Page 8 of All at Once

This is definitely the most impressive resort that I’ve seen even though I’ve only been here for less than two minutes.

Momentarily forgetting how I’m still anticipating Enrique’s text, my phone lights up, my heartbeat now singing. Then the adrenaline spike abruptly drops when I realize Enrique’s name isn’t on my screen. It’s a message from Georgia. I go back to check if I accidentally missed his text and also notice a few missed ones from my mom. Trying to process the multiple conversations all at once, I bump into someone.

“Shit!” a nice voice exclaims before I realize what’s going on.

The cocktails in his hands slosh over the sides of the glasses and instantly cover the marble tile floor and both of our clothes.

I feel a puddle of moisture on the fabric of my coral sundress and look down to find a big stain covering the hemline.Fuck. This did not just happen.

“My dress!” I cry, forgetting that guy is still even here.

I look up to see him even more pissed than I am and then instantly clock how cute he is.

“Are you serious?” His brows raise in what must be shock. “This wasyourfault!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I got a bunch of messages at once,” I defend myself, while gesturing to my phone still in my hand.

“How stressful for you,” he deadpans. “Your messages couldn’t wait long enough for you to watch where you were going?” The annoyance in his voice only increases.

It’s actually quite shocking how much his sarcastic tone and dry expression are making up for his otherwise distracting features.

Upon first glance, he’s just as handsome as Enrique, if not more. With dirty blonde hair and the most vivid blue eyes that I’ve personally only seen in films. I think he might even be a few inches taller than Enrique. At least 6’3”. While his physique is leaner and less muscular that’s not to say that he doesn’t look just as fit. And his hands pressed against his now damp shirt are pretty— Wait. No.Focus. His mumbled scoffs luckily snap me out of my brief trance.

He has every right to be mad. But at the same time, he needs to get over it. “I said I was sorry,” I reiterate. Then my phone vibrates, and now it’s Enrique. Shifting my attention for a second, I proclaim out loud, “Ah! He responded.”

I realize too late that this probably makes this guy even more annoyed when he says, “I’m sick of people like you who areconstantly glued to your phones when walking around, completely oblivious to your surroundings.”

“I don’t usually check my phone when I’m walking,” I argue. “This was an exception.”

“My lucky day then.” He scoffs.

Okay what’s this guy’s problem? I already apologized. It’s my turn to voice my frustration now. “Maybe you should have been more careful? Walking around with drinks that don’t fit their glasses.”

“Greatinsult.” He doesn’t stop there. “While I’d love to stand here covered in sticky fruit and chat with you, someone has to actually clean this mess.”

I wasn’t expecting my entrance to include cleaning liquor and juice off the lobby floor, but I know it’s the right thing to do.

“I can help you,” I offer.

His tone doesn’t get any friendlier as he holds up a hand to me. “You’ve done enough.”

There’s no point in arguing with him. I would’ve been more careful if there weren’t a million thoughts dancing around in my mind right now. I’m jet-lagged, hungry, and just navigated my way all alone to a whole different continent. I think I deserve a little slack.

Still, I want to help knowing how this was mostly my fault. But since he made it very clear that he doesn’t want my help, and I don’t want to make everything worse, I decide to just leave it be.

As he walks away to go look for napkins, I turn in the opposite direction.

Of course my first day in Spain had to start off on such a bad note.

But I have more important problems to solve right now. Like the giant stain covering my dress.

Looking for the nearest restroom quickly to try and salvage my outfit doesn’t solve anything when the larger water outlines make the stain look even worse. Ugh.This is just perfect.

Not only is the idea of coming here for someone that I barely know starting to really sink in, but now I also look like an absolute mess while doing it. At least the chaos is consistent.

Hoping that Enrique will somehow magically not notice this new design on my dress, I finally open his message:

Enrique: Sweet, I’ll meet you in the lobby soon

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