Chapter 12 Riley
TWELVE
RILEY
My legs are wobbly, and my body feels like it’s floating after getting the detox massage the spa offers.
The masseuse exfoliated my skin from head to toe, then applied a mud wrap, and did a lymphatic massage. Not once did I know a lymphatic massage was a thing you could get, but I’m a huge fan now.
After feeling reborn, the girls and I hit up the salon, and I’m taking full advantage of this opportunity to do something I’ve wanted to do since I was sixteen.
I sit down in the chair, stare in the mirror as they wrap the salon cape around my neck—which humbles me—and know that this is the moment to start over.
No one was around to yap in my ear about how this would be a bad idea. And by ‘no one’ I mean Mom. It’s time to shake things up.
This is not an existential crisis.
I think the resort is speaking to me. Or maybe it’s because I’ve been stressed because of everything going on right now. The good, the bad, the ugly. But I know that I need a change, and the biggest change I can make is with my hair.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had long hair. I wouldn’t be shocked if I found out Mom put a blonde wig on me until my hair started to grow. The way she treats my hair is the same way Mother Gothel treats Rapunzel's hair.
Like if I cut it, she’ll wither away into dust.
The girls got a hair wash and blowout since we’re celebrating Rowan’s birthday tonight, and I didn’t mention anything about cutting my hair. I didn’t say anything to anyone.
That’s because the decision was made when I sat my butt on the chair.
I enter the spa’s lobby, and the conversation stops.
“Oh… my God,” Addie says.
Ellie lets out an excited gasp while clapping her hands in a fast motion. “Holy crap, you look amazing!”
“Shit, Ry.” Hailey folds her arms across her chest. “I think this is the boldest decision you’ve made.”
I can’t believe it myself. They cut five inches from my hair—which is a lot for me—and it feels so much lighter. It’s like I’ve left the tired, overwhelmed Riley behind and a new version of me has stepped in to take over.
I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted to do with my hair besides cut it. The stylist waited for my answer until I told her to do what she thought would be good for me. That was the first time I’ve met that woman, and I put my life in her hands.
And she did a damn good job.
After she was done, she turned my chair around to surprise me, and I peered in the mirror at my reflection. It was like a Princess Diaries moment. Curtain bangs framed my face, my golden locks stopping at my chin in a wavy bob haircut.
What will August think? I shouldn’t care about his opinion, or anyone’s, but I can’t help it. I crave his affection and the look he gives me when I step into a room.
His pupils dilate into a full moon. There’s a saying that when someone looks at the person they love, their pupils dilate. I’d like to believe that’s true since Ellie’s would dilate every time she sees chocolate cake.
For tonight’s dinner, I’m wearing a sage green body-con dress and ankle strap heels that make me feel hot. Time was saved since I didn’t need to worry about my hair, since it was already styled, and it’ll never look this good again.
I haven’t touched a curling iron since the junior year prom incident.
Everyone is at the long dinner table, and I’m the last one to meet them. The only seat available is right across from August, who’s looking just a bit too sunburnt. Even with a red nose, he’s still cute.
“Riley,” Ellie calls out. “Over here!”
August’s attention is drawn from his menu to me. I can’t look away. He’s the only man who has ever had this effect on me, and my heart makes sure that I know this.
My heart always fought against me when it came to him. It yells at me every time he’s near me.
Run to him. Take him. Hold him. Don’t let go again.
Sounds and chatter bring everything around me back into motion. I sit between Addie and Hailey. August’s eyes flick back to the menu.
Beau points at me. “Your hair.”
“Oh no!” I place a hand on my head, the smooth and soft waves caressing my fingers. “Someone cut my hair.” I smile.
Beau flaps his menu open and eyes it. “No need to be a smarty pants, Riley. I was going to offer you free trims.”
“That’s fine. I’ll just go to Jorge.”
Beau gasps and closes his menu. “You take that back.”
“What’s wrong with Jorge?” I ask, playing stupid.
“You know he’s my biggest competitor. He has that swagger that can make any woman crawl to him.”
“You know he's super gay, right?” Hailey says.
"Yes, and he's very handsome." Beau looks at Hailey, then back to me. "A gay, handsome, Latino man. Do you know how hard it is to compete with that?" Beau leans across the table. "What if I wear a crop top? I have the goods to show off." He gestures to his body.
"You're going to whore yourself out for haircuts?" Hailey cocks an eyebrow.
“If that’s what needs to be done.” He flips his menu back open.
Hailey rolls her eyes and takes a drink from her glass. The deep, red wine matches her lipstick.
"Your hair looks nice," Rowan tells me with a mouthful of buttery bread, grabbing more from the basket in front of him.
"Yeah, I don't think I've ever seen you with short hair." James turns to me and examines it. "Makes you look more... serious."
"Thanks?"
"I think it looks hot," Hailey says, running her fingers through the silky blonde strands. "August, do you have anything nice to say about my sister's new haircut?"
August snaps out of whatever trance he was in, which makes me feel incredible, and says, “I really like it, bold of you to do.”
I glance at him over my menu for a split second. I say, "thank you," under my breath.
"How was the couples massage, Ellie?" Addie asks.
Ellie slumps her shoulders, and her eyes turn dreamy. She lets out a low hum. "It was incredible."
"Did you know you can get a massage on the beach?” Rowan says, leaning back into his chair. “The entire time I was worried a bird was gonna shit on me."
The guys laugh while Ellie gives him an unamused look.
"What?" Rowan grins. "I can't worry about getting shit on while trying to enjoy a massage?"
"I never thought I'd hear the word shit and massage in the same sentence," I say.
"Can you imagine getting shit on while getting rubbed down?" Beau says.
Hailey snorts through her nose and picks up her drink. “Can we please stop talking about shit?"
Addie turns to me. “A little birdie told me you were flirting with one of the servers by the pool this morning.”
I cock a brow and glare toward August.
He puts his hands up in defense. “I didn’t say anything.”
“There was no flirting,” I say.
Hailey says, “Yeah, probably just eye fucking.”
August almost spits out his drink as he starts to cough. Beau slaps his back, asking if he’s okay, and August nods.
“I was not eye fucking him,” I retort.
“Hey, there isn’t anything wrong with that,” Ellie says. “You’re single and can do whatever you want.”
Addie chimes in. “Totally.”
“Did you see how short their shorts are?” Ellie fans herself.
“I’m right here,” Rowan says to her.
Ellie taps her lip, pondering. “Hm… I wonder if they sell those in their gift shop.”
“Please don’t make me think about Rowan in those shorts,” James grumbles.
The corner of Rowan’s lips turns down, and he shrugs. “I think I could pull them off.”
“Yes, you can,” Ellie says in a tone that is a bit too sexy for the public.
August groans. “Please stop.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re digging into our plates of food. I’m shoveling mine into my mouth, starving.
A feeling of being looked at comes over me. Taking my chances, I give August a quick glance, and sure enough, his eyes are on me. They’re always on me.
“What?” I ask.
He lifts his eyebrows. “Nothing.”
“Then why are you staring at me?”
Looking around, everyone’s immersed in their own conversation, not paying attention to us. The restaurant is loud, with people yelling over each other to be heard.
The table isn’t wide. If I wanted to reach out and hold his hand, I could. But I’m not going to.
August leans toward me. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”
“Not when I’m stuffing my face with food.”
“But you’re cute when you’re hungry.”
It’s always been tough for me to accept a compliment from anyone. And even though August and I aren’t close like we once were, he continues to make flattery his job.
Heat settles across my face, and I can only hope that it isn’t red while my stomach does summersaults. “Stop it.”
I feel something tap at the front of my heel, and without having to look up, I know it’s August trying to reel me back in.
“What?”
He leans in closer, his forearms braced on the table, causing his biceps to strain through his shirt. My eyes flit from his arms to his eyes.
“Like I’ve said many times before, you’re cute when you’re annoyed at me.”
“Is that why you never leave me alone?”
“That and amongst other things.” He tilts his head and grins. “But seriously, I like what you did with your hair. I think it’s become my favorite.”
I bite back my smile attempting to not give in. I’m saved when our server comes to the table with a large cake. Sparklers spread along the top, gathering attention from other patrons and their curiosity.
When it’s set down in front of him, the sparklers circle around a photo of a toddler wearing Power Rangers underwear and large, pink high heels that swallow his feet.
“Who gave you this picture?” Rowan shouts and looks at Addie.
His sister starts singing along with the five servers who surround our table. Ellie gets up from her chair, rounds the table and kisses his cheek. She wraps her arms around him, whispering something in his ear.
My heart swells from the adoration and love they give each other.
I watch August, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle, forcing himself to look happy when all I see is sadness. Is he having the same thoughts I’m having? A scary thought that makes you wonder if you’d ever find that same kind of love. Or if you’re worthy of that love.
Every day, I question if I’m worth having a love that doesn’t make me question if I’m good enough. The kind of love that when I’m given a compliment, I believe it to be true.
It’s my fault.
I've ruined the image of love for him, all because of my parents and their messed-up relationship. He grew up in a household that had nothing but love, but he was so swept up with me that he let my doing influence his choices and thoughts.
If he can give up on the idea of receiving that kind of love, who’s to say he’ll give up on me? The thought of that alone terrifies me.