32. Fallon
Chapter thirty-two
Fallon
I’m laughing my ass off at the Trump impressions this guy is doing. Aiden, Brayden, Caden? I can’t remember his name, but he’s funny. Hilarious, even. I just haven’t decided how I’m going to ditch him. To my right, Shay has her face buried into his friend’s neck, literally licking him.
So, for now, I’m stuck with the Matt Rife wannabe. I can’t make an excuse that I’m ready for bed since the sun still hangs high in the sky. And I’m in my 20s. And on vacation.
Aiden/Brayden/Caden yawns a fake stretch and drapes his arm on the back of my chair. Goose bumps stretch across my skin in a slimy way that makes me want to stand on the table and shout that I’m unavailable. Just because I’m not here with a man doesn’t mean I’m one Bahama Mama away from sex on the beach.
Yes, I’m single. Yes, I can mingle. But I don’t have to. Fuck the patriarchy… I laugh at my thoughts.
Aiden/Brayden/Caden, or maybe even Hayden/Jaden, crawls his fingertips over my shoulder. It’s a simple touch. I’ve had more romantic touches from middle school boyfriends, but a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach unsettles me, like a boiling cauldron about to foam over the sides.
I don’t think anything nefarious is happening with… let’s call him Aiden. He gives off college mascot vibes. The guy who is friends with all the athletes but is not quite athletic enough to be on the team, so he uses humor to make up for it. If I cared to ask, I’d say he works at his dad’s financial planning office. I don't hate him, I just don’t need his fingertips strumming my shoulder.
I slide off the barstool, Aiden’s arm flopping to his side once it falls from my shoulder, and I tell him I need the bathroom. I weave past the door that proudly displays a barely clothed mermaid and the door with a pirate winking at the mermaid and continue down the ramp to the front ramp where the golf carts wait. I text Shay to tell her that I’m going back to my room. She can tell Aiden if she wants. I really don’t care.
Once I make it back to the room, I check the time. It’s 10:43 both here and at home ,so Jeb might be asleep, but I text him anyway.
Guy #2 Green flags: he made me laugh. Red flags: he gave off class clown/financial advisor vibes. He’s the type to always make a joke, even in a serious situation, because he’s making up for lacking in other ways. Not gonna find out those other ways since I’m in my room packing—but add that to the list.