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One year later
Bliss
For a long time, I believed that couples who had big, beautiful, extravagant weddings would never last. That they spent all that money to make up for the love that they lacked. I thought I had it figured out, but then again my parents filed for divorce when I was young, and I knew it didn’t matter how much you spent on the wedding, not everyone makes it. My parents were married at the courthouse a year before I was born, and right before my dad made partner at his firm. For years, I thought they were madly in love. Mom is a modern-day hippie with her eccentric ways and her need to feel free. Dad is the complete opposite, he likes things a certain way. He collected a certain kind of control and my mom couldn’t stand it. I didn’t see it but, according to my parents, this had been coming for years. They claim they still love each other but are better apart. I lived with my mom in Palm Springs and visited dad in Los Angeles in the summer, but now, for the last two years, I live full time in L.A. near my dad while I start my third year at college.
A rambling voice brings me back to reality and I look at, Dex, my now ex-boyfriend. I mean, I really look at him as he explains why I found him with his pants around his ankles and a girl on her pretty little knees ten minutes ago in his living room. Why am I even listening to him explain? No idea. Maybe because I’m now seeing that we would have been a big wedding kind of couple. Definitely. I should have known better. My dad told me stay away from college boys, he really warned me about athletes. Dex is cute, with the whole American boy thing going on, all blue eyes and blonde hair. Baseball player, scratch that, he’s just a player in general, and a waste of my time.
I pick a piece of invisible lint off my cream tank top. “So, are we done here? Because I have a tutoring session in like thirty minutes.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “So, we’re good? I messed up, babe but just give me a chance.”
Yeah, I heard that before in all the movies where the guy cheats.
“Yeah, no. It’s still over. I just have to go. So, you can stop explaining now. Your button fell off and you didn’t have a belt, so your pants fell along with your boxers. You just happened to be hard and she was only helping you look for the button. Right? Am I missing anything?” I innocently tilt my head to the side, batting my eyelashes.
His eyebrows draw in confused. “I have a 4.0, Dex. Don’t insult my intelligence. It sounds stupid when you hear it back doesn’t it?” I take a deep breath. “Well, I must be on my way. Best of luck on finding that button!” Turning on my heels, I walk out his front door and into the L.A. heat.
Summertime is gorgeous in southern California, and I would die without the breeze. After visiting New York one summer, I will never take my hometown for granted ever again. Humidity does nothing for my hair.
I hurry down the staircase, before Dex has a chance to catch me, I’ll shoot myself in the head if he tries to explain any more than he has already. Does he really think I’m some airhead because my hair is blonde? I’m not even a real blonde, you can tell by my dark roots. Although, I have told him this fact a million times.
Glancing at the time on my phone, I see I barely have time to grab an iced coffee, before going to the library for my new tutoring session with some mystery guy. His parents are the ones who sought me out. After they realized I had no idea who their son was I was hired to be his tutor. Oh yeah, I was given three little rules also. One, never bring up basketball. Two, never bring up some guys name I don’t even remember, because I have no idea who he is. Three, tell them if he’s ever under the influence. I think I can manage the first two, but three is a little hard. They are paying me to get him caught up to graduate this year, not to be his babysitter.
Luckily, my ex lives near campus and I’m already half way there. Trekking across the grass fields, I see one of my favorite coffee vendors and, thankfully, he has no line. He sees me coming and offers a smile.
Nick is a nice guy, even after my best friend kicked him to the curb like yesterday’s news. India is one of those love’em and leave’em kind of girls, and poor Nick fell hard for her southern charm.
“Mocha double shot iced coffee coming right up.” Nick winks at me, as he scoops up some ice.
“Music to my ears, I have like five minutes to get to my tutoring session. Hopefully he’s running late.”
Nick laughs as he makes my drink. “Who’s the lucky soul this time?”
I smile, he knows everyone. “Cuba Knight, I think that’s his last name.”
Coffee splashes over his apron. “Shit, sorry.”
“You okay?” I frown as he cleans up the mess and starts remaking my drink.
“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” He doesn’t look up.
“So, do you know this Cuba person?” I press. Nick usually tells me everything about my new clients, but he’s gone strangely silent.
Putting a top on my coffee, he looks at me, no smile. “Not much to say on that one, just be careful.”
“Careful how? Is he dangerous?” I hand him my card and he waves it off as usual.
Nick frowns as if he's thinking on how to explain it. “I wouldn't say dangerous, he's been kind of MIA for a while. Just don't ask about anything personal. Keep it strictly tutoring.”
Taking a much-needed sip of my coffee, I nod. “Yeah, I have a few rules to follow. No talk of basketball and some guy, I can't remember his name.”
“Jackson.” Nick looks away. “Don't bring him up. Look, just don't get personal with Cuba. Trust me.” He looks behind me. “You need to get moving, and I have more coffee to make.”
Turning my head, I see a line forming, oops. I turn back to Nick and tip my coffee to him. “Until next time.”
Taking his advice, I keep on my short journey to the library where I will soon meet this mysterious man. I just need to do my job tutoring him this summer and I'll probably never see him once classes start in the fall. That's usually how it goes.
Entering the front doors, the smell of books and stale coffee hit me, and I feel at home. I lived in the library growing up, always reading random things. I love history, more like, I’m obsessed with it, learning how history was shaped and molded. The little pieces that fit together from all over the world. How wars started and finished. It's all awesome in a way. Guess that's how I became a history major. My parents didn't blink an eye when I told them that I was going to be a history teacher. My dad hoped I would have changed my mind and go into nursing school, or law school, hell, even medical school but nope, I'm a year away from being a teacher.
