly, and my face flamed. “From where I’m sitting, he seems to be trying pretty hard to get your attention.”
I squirmed in my seat, feeling exposed in a way I didn’t want to be.
Jase knew me too well—knew both of us too well.
I needed a subject change. “Speaking of attention, these women at the next table have been working up the courage to come talk to you. Ten bucks says one’ll give you her number, so prepare to be charming. ”
He looked offended. “I was born charming.”
I snorted.
“Anyway, I wouldn’t have to play this game if Kendall would just return my calls,” he said, grinning wickedly.
I groaned. “How many times have I told you not to make comments about Kendall to me?”
He flashed me his million-dollar smile. “A lot of times, which is why I keep doing it.”
Back in reality, I starfish onto the bed and attempt to psych myself up for the day.
At ten a.m. sharp, I’m expected to report to the very same regional airport where we originally filmed ten years ago, which probably explains why I had such a fitful night of sleep, filled with steamy dreams of Ryder pressing against me, his skin slick with sweat, his pulsing heartbeat pounding a steady drumbeat into my back.
Of course, the fact that I pulled the scene up on YouTube just before bed likely didn’t help.
I’m clueless about what today’s excursion is supposed to entail—were we actually going to reenact the scene?
We wouldn’t really be expected to recite our dialogue, would we?
I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into, and when I attempted to broach the topic with Ryder yesterday, he just grinned and told me to show up on time. Helpful.
My phone dings with a text, and I pause my spiraling long enough to look at it.
Kendall: I just saw clips from the press conference
I groan internally. My phone had been blowing up all day yesterday with similar messages. I’d ignored every last one of them.
Me: You and everyone else
Kendall: Are you okay?
I let out a semi-hysterical laugh. I’ve never been less okay.
I cycle through the carousel of overly detailed responses I could give her: Seafolly is everything and nothing like I remember it.
I’m afraid to fall asleep because I can’t control my dreams. Ryder still looks at me like I’m the answer to every question he’s ever asked.
Also, his collarbone has me in a chokehold.
I’m petrified of the Pandora’s box I’ve opened by coming back here. I’ve never felt so unsteady.
I settle on a little less of an overshare.
Me: I’m surviving, not thriving
The phone rings in my hand a few seconds later. “You have me worried,” she announces before I’ve even said hello.
“I have myself worried,” I admit, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Kendall’s the only person in the world who knows the full truth about what happened between Ryder and me back then.
I managed to hide it from everyone else in my life—including Ryder himself—but she was there to witness my rock bottom, when everything in my life fell apart, when I thought the darkness would swallow me whole.
She forced me out of my bed and my head; she helped me pick myself up and move forward.
It’s not an exaggeration to say that she saved my life.
I fill her in on the week’s goings-on so far—Ryder showing up at my house unannounced, his ultimatum-slash-warning, his revelations at the press conference, along with yesterday’s flirtatious behavior.
She hums a noise. “I caught the vibe you’re talking about in the clips, but I wasn’t sure if I was reading into it.”
“You’re not. It’s like he’s baiting me.” And I’m terrified that I’m not strong enough to resist. “It’s hard to explain, but it feels like he’s a step ahead of me, or he knows something I don’t. It’s…unsettling.”
“And today’s the plane ride?”
“Yes, and that’s another thing. He’s afraid of flying—why on earth would he offer to re-create that scene? Nothing he’s doing makes any sense.”
I start rummaging through my suitcase, trying to determine the best ensemble for soaring over Seafolly, when I come across the faded blue sweatshirt buried at the bottom of my bag and go still.
I don’t even know why I brought it. I tried to talk myself out of it, but in the end, I couldn’t seem to leave it behind.
I pull it out slowly, fingering the frayed collar and tracing the raised letters with my fingers, memories crashing over me like a rogue wave.
Before I can stop myself, I’ve brought it to my nose and breathed in, but it’s long since lost the scent of him.
Don’t do this to yourself. I set it back in my suitcase gingerly, careful to cushion its contents, and pry my brain back to the present.
Kendall’s gone conspicuously silent on the other end of the line. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Well, whatever it is you’re thinking, just say it,” I tell her as I walk back onto the balcony and stare out at the cornflower-blue sky, letting the sunbaked decking warm my bare feet.
Down on the beach, I watch a gray-haired man fling a stick into the surf, his dog joyfully crashing into the ocean to retrieve it.
“You’re the only one I can talk to about this, and I could use your advice. ”
“I’m having competing thoughts.”
“Okay, let’s hear ’em.”
She lets out a sigh. “I’m worried about you. You worked really hard to move past this and I don’t want you to backslide.”
I swallow heavily, not knowing what to say. I don’t want to backslide either, but her warning feels like too little, too late. I’m already tumbling down a steep mountainside, and I’m only picking up speed.
“But the other part of me thinks that maybe you need closure. You’ve been carrying this for so long, Scarlett.” Her voice is sympathetic. “Things ended so abruptly. Maybe this is your opportunity—”
“No,” I cut her off, unwilling to entertain the idea. And she should know better than to suggest it. First Jase, now Kendall? I feel tag-teamed. “Just…no.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words. “You know, in those press conference clips, it wasn’t him I was watching. It was you. And you seemed…”
“Shell-shocked? Flustered? Mortified?” I say sarcastically. In the distance, I watch a pod of dolphins rhythmically break the surface and disappear, rising and falling in hypnotic, graceful choreography.
She pauses. “Sad.”