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My hands form fists by my side. “How would you know if it is or isn’t me?”
I brace myself for him to say it—that I’mboring—but then decide I don’t have to stand here and let him insult me.
“Actually, forget it. I need some air.” I start down the path away from our little hotel, then look back at him. “Anddon’tfollow me.”
He freezes. I shoot him a warning glare for good measure and then continue down the path.
“Lori!” he calls after me.
I don’t slow my pace, only yell back, “I mean it!”
He doesn’t follow me. I don’t have any clear destination in mind; I only know that I don’t want to be near either of the Murray siblings right now. I’m not even mad anymore. The anger dissipates the farther I walk from the hotel. Now I’m . . . sad. And a little uncertain. What do I do now? Where do I go from here?
I don’t know what time it is, but there are still so many people out and about, walking with friends and family and enjoying the warm night. People wave at me as we cross paths, and I wonder if I look that happy walking around the resort.
Eventually my feet find their way back to the pool party, but I stop once it comes into view. I’m not really in a party mood, but I don’t have anywhere to go, so instead I sit on a bench dimly lit by one of the path lights.
“Hey,” says a voice, and I look up to find Dean.
“Hey,” I reply.
Behind him the party rages on. The music’s at full blast and the place is still packed. People are shrieking and laughing and giggling and splashing in the pool, and a pang of sadness hits me as I realize that was me an hour ago.
He gestures to the bench. “Mind if I sit?” he asks almost timidly. I’ve never seen Dean so unsure of himself, and then I remember how I ran from him right after our almost-kiss.
Dang it.
I spent so much time daydreaming about that exact situation—about his hands on my waist, my hands on the back of his neck, the feel of his body pressed against mine, the butterflies in my stomach, his lips on mine—and then I screwed it all up by running away from him right after we were interrupted. It’s probably too much to hope he’ll jokingly reprimand me for running from him like he has in the past, not now, not when my actions hold significantly more weight.
“Sure,” I reply, and even though he sits beside me, the space he leaves between us is almost mocking.
He hitches his thumb toward the party. “All the guys left.
At least, I think so. I’m sharing the room with Kellan tonight and I haven’t seen him, but he’s got the key, so I hope he’s in the room.” Dean gives a little laugh.
“He’s at the hotel, yeah,” I tell him, refusing to specifywherein the hotel he is. I’m sure by now he’s left our room and returned to his own; at least I hope he did before he runs into Adam in the halls.
Dean nods and pulls something out of his pocket. “You told me you’d be back, and I have your phone, so I stayed put, but after a while I figured you weren’t planning on coming back, so . . .”
He trails off and guilt punches me in the stomach. I ditched him after he spent all night making sure I had fun, then I forced him to wait around for me.
“I’m really sorry,” I say, taking my phone from his outstretched hand. The weight of it is a reminder of what he did for me tonight, how he took the phone so I wouldn’t obsess over my mom and med school, and then distracted me with the dance-off.
“It’s okay,” he replies, a welcoming smile still on his face.
My gaze drops to the phone in my lap. He’s so sweet, so understanding. He’s not upset at all with me.
“Is everything okay?” he asks me after a few moments of silence.
This whole trip has made me confused about who I am.
Apparently Faye thinks I’m perfect and have all my “shit” together, when I usually feel like I’m anything but. If that was true, wouldn’t I know exactly what I want to do with my future?
Wouldn’t I be happy to get my life sciences degree and then go to med school like my parents have always planned? I wouldn’t get sick at the thought of that future if I was perfect and had everything together. Besides, isn’t that just another way of saying I’mboring, like Adam’s been telling me? He thinks I’msweetandpredictable, and if that’s true, that would mean I’ll do the predictable thing and follow through with the future planned out for me. If that’s true, that means I’m going to wake up every morning hating my life, hating my career, dreading the future. I don’t want that, but is that what I’m going to do anyway because that’s who I am? Someone who always does what’s expected of them?
I remember that day at the beach with Dean our first night here, when he shared how he started standing up for what he wants and about his twin, Dustin. He told me life’s too short to let other people make my decisions for me. He told me to go after what I want. Faye basically made my decision for me by saying it doesn’t matter if I want Adam because I can’t be with him, and Adam has basically been telling me I’m incapable of going after what I want because it’s not like me. Maybe because Dean doesn’t really know me, he hasn’t put me in a box like they have, but deep down I know it’s more than that. Dean sees more than I give him credit for, and I trust he’ll be honest with me.
“Do you think I’m boring?” I blurt.
