Page 3 of Myself

“I’m not making shit up!” I yell, the people staring at me as they pass us to enter the restrooms. “I saw you.”

“You saw nothing,” he shouts back.

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” I come out and ask him. I wouldn’t normally be this blunt with him, but the alcohol I’ve consumed is making it hard to keep my mouth shut.

He lets out a long breath. “Fuck, why do you always have to overreact?”

I fist my hands down by my side in anger. “And why do you have to hurt me?” I demand as my eyes start to fill with tears. They’re angry tears.

“I don’t hurt you! You hurt yourself because you are a crazy, jealous bitch, and I can’t do anything right. You always question everything that I do,” he spits, throwing his hands in the air.

“That’s because you do some shady shit!” I scream.

After what felt like thirty minutes of fighting inside the club, I had returned to our hotel room and took a hot shower and cried myself to sleep. I’m not sure what time he returned, but I know it was late.

“What?” I ask flatly as I watch the people set up their umbrellas and beach towels for a nice relaxing day on the beach. Wish I could relax.

“It’s going to fucking rain,” he growls, looking out at the dark clouds in the distance. They look terrifyingly dark but also beautiful in their own way. “I’m so sick and tired of fucking rain.” And with that statement, he turns and walks back into our hotel room.

I hang my head and run a hand through my dark hair. I feel like Conner is drowning me. He was once someone I thought was the one. But slowly, over time, he has dragged me out to the deep end, and he just keeps pulling me under. And every time, I swallow more water. Eventually, I’m just gonna sink to the bottom and welcome the end. But why would I give him that satisfaction? That much credit? I am stronger than he is. I’ve spent my entire life being controlled, so I should be used to it by now.

Only one person has ever made me feel like I have a choice. And I wish he was here right now. I take a step back from the railing and pull out my phone. I dial his number. The moment I hear him answer, a smile spreads across my face, and I start to sing to him.

“Happy birthday to you ...” With every word I say, the smile grows on my face as the fresh breeze blows my hair around.

“Thank you,” he says as I finish the song.

I turn my back to the balcony and lean up against it. “So how is it? Do you feel old yet?” I ask as my brother laughs.

“Not one bit.”

I can see Conner through the glass door, and I narrow my eyes at him as he dresses. He doesn’t even bother to look my way. He never does anymore. “Did you party hard last night in Paris?” I hate that he had to go away for work. I wish I could have seen him today. I miss him so much.

“Something like that,” he answers, laughing.

I clear my throat as it tightens at the sound of him. Hearing his voice is like a weight on my chest. We’ve grown so far apart since he graduated high school. “I tried to call you last night. I know Paris is six hours ahead. I didn’t wanna miss your birthday, but you didn’t answer.” I really just needed to talk to someone once I returned to our hotel room. Ashlyn had text me that she wasn’t gonna meet us out and not to wait up for her. She had found a man. And I saw the proof of that when she stumbled into our hotel room a couple of hours ago. Hungover and looking like she had spent her entire night getting laid. I wish I was that lucky.

“Sorry, I was in the middle of something. But I don’t wanna talk about me. I wanna talk about you. Make it to Panama City yet?” he asks.

I turn back around to face the ocean; it’s much better scenery than Conner. “Yes. We actually arrived yesterday.”

We spend the next few minutes talking about me and our room, but like always, we hang up too soon. I don’t want to keep him because I know he has a busy life. So busy that I haven’t seen him in four years. He’s never home, and I haven’t been there either. And honestly, I think our reasons are more alike than either wants to admit.

I walk back into the room as I place my phone in the pocket of my shorts. Conner yanks the white down comforter back as if he’s looking for something. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he tosses it back and then looks down at the floor. My suitcase sits in the corner with my clothes still neatly folded inside. His stuff, however, is all over the room. “Who was that?” he demands as I walk out of our room and into the living area. We didn’t get the penthouse suite, but we did get an amazing luxury suite with two bedrooms and living area with a small kitchen. The floors are a light brown wood with soft eggshell walls and white trim. The couch is a soft blue color that matches the waves outside our window, and a big anchor hangs on the wall behind it.

“My brother,” I respond flatly, needing a water.

“Why the fuck were you talking to him?” he snaps.

I come to a stop and turn to face him. “I called him because today is his birthday,” I snap back, still mad at him from last night and the fact he doesn’t want me talking to my brother. They’ve never liked one another. They’re both like dogs trying to establish dominance. I think most call it a pissing contest. Ryder doesn’t like him and for good reason—he doesn’t treat me the best. But he hasn’t always been this way. In the beginning, it was great. And then somewhere along the way, things changed. And I felt more comfortable in the relationship than in love with him. We just make it work. Even if we want to kill the other at times.

He opens his mouth to no doubt tell me to fuck off, but a knock comes on the door. “Who is it?” he calls out.

“Room service.”

I frown at the high-pitch voice, and Conner’s eyes narrow at me. “Did you call them?”

“Have you seen me call anyone else?” I ask, placing my hands on my hips. I hate when he asks me stupid questions.

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