“Dare get up, we have to leave! The wedding’s tomorrow,” Ope says, and I groan.
“No,” I mutter, and she rips off my blanket. “Go away,” I say.
“Nah uh, you know I can’t do that. We’ll never get out of here if I leave you here,” she says, grabbing my ankles. I reach up and grab the headboard, knowing what is about to happen.
Suddenly, Ope pulls at my ankles as I grasp the headboard tightly.
“You know this is not the situation that I thought would be going down when I grabbed this headboard,” I mutter, and she immediately lets go as if I burned her.
“Uhh ew,” she says. “I would rather be late than hear another sentence like that,” she says, and I roll over and get up.
“No, don’t bother, I'm up, let’s go,” I say, getting ready.
A couple hours later, and we touch down in Florida. I am so glad that Ope’s parents flew us out. There was no way I could afford to fly from Cali to Florida. Yeah, no way in hell.
I see Ope’s parents, Anton and Gaia. We walk over to them, and I hug them tightly. “Hey,” I mutter.
“Hello, agapi mou,” she says in Greek, which means my love. I smile at the motherly endearment.
“Geia sou mamá, pós eísai?” Ophelia says. ‘Hello Mama, how are you?’ as she gives her a big hug, kissing the side of her head.
“Eímai kalí agápe mou. Pós ítan i ptísi sou?” she returns the hug, saying, “I am good, my love. How was your flight?”
“Makryá, allá eímai evgnómon pou écho na do ton Sage na pantrefteí aftó to to Savvatokyriako,” I add. “Long as hell, but I am grateful that I get to see Sage get married this weekend.”
“Of course, agapi mou. We wouldn’t have it any other way...you are family,” she says, smiling. “Alright, let's get you settled in,” Gaia chirps happily.
The wedding was beautiful, and everyone cheered.
Ope and my room is nice enough, but I don’t understand why you would want to get married on a boat other than the fact that you get to see the sunrise on the ocean.
I look around the reception area on the deck of the boat and spot a bar...thank God. I walk up to the bar and see a tanned guy with a man bun dressed in all black with a name tag that reads ‘Dray’.
“Hey,” I call out to him. He turns to me and looks at me expectantly. “Can I get a...” I drawl, looking at the drink menu. “You know what? Get me whatever has a lot of alcohol and will make me shitfaced quickly,” I say.
I think back to the text I got just before the wedding.
Sitting on this damn bench is hurting my butt. I should’ve gotten a drink from the bar before coming over here. Man, I think I have to pee.
I quickly type my response.
Looking at it made me want to hurl.
Once it says delivered I shut the screen.
This is how it starts—the begging, then eventually he’ll get rude and say something horrible and I’ll end up a sobbing mess in Ope’s arms.
I simply send one word before shutting off my phone.
I blocked his number and turned off my phone. I need a drink.
So, that happened and I’m over it. I just need a drink. I need to forget my past right now, be someone else. The bartender slides me a shot and I down it instantly.
He watches me closely but I believe he understands and slides me another one.
“Drinking,” I say bluntly without turning around. I hear shuffling and what sounds like footsteps, so my guess is that he sat next to me.
“Alone?” he asks and I roll my eyes.
“Yup, looks like it doesn’t it?” I ask him, sarcasm dripping off of every word.
“Arrogant asshole,” I mutter to myself.
“What?” he asks, eyebrows pulling together in confusion.
His eyes are brown, deep brown, he’s a looker, that’s for sure.
But where have I seen those eyes?
“Dare,” I deadpan, turning back around.
“Excuse me?” he asks in bewilderment.
“Wow, such a beautiful and unique name,” he says, trying to be poetic—it ain’t workin’, sis. I inwardly roll my eyes.
“Well, you know what they say...” he starts.
“Pretty name for a pretty girl. Anything else you want to try to use from the cliché ‘how to pick up a girl’ binder?” I interrupt and ask.
“Was it that bad?” he asks, and I nod.
“Surprisingly,” he murmurs.
“Right...” I say and turn around. I knock on the counter twice, and the bartender shoots me another shot.
“So,” he starts again, and yet again I am rolling my eyes.
“Do the cheesy conversations where you ask twenty questions usually work?” I ask, and he nods.
“Yeah, usually I don’t have to work this hard,” he admits, and I laugh.
“Thought so, you clearly have no game,” I say, downing another shot. Come on, I’m not even buzzed yet, damn you high alcohol tolerance. I knew I shouldn’t have partied as much in high school.
“Where are you from?” he asks.
“Hold on there, city boy. I am nowhere near dumb enough or drunk enough to spill my life story,” I say, and he has a small ghost of a smile playing on the edge of his lips.
“So you have a boyfriend...” he tries and doesn’t see a reaction. “You can’t have a fiancé because you’re not wearing a ring, you’re sitting alone at a bar at a wedding.
“Hmm, I wonder,” he taps his chin with his fingers, faking a thinking look.
“It’s a long story,” is all I say, trying to keep it short.
“So what happened—” he started.
“I’m sorry, that question is not in the binder,” I say, pointing on the counter. The feeling of it cold on my fingertip.
I groan aloud. “Don’t you have a bikini model to stalk? Leave me alone. I’m trying to get drunk in peace, mmkay?” I say, complaining.
“No, I don’t. And if you’re in the mood to get drunk, you need a drinking buddy,” he says, tapping the counter. He downs the shot the bartender sends him and smiles at me.
I roll my eyes. If I roll them any more, they are gonna roll out of my head.
That would be so weird if someone had no eyes because they rolled out of their head because they rolled their eyes too much... yeah, I might be slightly buzzed or tipsy. I forget which one comes first.
“No. No, I don’t,” I say coldly.
“By the way, my name is Gage,” he says, slightly smiling.
“I didn’t ask,” I say, and he chuckles... what is he, the chuckler?
“I know,” he says.
The bartender slides over two shots. I down one, and he downs the other.
“So, what do you do for fun?” he asks, and I stare at him blankly.
“Someone shut off the sun,” I say, slightly groggy.
“What the hell?!?” I exclaim, sitting up.
I try to, as quickly and quietly as possible, gather my things and leave.
Here’s what I know... I got shit-faced last night and can’t remember what happened, but since I woke up without underwear, I’m guessing I slept with Gage.
I’m not 100% sure since I’ve never read it, but I’m sure this is not in the binder.
