Broken Fairytales (21 page)

I was just about to get up and walk around when someone sat down next to me.
A
cup o
f beer was put in front of me.
I took it and looked over at who had put it there, expecting Molly or
Chase
, b
ut
it wasn’t either of them.
Cute Coffeehouse Guy
was sitting next to me, sipping his beer and looking at me
appraisingly
.
I noticed a small ring in his right eyebrow that definitely hadn’t been there the night we’d met.

“Go
on
, drink it,” he said. “I promise I didn’t put anything in it.”

“Thanks,
I think,
” I said, smiling slightly. “I honestly wasn’t thinking
it was laced
until you mentioned it. Now I have to admit I’m a little skeptical.”

He
smirked at me before
flipped his dark hair out of his eyes and looked out
at
the bonfire.

“Naw, I wouldn’t do that.”

I studied his profile.
He
seemed to be lost in thought.
His eyes
had a far off look in them
.
It was the same look I’d seen at the coffeehouse when he’
d zoned out for a few seconds
, but it seemed to be etched deeper into his eyes
.
I took the opportunity to gaze at him
without fear of
getting
caught.
He had a strong, straight nose, a feature I found to be essential
in order for a guy to be hot
.
His lips were full and pink,
and
totally kissable
. I was drawn to them.
I wanted to r
each out and touch them, trace
them with my finger.

Before I
knew what was happening,
Cute Coffeehouse Guy
turned and looked right at m
e, catching me staring at him.

“Are you checking me out?”
he asked
, smirking slightly
.
His
sexy southern accent
made him exponentially hotter
.

I felt my face blush scarlet and
instan
tly looked down at my lap. Then
I decided that I w
ouldn’t let that embarrass me.
I was checking him out, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.
The new
,
more confident me was pushing
her way
to the surface.

“I was,” I said, trying
to sound bold
, as I took a long pull from my drink. I wasn’t nearly intoxicated enough for this conversation
.

“And?”

“What do you mean, and?” I asked, noticing
how clear his eyes were
with the firelight bouncing off them,
as they look
ed
down into my own
brown ones that seemed so dull
all of a sudden.

“And
what do you think?”

God
his accent was sexy.
I don’t know if it was the beer or th
e fact that I was suddenly interested in
throwing caution to the wind, but I said
matter-of-factly
, “You have very kissable lips.”

He laughed, a
big, robust laugh,
before
look
ing away and shaking his head.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, as he looked back down at me
, his hair falling
forward into his eyes
a bit
.

I nodded
and reached my hand up to push his hair out of his eyes, not really knowing what was surging me to be so brazen with a guy I hardly knew
.

“Do you want to kiss them?” he asked, half-mocking, half-serious
once I brought my hand back down to my lap
.

“Yes,” I said, honestly.
“But
I have a boyfriend, so no.”

He shrugged.
“That’s too bad. Kissing you would have been fun.” 

With that he picked up his beer, got up and walked over to a group of people I’d met
the night
before.
As he walked, he pulled
out
the
brown
cigarette that had been resting behind his ear and put it in his mouth, lighting it with one
hand.
I was left sitting on the log, completely dumbfounded, as I tried to wrap my head around what had just happened.

I decided
that I needed some air, so I walked down to the waters ed
ge, letting the cool breeze blow
over me and the water rush and then retreat over my
bare
feet.
I looked back fo
r a moment and located
Coffeehouse Guy
still
talking to th
e group of people he’d joined.
He looked up and met my
eyes for a moment and smiled.
I looked away, embarrassed that I
’d gotten caught staring at him
again.
Then I snuck another glance back and got all warm inside when I realized he was still staring.

That night I went to bed thinking about h
im and his very kissable lips.
The next morning, I woke up feeling very guilty for thinking about his lips and vowed not to even
think
about straying from Ben again.

Chapter
Twelve

Fortunately, I didn’t see
Coffeehouse Guy
or his kissable lips
for the next few nights.
He wasn’t at any of the parties we went to, ev
en though, I am ashamed to admit
,
I looked
for him.

As our second week at the beach wore on, the days sort of mel
ted together into one with
small variations between them
.
My dad came up for the weekend, so we did family stuff during the day, like kayaking and fishing. My parents were intent on making some family memories, corralling us kids together for some good clean fun. But at night, while my parents sipped wine on the back porch
and enjoyed the limited time they had together
, we were free to do what we wanted.

During the week, while my dad was back at work in Charlotte, my mom allowed us the freedom she knew we wanted.
Every day Chase and I would go down to the beach
.
Sometimes Molly would join us, and when Keely wasn’t with Matt, she would meet up with us
.
Chase and I still maintained our
mostly
silent interactions, but we were hanging out, so th
at had to count for something.
A
t night
I would follow him and
Molly
to
the beach
for a bonfire
or t
o someone’s house for a party.
It seemed Molly
knew everyone around
our age on the island
.

She explained that she’d been summe
ring there since she was three.
She had family in the states, so for a month each year,
her family
would come over from England
and they would gather with her m
om’s
sisters and their families
.
They were all staying
in the huge house we’d picked Molly up from that first night.

As I got to know her, I
dropped almost
all of the
preconceptions
I’d gained from her overall look, the fact that s
he hung out with my brother
,
and
that she smoked weed.
I was starting to let s
ome of my walls
down little by little, as I t
r
i
ed to open myself up to the new and different world that was suddenly all around me.
 

When I opened my eyes,
I saw that not everyone was as ‘
out there’ as Chase and Molly.
In fact, most of the people we hung arou
nd were normal on many levels.
That firs
t night, I must have had tunnel
vision thi
nking that I was so different.
I’d met many people who dressed just like me and probably ha
d lives similar to me at home.
I wasn’t that out of place, as it turned out, but even still, I was set on broadening my horizons.

So
it w
as almost fitting
that
the week
after I’d met Molly and was exposed to this new side of myself,
I de
cided to do something d
rastic, something significant
to make the summer memorable
.
I d
ecided to get my nose pierced.

A piercing had never bee
n something I’d wanted, but I felt the need to do som
ething bold, make a statement.
I figured a nose ring was somewhat tasteful
and it
seemed less of a cliché than the belly button rings that
so many girls had
, including Rachel and my sister.

Once I made my
decision, I went
directly to some
o
ne who would know a
ll about it. I talked to Molly.
She was all for going with me, but she insisted on something I’d never done before as a p
reparation.
She said she’d smoked
before getting every
one of her piercin
gs, which I learned she had six
– nose, lip, t
ongue,
both nipples
and one in a more private area that made me cringe as she told me about it
.
She said
smoking
helped her to relax and stifled some of the pain
.

But
I just couldn’t do it. As much as I didn’t want to judge her decisions, I knew smoking wasn’t for me. So
she insisted I at least be buzzed, telling me there was no way I’d want to be sober when I saw the needle they’d use. Unfortunately, all she could rustle up was whiskey.
So
I grudgingly choked down three shot glasses full of the brown liquid that tasted like rubbing alcohol and burned my insides
as it went down
.

It was disgusting, but it succeeded in
essentially numbing my senses just enough that when the needle pierced through my skin, I only screamed a little.
Molly held my hand and let me squeeze it as hard as I want
ed, which must have been pretty hard since she let out a breath relief when I finally let go. Yeah, okay, so it really hurt.

The next morning, I stood in front of my mirror for a good twenty minutes looking the tiny sapphir
e stud in my left nostril trying to decide if I liked it or not.
It
still
hurt like hell and was a little red right around the area that had been pierce
d, but overall, it looked pretty good.
I’d wanted a hoop, but the piercer guy had made me choos
e a stud with a straight post, so I went with my birthstone.
He said I could change it out in a few weeks once it healed completely. 

I brought my finger to the tip and touched it lightly, feeling a mix of exhilaration that I’d done someth
ing so radical and
dread for what
my
parents
would s
ay.
Of course, Chase had a
facial
piercing, and they didn’t care, but again, he was Chase
,
and I was me.  It was a double standard most of the time when it came to us doing
certain
things.
With him it was expected, and with me it was frowned upon.

Keely was the first
person to know
since she showed up in my room a few minutes after I got done ogling my reflection and was changing into my navy blue bathing suit that I thought would match the sapphire in my piercing.

Her eyes bugged out for a second, but then she smiled and said,
“That is so cool.
I totally want one.”

I laughed at her, telling her I would be happy to go
with her, if she wanted me to.
She said she’d th
ink about it, so I knew her desire
for a third hol
e in her nose was short-lived.
Still
she kept staring at me as we made our way downstairs, shaking her head in disbelief.