Page 72 of The Other Side of Paradise
He called out, “Allison—good morning!” and I froze up, tensing and looking over to where things just got worse at the sight of Brooklyn, sitting at the bar with a curious smile my way, out on the customers’ side of the bar. Ramón waved, beaming, and I gave him a thin, fake smile. He had no idea what he’d just dragged me into.
“You’re not on the schedule today,” Brooklyn said lightly. “What, couldn’t help wanting to see me?”
Oh, god. I wasnotletting her find out what had happened, find out… why I was at the resort. I shot her a look. Come to think of it, she wasn’t in her uniform. “What areyoudoing here, anyway?” I said. “You’re not on today, either. Don’t tell me you had a fight with your girlfriend and that’s why you’re drinking alone at the bar…”
She smiled wider for some reason I didn’t want to know. “Ryan’s inside talking to her parents. I’m on standby for emotional support.”
Well, that shot me down. “Oh… well,” I said, “aren’t we big softies?”
She flashed teeth in a grin. “So, where’s Stella?”
Oh, god, I was done for. “Uh—” I looked away, hands in my pockets. “I dunno? I’m not her keeper.”
She didn’t let up. “She didn’t tell you where she was going?”
“Why… why would she?” I shifted awkwardly on the spot, feeling like I needed to itch my own scalp off. “I dunno. Ask Ryan. I’ve gotta get back to my place.”
She raised her eyebrows. “What, Stella kicked you out?”
IkickedStellaout. Which was the weirdest fucking thing to ever happen. “She wasn’t—”
“Oh—” Brooklyn relaxed. “She just had to go for the family meetup, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, and then I realized I’d fucked up—that I wasn’t supposed to be admitting to having spent the night in Stella’s room anyway. I felt the color drain from my face, and I said, “We were, uh—hanging out.” Dammit, I sucked at lying.
She laughed. “Congratulations.”
“There’s nothing to congratulate,” I hissed, shoulders hunched. “I just came around to see her!”
She tipped her drink back, setting it down on the bar top and standing, with a, “You don’t think I’m letting you get away without telling me more.”
I bristled. “There’s nothing to tell!”
“Come on. We’ll go to a quieter corner where your coworkers can’t overhear.”
“There’s nothing to overhear!”
She smiled sweetly. “You can tell me in confidence, or I’ll speculate with Ryan.”
Fuck me. I went with her. She took me to a quiet corner, secluded from everything else, tucked in at the far side of the pool level, with a wooden lattice looking out on the other side of the botanical gardens, the thatched walls of the back of the bar closing us in, sitting at a table under creeping vines and paper lanterns that was probably perfect for a secret tryst. Or for secret conversations about a tryst I never should have had.
Once we’d sat down together, Brooklyn leaning back and kicking one leg up over the other, she said casually, “Ryan hadtold me that Stella might have been curious,” and I groaned, my hands on my face.
“I don’t know what the fuck is happening,” I mumbled.
“Well, did you have sex, or not?”
Jesus Christ. That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? “Um.” I cleared my throat. “Not… exactly? Kind of?”
“How do youkind ofhave sex?” she said incredulously, and I considered running off into the gardens, disappearing, catching a flight in the middle of the night, and starting a new life under a new name a thousand miles away. I’d probably fuck up that life, too, though.
“Oh, Jesus, I’m not explaining it,” I groaned, and she laughed.
“Explain it or I’ll ask Stella, andshe’llprobably explain it.”
“Oh, god, she would,” I sighed. “We didn’t…” I started, every word like pulling teeth, “exactly… do anythingtoeach other…”
Through my fingers over my face, I saw her smiling, really trying not to laugh. I appreciated the effort. “So you masturbated together, is what you’re saying.”
