Page 42 of Dirty Daria
“I was fine where I was.” I glare at him.
“I wanted to talk to you, and I didn’t want to yell.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.” I pull my ear buds out and turn my music off. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Us.”
“No.”
I move to put the earbuds back in, but he grabs my hand to stop me. “Please. Just for a minute. Let me say what I need to say, and then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the flight.”
“One minute.”
“Maybe a little bit longer.” He smiles.
“I’ll give you three,” I say looking at my wrist, even though I don’t wear a watch.
He takes a deep breath and let’s it out slowly. “I spend a lot of time alone. Well, with jackass back there”—he points to Reed—“and alone.”
“It gives me time to think, D. About life and what I’m looking for, what makes me feel happy and complete, how I want to spend my time and who I want to spend it with. I mean, that’s what it’s all about, right? Figuring out yourself well enough to know what it takes to supplement and complete you? I know that you and I are in an impossible situation. You consider yourself career suicide for me, and, fuck, maybe that’s true. What do I know? But, babe, I’ve not been able to look at another woman since I met you. Not fuck, not date, not look. And I’ve tried, believe me. I can’t do it. I’m not over you, I’ll never be over you. You’re it for me, whether we’re together or not. That much I know, Dar.”
I open my mouth, not knowing what I think or even what I’m going to say. But he covers my lips with his index finger.
“Don’t talk. You’re always talking about why this won’t work. Take some time to think. Really think. And in a few days, maybe we’ll revisit this.” He leans over and kisses me on the forehead; long and soft as he breathes me in. Then he takes his own ear buds and pops them in, starts something on his phone, and without another word stands and disappears to the back of the plane to sit with Reed, leaving me there with nothing more to do than think.
About us.
About him.
About life.
Fuck.
21
Quinn
“Ohmigod, Daria! This is amazing!” I spin through the room like I’m a prima ballerina taking the stage, it’sthatfancy. “Times like this, I’m so happy you’re rich.” We are in one of those bungalows that are built up over the water, the kind that you see in travel magazines and figure aren’t real because they are so picturesque, they can’t possibly be. And you wonder what kind of person you have to be in order to stay in one.
It’s made of light woods with tall vaulted ceilings, and huge water facing windows. A small hallway branches to the left to the kitchenette and to the right to the small bathroom. Straight ahead is the front deck with all sorts of cushy seating, a fire pit, ceiling fans, table and chairs, and an infinity pool. Steps from the deck on either side of the pool lead down into the water, and beyond the pool, set over the water, are hammocks that you can lie in with optional shade covers.
The bedroom opens to the deck as well and includes a view of turquoise water as far as the eye can see. The bathroom is open on one side with a huge outdoor shower and a big soaking tub, a view of the water, and a wall with twin vanities. The bathroom is bigger than my entire apartment back home.
“I can’t believe there are places this fancy,” I say flopping down on the oversized bed.
“I’m pretty sure this is a fairlynormalroom here, the resort is five stars,” she says, smiling.
I get up and head out to the deck with her to look at the water. A large part of the deck flooring is made of glass so we can see down into the water. “Do you think there are sharks here?”
“Aren’t there sharks everywhere?”
“I don’t know. Is the water warm or cold?”
“Stick your foot in and find out.”
“What if a shark bites it off?”
“I don’t think a shark is going to bite off your foot just because you stick it in the water to feel the temperature?”
