Page 13 of The Other Side of Paradise
Ugh—what, did she want me to try it with a straight girl? I mean—Stella was probably straight and I was, well… I scowled. “I’m not sleeping with a closet case here with a husband.”
“Oh, it’s usually the gal pal bunches anyway. Like that sorority group that came through earlier—all of that aggressive heterosexual energy, someone there is just performing it. I guarantee you at least one of them masturbates to lesbian erotica and keeps it a secret.”
Oh, god. I wondered if that was true. That out on this island right now, there was a queer girl who would absolutely be interested in me showing them… the ropes. There was something deeply, desperately wrong with me, because the thought was, well, uh, hot.
I mean, fuck me, that was probably because I was thinking of Stella as that girl. I wondered if she masturbated to lesbian erotica in secret. Jesus, I’d actually die here right now if I thought about that any further.
That was probably the biggest reason I needed to do something about this. Desperately needed to find some other girl to distract myself with before I experienced spontaneous human combustion fantasizing about Stella Valerie Bell.
“Yeah,” I said, keeping my voice casual, “I’d do it.”
She smiled wider. “Then I’m on it,” she said. “We’ll find you a girl. Possibly one who needs a little awakening.”
Stella still came to mind. Jesus Christ, I had issues. Did she need a little awakening?
Ineeded an awakening. Someone to shake me by the shoulders so I woke up and stopped daydreaming about a clearly unattainable woman. I felt my face burning, and I tried to keep it cool as I said, “Cool, yeah, works for me. Just don’t expect this to become a thing.”
She laughed. “Genuinely no idea what to expect right now. Can’t wait to find out.”
Jesus, yeah, me neither. I doubted it involved Stella. Despite what my wild wandering mind wanted.
Chapter 6
Stella
I’d gone to bed hoping somehow Ryan would show up and the whole family would stop being such a disaster, and I got half of what I wanted—Ryan showed up in the morning. The other half, well, maybe not so much.
We’d been out on the beach again with an armload of snacks from the café just on the corner, enjoying being just a short walk away from beautiful white-sand beach and sunshine, and I’d poured all my frustrations into swimming as hard as I could. Dad pretended like nothing had happened last night while people were around, putting on a smile and being his usual quiet self, but I still felt the wound of thelookhe’d given me last night—like he was a stranger, and I was scared to be around him. Going out into the ocean and swimming until it hurt felt like the practical solution given that. Mom was scowling the whole time, lying in her beach recliner with sunglasses on reading a book, and honestly, I could be forgiven for thinking she was less worried about Ryan and more annoyed that she’d given them the slip.
I didn’t know whether to be pissed off with Ryan for making this whole scene or kinda respect her for how readilyshe’d flipped off the whole family and vanished. I’d just been ranting with Oscar about it—well,atOscar—on our way back up from the beach when Oscar looked up and waved across the grass-lined paths between the resort and the beach, and I followed his gaze to where Ryan came striding back along the side of the volleyball court, quiet and empty right now in the early morning. She had a look like a woman on a mission, and I shot her a wild look as Oscar spoke as easily and as casually as if he’d expected her.
“I was wondering if you’d come back,” he said, and I put my hands up.
“There you are,” I said. “Where the hell did you go?”
Ryan spoke breezily, barely acknowledging us, her gaze flicking around the area. “I told you. I was visiting someone.” She sighed shortly, and she stood closer to us, shielding her eyes against the sun. “How’s everything been?”
Oscar spoke as if nothing had happened. “Yeah, pretty good,” he said. “Helena wanted to go swimming first thing, so we woke up and had some quick snacks at the café and hit the beach, me and her, Stella, Mom and Dad, Nicole… well, Mom stayed on the beach reading.”
I gave him a loaded sigh. “Mom stayed on the beach because she’s in an awful mood,” I said, turning to Ryan. “And she was specifically mad aboutyou, Ryan. What did you do that you had to go run away from everything for? And who’s thisfriendyou’re visiting?”
Ryan spoke in a brisk, airy tone, looking past us. “Her name’s Brooklyn,” she said. “She’s really nice. Works at the bar here. Let me know that Shane tried to cheat on me with her, and let me stay the night with her when he got pissed off about me dumping him and wouldn’t let me stay the night here. She makes a damn good pizza.”
I felt like I got hit in the gut, mouth falling open as I searched for words. “Hecheatedon you?” I blurted. Shit, but Iknewit. Iknewhe’d been—Iknewhe was just looking for his chance. I knew his type. But still—I shook my head. “And you went and hung out with the homewrecker?”
Ryan shook her head, a distant look in her eyes—woman was shaken up, barely there. Clearly here to do something and just powering through to get to that point. “Hardly a homewrecker…” she said, her voice a little small, weak. “She didn’t sleep with him in the end because she realized he had a girlfriend, so she called it off and tracked me down to tell me. So. That happened. Where’s Mom now?”
Oscar let out a low whistle, like this was all justoops, awkward.“Damn,” he said. “Guess we jinxed it, huh? Sorry, uh… sorry about that.”
Ugh—I guess they’d been talking about a comment I’d made, when I told Ryan he was going to start acting up if he wasn’t proposing. I pinched my nose. “Oh my god,” I said. “This is what I’m talking about! I wastellingyou, you let him wander off on his own devices that much, this is going to happen!”
Ryan made a noncommittal noise, looking out in the direction of the beach, and she said, “Well, you’ll be delighted to know it’s not his first time.”
I cringed. “He’sbeencheating?”
“Yup.”
“What a fucking asshole,” I said, positivelyitchingout to my fingertips. I’d never really even cared about Ryan’s love life—she was boring and so was her dating history—but I wasn’t clueless about the fact that it represented a lot more than just one sleazy man trying to fuck someone on the side. “This is why you don’t date players,” I muttered. “They’re never really reformed.”
