Page 84 of Not Your Basic Love Story

“Hey, it’s me,” said Dev through the door. “Can I get you anything?”

I sniffed. “Yeah. Um. Can you find me something to wear, please?”

“Of course. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I listened for his retreating footsteps to disappear and then made my escape. I walked down the empty hall, everyone apparently outside, and found my way to the side door next to the garage. I needed fresh air. A minute alone. A minute to think, to process.

It was beginning to get dark outside, but the moon was up and full. I walked along the side of the house until I found a rock to sit on, nestled amongst some professionally maintained flowers and shrubs. Then, and only then, in the near-darkness and the stillness and the silence, did I allow myself to cry. Not loudly; there would be time for that later. Silent tears slid down my face, likely messing up my makeup, which would go well with my ruined dress.

It had all gone to shit. My family was gone. My friends were gone. I was alone here, with these strangers—these strangers who were supposed to become my family in a few short weeks. A deep sense of not belonging filled my chest, of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

My pity party was interrupted by the sound of two men approaching, talking to one another. They walked right past me as I was hidden in the dark tucked away behind a corner of the house. The smell of weed accompanied them as they passed a joint back and forth. One of the guys was Moe.

It was impossible not to eavesdrop, and I certainly wasn’t going to make my presence known. The last thing I wanted was for them to see me in this state, sitting in the dark and crying like a weirdo.

“Seriously though, I remember that Angelina girl from Mexico. Don’t you?” Moe stated, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“The slutty blonde? Shit, yeah. I remember Becky, too, only barely. Didn’t she turn you down?”

“That gori bitch? Hell no, she isn’t my type.”

The other guy laughed. “Anything with legs is your type, bro.”

Moe spat on the ground. “She’s too white for me.”

“You don’t have a white girl fetish? Oh yeah, I forgot, you’re into that lemon party shit.”

“Hey, fuck you!” Moe shoved him playfully. “Seriously though, I’m shocked this is happening. Banging a white girl on the side is one thing, but bringing one home to mama?”

The other guy agreed, muttering something about Dev being some kind of nut before the pair disappeared around the corner of the house.

It took me a moment to remind myself to breathe.

A white-girl fetish? That’s a thing? Is that what everyone thought about my and Dev’s relationship?

I was done with this party.

Once inside the house, I walked down the hall and back to the kitchen, hoping I’d find Dev along the way. Maybe talking to him would make me feel better. He had a way of making things make sense.

Not seeing him in the kitchen, I went upstairs to go get my trench coat from his room, remembering I’d left my phone in my pocket.

As I turned the corner to his suite, I looked up to see he was already in there.

“Oh, there you are,” he said, his eyes wide.

“Yeah. Coming to get my coat and call myself a cab.”

“What? You’re leaving?”

I shrugged. “No point in staying.”

“Let me drive you, at least,” he said.

Before I could agree, the door to Dev’s ensuite opened, and Sonja walked out. She paused, looking between the two of us, a deer caught in headlights.

I glared from her to Dev, a sick feeling in my stomach making its way up my throat. Then, before they could protest, I grabbed my jacket and ran out the door.

“Wait!” he called, chasing after me as I descended the stairs.

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