“You know me better than anyone!” he shouts, taking a step closer as I take one back. “I’ve never had to explain anything to anyone…I’m not doing a good job at it.”
“You can say that again,” I snip back at him.
“Let’s get out of here and talk.”
“Colton?” a seductive female voice calls to him from over my shoulder. Everything in my body tenses at the sound. Colton’s face blanches.
“Out!” He grates between gritted teeth at her.
I unclench my jaw and take in a deep breath. “Talking’s overrated. Besides, it’s obvious you found someone to help you bury the hurt.” I nod my head toward the door behind me. “And you know what? I think it’s time I try it too.” I shrug. “See if finding a guy for the night fixes everything like you seem to think it does.”
“No!” The pained look of desperation on his face upsets me, but I’m so far past caring right now. So far past feeling. So numb.
“Why not? What’s good for the goose and all that,” I say, adding another animal to the imaginary menagerie I'm building as he just stares at me. One last look. “Enjoy your cocktail party, Ace.”
I wander aimlessly around the resort for what feels like an eternity. I watch the sun sink into the horizon, snuffing out the light of the day like the emotions darkened in my heart. Sadness overwhelms me but it’s nothing new since I’ve been there the past few weeks anyway. I think it’s worse because I allowed myself to believe that when I went to Colton, he’d accept why I was upset and that would be it. I never thought he’d play the idiotic game he did to purposely try and hurt me further.
I replay his admission to me over and over in my mind. His acknowledgement that he uses women to bury his hurt. On one hand I understand him a bit better now, but on the other it tells me that I really know nothing of his past—of the things that make him who he is.
But he’s so in denial—or maybe so used to getting away with things—that he doesn’t even realize the excuses he’s giving for his actions are inexcusable.
As I take a seat on a bench in one of the many gardens of the hotel, my phone rings. I look down, debating on answering it, but know that this might be the one person that might help me get my head on straight.
“Hey, Had,” I say, trying to muster up as much normalcy as possible.
“What happened?” Her insistent tone rings through the phone line loud and clear. I guess I failed at fooling her.
The tears come. They don’t stop. When they eventually subside, I relay the events of the evening. Haddie speaks. “That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
What? “Come again?”
“Well first of all, Tawny. She’s just a jealous bitch trying to get to you and she succeeded!”
“Whatever…” I blow my nose, completely dismissing Haddie’s remark.
“Seriously, Ry…that’s like Bitch 101. If you can’t have the guy, make the girl the guy wants doubt him so that you can have him.” She sighs loudly. “I’m not proud to say it, but I’ve done the exact same thing before.”
“Seriously?” My mind starts to comprehend what she’s saying.
“Rylee…for a smart girl sometimes you’re really dumb.”
“Way to add insult to injury, Had.”
“Sorry, but it’s true. You’re so wrapped up in your own head right now that you’re not seeing it from the outside. If Colton wanted to fuck around, then why would he pursue you relentlessly? The guy’s got it bad for you, Ry. Tawny’s just one of those devious bitches that’s going to get her due sometime. I hope Karma kicks that bitch’s ass sooner than later.”
I start to hear what Haddie is saying. When the hell did dating become so complicated? When the someone you’re dating is so incredibly worth the fight.
“I hear what you’re saying, Haddie, but what about tonight then? The kiss. The…he cheated on me.” I breathe the last part out.
“Did he though?” she says, and it lingers on the line between us.
“Fucking Christ, Haddie! You’re not helping me here.” I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“I’m not in your shoes, Ry. I can’t tell you what to do—what to feel—all I can tell you is to use your gut instinct.” She sighs. “Women are vicious bitches and men are confusing bastards—you just have to figure out which of the two you trust the most.”
“Fuck!” I groan, feeling less resolved than when our conversation began.
“Love ya, Ry.”
“Love ya, Had.”
I hang the phone up and walk some more along the edge of the golf course thinking about Haddie’s comments and lack of advice. I wander around the grounds of the resort, attempting to stop my mind from thinking, but I’m unsuccessful. I walk past one of the hotel cocktail lounges and uncharacteristically find myself turning into it and taking a seat at the bar. The lounge is not overtly busy, but it’s not quiet by any means either. Both the bar and the various tables are peppered with patrons, some alone and others coupled here and there.
It’s not until I take a seat that I realize how much the arches of my feet ache from my heels and my aimless wandering. I look up at the clock on the wall and am astounded to see that over two hours have passed.
I lean into the back of the chair and shake my head at the day’s chain of events that have hit me like a head-on collision. I order a drink and take a long sip on the straw as my attention turns to the television in the corner to the right of me. Of course the channel is on something or other pertaining to the race tomorrow—the whole city has been transformed for the road track—so I can understand why the television is tuned to it. Unfortunately for me, the panel of men on the program discuss one Colton Donavan and review his highlights from last year. Images of the number thirteen car at various venues flash on the screen. I swear I can’t escape the man no matter where I go.