Page 2 of Fall Apart

And I’ll gladly take all the distractions I can get. Sure, that trip over New Year’s with V, Tanner, and Collin was fun. I even had my first threesome, sort of.

But I still have a bitter taste in my mouth.

I’m still angry.

I’m still hurt.

Johnathan, that dirtbag, left a hole in my heart six months ago. I wasted so many good years with him. Years that I spent trusting him, thinking he loved me. All of that time, that energy, thinking of our future, only to see him wash it down the drain, like it was nothing to him. LikeIwas nothing to him.

He even managed to spoil the peace and quiet of the stupid apartment, which now just reminds me of him.

So having a free night to myself, away from home where I can just get out and let loose is something I desperately need.

And besides, I haven’t been out to Park City in months and the first thing I’d love to do is stop into Roxy’s, the old dive bar a block off of Main Street.

Looking in the mirror in the bathroom at the condo, I can almost convince myself that I’m not still hurt. The confident face staring back at me feels like it’s finally resembling the sassy bitch everyone thinks I am, the one I want them to think I am.

I feel like I look good.

No.

Idolook fucking good.

Black tights, my trusty low cut black sweater dress, my favorite gold necklace with the ice cream cone charm pendant, and my hair back in a pony tail. I love this outfit. I feel like a catch.

Yep. Screw Johnathan. His loss.

After hoppingoff the shuttle from the condo to downtown Park City, I walk South towards Main Street. Along the way, I pass the Town Lift, the chairlift that comes from the slopes straight into the center of town. I stop and watch for a minute as some of the resort employees are still riding it down. It’s connected by a skiers’ bridge that lets skiers come right into the center of town. This place is really unique with how the town and the resort blend together. Some of the ski runs at the base of the mountain even run right along the houses a few blocks off of Main Street.

Striding up the street through historic downtown Park City is something that feels timeless yet modern all at once. My pink cowboy boots I bought in Jackson Hole are cute as hell, but they probably weren’t the best choice for the sloped street that I’m trudging up now. Even with the salt scattered on the shoveled pavement, it’s still slick and I definitely don’t want to fall and break something before I even get to ski tomorrow.

I carefully walk my way up Main Street, which is at the center of the old Western mining town turned ski paradise. It’s lined with charming two and three-story brick buildings with a mix of old, brightly painted wood facades. There are bars, restaurants, art galleries, chocolate shops, all of the things it seems like every ski town has. If it wasn’t dark out, I could even see the mountains surrounding the town on three sides.

Turning the corner, I walk another block away from Main Street towards my destination, Roxy’s.

It’s a dive. And that might be on the generous side. It’s old, with a nondescript, wood paneled façade painted white that’s been fading for years. Topping off the charming, dive bar vibe is a small red signover the door with “Roxy’s” stenciled in white. It vaguely resembles most of the old buildings right off the main drag, just a bit more…grungy.

On the inside, it’s not much different. The wood paneled walls are raw and worn. There are pool tables along the back wall and a cozy bar with a dozen or so seats surrounded by a few high top tables.

It’s definitely not a place Meredith Frank, my mother, would approve of. At first it was my secret escape and I’d lie about where I was going every now and then on our family ski trips. When I was older, I stopped hiding it from them, but they’d still always wonder why I’d come here. It’s not the swanky, posh place the Frank family would go to. No espresso martinis or Chablis here, that’s for sure.

It’s a place I’ve been coming to for ages whenever I’m in town at my family’s condo, ever since I was old enough to drink. Maybe even before I was old enough. Not that my parents ever need to know about that. And not like they’d really care either. They would be busy at some swanky place for dinner or at the condo with my younger sister, Charlotte.

No. I liked to come here to just get away, tolet my hair down. Ok, maybe not literally, I’m wearing a ponytail. But no, just a place to get away from what I’m expected to be and relax. A place where my mother or my boyfriend couldn’t tell me to tone it down a notch on the rare occasions he came on one of our family trips. A place to unwind and be me, unapologetically Lizzy.

Am I a little overdressed for this place? Probably. But whatever, I’m always overdressed. As my best friend says, I’malways on. So what, I enjoy looking good.

Even on a Wednesday night close to nine o’clock, the bar is busy. The sounds of all the people and their glasses clanking reverberate through the room. The wolf shaped neon light along the wall hums with the country songs in the background. All of it vibrates and courses through me, bringing me to life.

I work my way up to the bar and grab a stool at the corner. Getting a seat in prime position for people watching is practically a hobby of mine. Is the drunk guy over there going to get slapped or score with the woman he’s been buying vodka sodas for the last hour? Are those two guys at the pool table going to fight or bro hug? All I know is that this is better than reality TV. People watching at these places is always a must for me. On a weeknight? Even better.

The bartender, a sweet girl probably barely old enough to drink herself, comes my way.

“Nice day out on the slopes today. You make it out there?” She tilts her chin towards the windows on the front of the building where you could see the ski slopes if the sun was still up. I always admire the politeness of local Utahns.

“Unfortunately not. Just got back into town today.” I shrug, turning my palms up, jealous that I’m not here full time and can’t ski when I feel like it. I swear V and Tanner rubbed off on me too much over the holidays.

“Bummer.” She takes her bar towel and wipes the spot in front of me clean. “So what can I get you tonight?”

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