Page 77 of Undone

“Damn, you’ve been neglecting to tell us some things on Facebook, girl.”

“Yeah, well… I couldn’t. He said if I posted anything or any pictures—it could make me a target.”

“I want to hear all about him.” Tanya rests her chin in her hand, fingers running over the table cloth.

“There’s nothing to tell. He was just your average douchebag guy; telling you all the shit you want to hear then disappearing the second the sun came up.”

“Asshole,” they all murmur, taking sips of their drinks.

“Pretty much,” I agree, looking away. My eyes catch a man staring at me through the window. His broad shoulders hunch slightly as the wind rips outside. It tousles his dark hair. His sharp eyes cut through the glass—staring at me.

“Holy shit, girl. Forget that guy in Oregon. That man is homing in on you like you are his lost satellite beacon.”

“Yeah right. I probably have a piece of lettuce stuck between my teeth.” But when I look up—he’s gone.

“You’re not seriously considering staying in Oregon permanently anyway, are you? Is there anything there besides woods?”

“I signed a contract. I’ll honor it. I can’t leave those kids.”

“You always did get attached too soon.”

I flinch, knowing Tanya was referring to the kids I teach, but it feels as though she hit a mark.

For the rest of the day, I smiled when appropriate; somehow faking my way through lunch and the rest of the bridal festivities. At least no one asked any more questions about Springdale or Smith. Each of my old friends were too relaxed and pampered at the spa Tanya’s finance booked for us.

I wouldn’t have come home for this. Tanya and I haven’t been close for years. But I thought I could put distance between myself and heartache, but it still clings to me like an invisible cloak anyway.

“Luce? Did you pack something besides flannel shirts and jeans?” Tanya’s clearly frustrated by my lack of clubbing attire.

The rest of the girls snicker. Still groggy from my nap, I stare at the cluster of scantily clad woman at my door.

“Never mind. We’ll be late for our reservations.” My hand is tugged forward and the door to my hotel room clicks shut.

“Crap! I’m locked out—I don’t have my keycard.”

Ignoring my protests, I’m dragged down the hall and pushed into a room. My nose wrinkles as the smell of five different perfumes fill the air mixed with… tequila? Yep, definitely tequila. The empty bottle sits on a desk.

Swaying in their ridiculous heels, the group of them giggle, as they push me onto the bed smack into a pile of discarded clothes. Tanya and Amy, discuss me; debating how to style me for the night as if I’m not even sitting here. Sara, a teacher I used to work with leans down, “Plaster a smile on your face. Or it’ll get worse.”

“You noticed that I kind of hate weddings?”

She hands me a shot. “I’m not as self-absorbed as those two.”

I take the shot, feeling the alcohol burn like fire as it travels down to my empty stomach.

“Whoa.”

“Another one?”

“Maybe after dinner.”

Tanya holds a slinky black dress from a fingertip, arcing an eyebrow at me.

“That’s a slip, right?”

“Wrong. Put it on.”

“Are you crazy? It’s below zero with the wind chill.”

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