Chapter 5
Genevieve
I wake up to Lana still sleeping like a baby beside me.
Lucky bitch. I spent the whole night tossing and turning, my mind racing with thoughts of him.
And yes, I say “him” because I never got his name and it’s driving me batshit.
Which, honestly, is a new feeling for me— no one drives me, Genevieve Brown, insane.
I feel like an idiot for not asking his name.
But I was too busy drowning in those deep, still-blue eyes of his—like he could hypnotize me into forgetting my own name let alone remember to ask his.
I quietly slip out of bed, careful not to wake Lana.
When I look out the back door, I’m immediately blinded by the snow’s reflection. It’s so bright and white that I have to squint just to look out.
Last night, Lana and I ordered some food through Doordash.
We ate chicken tenders and shared a salad while I went on and on about the guy who caught my attention.
I’m sure Lana’s annoyed by now, but I can’t help myself.
He’s literally my dream man. If only he’d been in a swimsuit instead of those damn thermals, then I could’ve seen what was really underneath.
Today, Lana and I are hitting the spa for a full day of indulgence: massages, mud baths, hot springs, and mani-pedis.
I’m distracted with thoughts about the snowboarder that ran into me.
How am I ever going to find him again? I can only hope he shows up at the spa, though I’m not exactly holding my breath.
What I do know is that his eyes—those stunning blue eyes—are like nothing I’ve ever seen.
They remind me of the ocean; deep, mysterious, and calling me to dive in.
The moment he ran into me, I was completely entranced.
I’m jolted by a creaking noise from the floorboards. I glance away from the snow and, through my blurry vision spot a half-asleep Lana.
“Good morning,” she says through a yawn. I also yawn.
“Morning, Babe, how’d you sleep?” I ask, letting my eyes adjust to the warm colors behind her.
“Like a rock. It must be the mountain air,” she says, smiling.
“Good, I’m glad one of us did.”
“You couldn’t sleep?” She asks.
“Nope. I can’t get this guy out of my head. I can’t stop thinking about him. I don’t even know his name, so I can’t look him up. I’ve got nothing. For all I know, he could have a girlfriend.”
“Yeah that sucks, but don’t worry. We will hit the spa, so you can let your mind relax and think about something else,” she tells me.
“Easy for you to say, you didn’t just meet your dream man and have him walk away before you get any information from him.”
“True, but come on. Genevieve Brown does not let any man get to her like this. He is consuming your thoughts. You are better than this.”
Damn, when did Lana start giving me advice. But she’s not wrong. I’m Genevieve Brown. I don’t let men get under my skin like this.
“You’re right babes, let’s get ready for the spa. We have massage appointments at 10:00,” I say.
She hops in place like a little kid.
“Yayyyy! I’ve never gotten a massage! I’m so excited!”
Then, we dress in our matching onesies and our luxurious fur coats.
***
“Ahhhh” I say as my masseuse, Caesar digs his elbows into my upper back, undoing all the knots in my back and shoulders. I’m tense from all that tossing and turning I did last night.
“This feels amazing,” Lana says, though it’s muffled.
I booked us a couple’s massage because Lana and I are basically married in every way except sexually. Besties, soulmates, codependents—take your pick. Honestly, the spa staff probably thinks we’re honeymooning. Let them.
As stunning and sweet as Lana is, I still need the real thing—preferably attached to a man who knows what to do with it. Silicone just doesn’t cut it.
An hour later, we’re relaxing in a mud bath, letting all of the elements benefit us. Some people think it’s gross, but I find it rejuvenating. Lana and I are covered head to toe in mud when someone walks in and delivers a message to one of the spa employees.
It’s him.
Is it?
The mud on my forehead drips down over my eyes, I can’t see.
Crap!
I try to wipe it away, but I just keep adding more mud from my hands. I make my way over to the edge of the bath and feel the ground until I feel a towel. Once I find one, I use it to clean my face.
But I don’t clean it in time because when my eyes are finally able to see again, he’s gone.
Was he even there in the first place?
Or was it all just a mirage?
Probably the second one.
Afterwards, we’ll head into the hot springs to allow the spring to open our pores, heal, and detoxify us. I don’t mention to Lana my delusions so we can enjoy the rest of our time without me being boy crazy.
This is my favorite part of the spa, because there are a few kiosks along the edge of the spring where employees serve anti-ageing face masks that can be washed off in the water.
After our bath, Lana and I go up to the window and ask for our masks.
The employees give us the concoction and we divide the amount so we each get half.
We slowly walk through the water, eventually arriving at a spot that we can sit on that’s pretty secluded. Once we get settled, we take a seat on some rocks that are in the water, so we can be half in and half out while our masks dry.
“So, legend says this spring makes people fall in love. Like, chemically. My parents swore by it—came here early in their relationship, took one dip, dropped the L-word before their towels were dry.” I tell Lana.
She looks over at me, “Good one, Gen.”
“No, I’m serious. That’s how my parents fell in love. They came to Silver Lake on a vacation when they were a few months into dating and they said ‘I love you’ right after they got out of this exact spring.”
It’s a true story.
“That could have just been a coincidence, that doesn’t mean this spring holds magical powers,” she says.
“Oh really?” I say pointing to the sign sticking out of the water right by us that shares the myth.
“Oh…” Lana says, “My bad.”
Then she laughs.
“It’s okay, I wouldn’t have believed my parents either if I didn’t see the sign,” I admit.
My dad could have always just shared that story because of the sign, but I choose to believe otherwise.
That is, until they got divorced. Now? I think it’s just a clever tourist trap with decent branding. Worked on my mom though.
Shortly after Lana’s history lesson, our facemasks have hardened and dried, our faces are ready to be washed off.
I stand up on the rock and Lana follows my lead.
I dive off head-first into the hot, steamy water.
I feel the current increase behind me as Lana does the same.
We rise up to the surface, removing the masks’ remnants from our faces.
We head to the stairs halfway submerged in the water and begin climbing.
We’re both soaked and the shock of the cold instantly hits us.
“Shit! My nipples are getting hard!” Lana says, crossing her arms over her chest.
I can’t help but laugh. “So are mine!”
We’re jogging in place and laughing our asses off. The bottoms of our feet are getting cold.
“Let’s go get some towels,” I say.
“Good idea!”
“But first, I need to tell you something,” I say while standing still, ignoring the coldness in my feet.
“What?” She asks, all serious.
“I love you!”
She bursts out a loud laugh. “I love you too, my lesbian lover. Now let’s get towels before I die of hypothermia and can’t tell you I love you again,” she says.
Then we head inside and dry ourselves.
After a full half-day of luxurious healing, we finish out our pampering with mani pedis while drinking dirty martinis with a twist. The employees at the spa didn’t ID us, thank God.
I needed this drink. They’re not as strong tasting as I’m used to but I’m feeling it so at least it’s working. I think it’s the altitude.
I’m getting my hands and toes done with a french tip, Lana decided to get the same. We’re gonna be twinning. Normally I think that’s gross, but right now I think it’s nice to have someone to twin with. This is my go-to nail combo, I don’t really like getting anything else.
Our hands are done and now we are getting our toes done.
We got our phones back after being locked up all morning so our spa day was phone free. The nail tech was kind enough to do our hands one at a time so that we could fiddle on our phones.
I’m scrolling through the photos Lana took of me last night of me in the green bikini for the first time and I’m obsessed. These came out better than I imagined.
I pick a few that I like and head over to the Instagram app.
“Okay, Lana, help me. What should I caption this post on Insta?” I ask her.
She grabs the phone to look at the photos I pick.
“Hmm, maybe something like; ‘ Thought we were going to Cabo’ ”
“That’s perfect!” I tell her.
I type in the caption and click post.
I go back to my camera roll and scroll through the last of the photos that I may have missed when one catches my eye.
Him.
“Lana! You got a photo of that guy running into me!” I tell her, as I stare at a photo of him holding me and looking into my eyes.
“I did?” she asks.
“Yes!” I answer, then shove the phone in her face so she can see.
“Oh yeah, I thought you’d like the memory,” she says casually.
“Ugh! Lana, what do I do?” It's been hours of relaxation and I still can’t get this man out of my head. I’m begging her for some sort of reassurance or advice.
So much for me not bringing up the topic of boys.
She immediately knows what I’m referencing and says, hesitantly, “I have an idea, but it might not work.”
The nail tech is almost done scrubbing my calves and feet with sugar scrub. She’s about to start moisturizing them with some lotion.
“And you waited until now to tell me?! What is it?” I ask desperately. This is so unlike me.