Chapter 16 ALI - RUNNER
The next morning, I woke up with puffy eyes and a heart full of hate.
Throwing on my biggest sunglasses and hat, I met up with some of my friends to sit on the pool deck and watch all the tourists leave the cruise ship.
“You’re not going to say bye to him?” Desi asked while lathering sunscreen on her arms beside me.
I shook my head as I sipped my iced coffee.
“Are you sure?” Her face held a tight grimace. “It seemed like you guys really clicked. You were, like, glued to his side all week. You don’t want to go give him a hug or something?”
My throat burned. Yes, I wanted one more hug, but that just couldn’t happen.
“We don’t always get what we want,” I muttered.
Him being the prime example. He didn’t want a relationship with me—didn’t even want to try—so what did it matter?
Our arrangement was for a single week. I was the one who got carried away, I guess.
“I think he’s coming down the ramp right now,” Desi said with a small cringe.
My eyes fell closed for a brief second. Standing on shaky legs, I made my way over to the railing. I watched his tall muscular frame leave the boat, feeling like he was walking away with my heart.
My chin trembled.
“Oh no.” Desi’s face creased with concern. “I didn’t realize you’d be that upset.” She pulled me into a hug.
“This was so stupid,” I blubbered. “I feel so…” My throat closed up, blocking my words. I’d been so strong and independent for so many years, and it only took him a single week to completely undo all of it and for me to give him everything.
“You feel so…?” Desi questioned.
“Embarrassed,” I squeezed out. “He got what he wanted and now he’s leaving. The whole thing’s a fucking cliche. I just didn’t think this kind of thing would still happen in our fucking thirties.” I scrubbed my hands over my face, trying to clear my emotions. “Whatever.”
“Hey, it’s his loss,” Desi said sternly.
“Not really,” I said, feeling pathetic. “I feel like I lost a whole lot just now. I probably won’t see him again for another decade,” I said lamely.
Her mouth formed an oh. “Wait, I’m confused. Do we hate him or do we want to see him again?”
“Both,” I said miserably, and then I let out the entire sordid tale of night before.
_________
Later that night, Desi convinced me to join the rest of the group for dinner and bar-hopping through downtown Charleston, where we were docked for the night.
“It’ll be good for you,” she argued as she threw a skimpy dress across the room at me. “You just have to forget about him, ya know? Find someone new to make out with.” She wagged her eyebrows at me.
But I wasn’t sure that was even possible.
For one, it felt like JP was permanently stamped at the front of my brain.
And two, the thought of making out with anyone else made me want to throw up.
I only wanted JP.
But he didn’t want me.
So, what was a girl to do…
I tried my best not to be a downer, but without him, the whole night felt kind of…empty. What was the point of drinking or dancing if I wasn’t ending the night with him? Smiling felt like a foreign concept, and my chest just felt hollow.
“Behind you to the right,” Desi whispered as she saddled up on a barstool next to me.
“Huh?” I slammed my phone face-down on the bar. Instead of enjoying the breezy summer night and taking in this rooftop bar’s magnificent view of the Ravenel Bridge, I was stupidly waiting for a text from JP that I knew would probably never come.
“Hot guy. He keeps looking at you. What do you think? Mullet and mustaches are so in right now,” Desi said with a little laugh.
“No,” I glumly replied. I couldn’t even make myself look. Slumping forward, I leaned my elbows on the bar and held my head. I didn’t want mullets or mustaches. I wanted buzzed hair and a chiseled jaw. I wanted JP.
Desi blew out a breath. “Okay, so no new guys. Are you sure you’re not making a mistake with the whole JP thing? Maybe—”
“No,” I cut her off with a pointed look. “He said he’ll be ‘busy with hockey,’” I said with air quotes. “That’s their favorite line.”
“Yeah.” Her face fell and so did my heart. I was hoping she’d argue that it wasn’t a big deal, but she also grew up side-by-side with hockey players. She knew all their dumb lines and moves just as well as I did. “I’m sorry. He’s an idiot.”
“Let’s just drink,” I slurred, already three sheets to the wind thanks to the pitcher of margarita I pretty much hogged at dinner.
Looking down at my fruity drink in front of me, a little drop fell into it.
I was shocked when I realized it fell from my eye.
“Ugh,” I groaned and wiped at my face. “He was just so warm, ya know?”
Her face morphed into a frown. “Oh girl, you’re in deep.”
With a pathetic pout, I slammed my forehead on the bar.
________
At some point past midnight, Desi stumbled back to my room with me. When I opened my door, a little note was on the ground like it’d been tucked under the threshold.
Clumsily picking it up, my drunk brain read it slowly, and I could feel Desi reading it with me over my shoulder.
“Oh no. Oh girl, I’m sorry, but that’s really sweet,” she said.
My eyes blurred as I re-read the few sentences in JP’s handwriting:
I know you’re a runner, Ali. But if you ever get tired and need to rest your legs, you can always run home to me.
He signed the letter with a small heart next to his name.
It felt like a frog was lodged in my throat.
Home.
I didn’t have one of those, and he knew it. What a fucking tease. It felt like he took my vulnerable confession and twisted it up to stab me with it.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to do anything other than feel this giant hole in my heart.
I knew I should’ve hated him, but I loved him too damn much.
“I’m not ready to go to bed,” I croaked, carefully folding the paper and sticking it into my pocket. Taking stock of my room, of my un-made bed, I shook my head. “I can’t sleep in here. I’ll just keep thinking about him.”
Desi pulled me into a side hug and rubbed my arm. “I get it. Come back to my room with me,” she said, steering me toward the door.
Except on the way to her room we passed the tattoo parlor, making me stumble to a stop.
Adrienne was already working on the ankle of another person—a college-aged girl with long dark hair, tanned skin, and a bright smile.
“Ahh, the twirl girls are back,” Adrienne said, giving us a little nod.
“Twirl girls?” her customer asked.
“Guys, this is Camila,” Adrienne said, introducing the girl in her chair. “She works in the dining hall. Camila, this is Ali and Desi, they’re figure skaters here on the ship.”
Camila’s eyes widened. “Figure skaters? Wait, did that one guy find his girl?”
All of us looked at her like she sprouted a new head.
“There was this guy.” She snapped her fingers, searching her brain for a name. “J-something. He came to dinner by himself the first night and said he was coming to find this figure skater he’d been in love with for ages,” she gushed.
I frantically searched for my phone so I could find a picture of JP to confirm she was talking about him, but I must’ve left my phone in my room.
“So, did he find her? Did they work out?” Camila pushed.
The excitement on her face made my face crack with fresh tears.
The way he told this girl he’d been in love with me, the way he held me, danced with me, and dropped so many fucking kisses on my forehead.
It was all too much. Why did he do all of that?
What was the fucking point if he didn’t even want to try for a relationship?
Sensing the tension, Camila froze. “Oh no, what did I say?”
“He found her, alright,” Desi explained, pulling me into a hug and rubbing my back.
Camila’s eyes danced between the three of us, piecing things together. “I’m sorry.” She cringed. “He was, like, really hot.”
“I know,” I half-laughed, half-cried. “He really was.”