4. BAILEE
BAILEE
Darkness and silence met me when I finally reopened my eyes. Which meant that Dad had actually succeeded in pulling everyone to the beach without me. Way to go, Dad. Gold star.
I slipped out of my hammock, slipping into some version of a sundress that was entirely too loose and too short, should anyone come wandering back into the house. But I was on vacation too, something I had a hard time believing. One wrong move and the entire beach would see my ass. It was a good thing no one was here, and I had the entire house to myself.
Unfortunately, that’s when my stomach decided to remind me that while I had avoided my entire family’s festivities, I had also missed out on the only opportunity for food tonight. Sure, Dad promised me a plate later on. But later on could be tomorrow morning for all I knew.
Venturing into the kitchen, my eyes roamed for any sources of food or snacks. Bare. Nothing. I hadn’t even managed to steal an extra packet of peanuts from the plane, which meant I was shit out of luck. I let out a breathy sigh, taking in the massive amount of space as the moonlight lit up the wood adornments along the wall. During the day, the large windows reflecting the light were gorgeous, illuminating the most intricate pieces of this house.
At night, it was just creepy.
Great place to stage a horror movie.
I chuckled at my dry humor as I rumbled around the kitchen. My parents hadn’t stocked it yet, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something from the last tenant. And yes, I was that desperate to avoid everyone down at the beach. But there was nothing that would fill my empty stomach… except the really, really expensive whiskey that I found in one of the cabinets.
I popped the top and took a whiff, cringing at the potent scent. Bad things happened when I drank. Like breakdowns, freakouts, and bad decisions. But I was starving, and the whiskey would at least warm my insides. I took a swig, relishing the way it burned the back of my throat. Fuck, that’s good. Another swig and I knew for a fact that I was going to regret this.
I whipped out my journal, smiling as I flipped to the next blank page, and then shifted to one of my favorite Pandora stations. Confetti’s song, ‘Rob a Bank’ blasted through my phone speaker and my pen began gliding over the page as I detailed the events of the day, my smile widening as doe eyes flashed through my head.
To whom it doesn’t concern,
These were the moments that I loved. The ones where I was free to be alone. The ones where I was free to be me .
A noise had my entire body stiffening, my eyes raising to the form that had entered my kitchen. The bottle was halfway to my lips and I couldn’t remember when I had started dancing like a fucking animal in the darkness.
It’s him .
The hottie. The sex guide. The guy that Malia had called dibs on and I really wanted to break girl code for.
And he was here. In my kitchen. And we were the only two people in the house.
“Fuck.”