Elena
The next two days I spend exploring around. I grab a taxi to the beach, which I admit is much nicer than the city, though it’s very different from any East Coast beaches. The people, the sand, the wildlife, it all seems too foreign. As much as I try to enjoy it here, I can’t shake this sense of unease, like I don’t belong in this place.
I sit on the beach, a cool breeze blowing in from the ocean, and watch the waves. So… what do I do now?
Three days ago, I literally disappeared on my family, and ran away from Maximo. Sure I can call my sister and tell her I’ve decided to take an impromptu vacation, but what do I do about Maximo? If I go home to Manhattan, he’ll be after me, I’m sure of it. At the same time, I don’t want to stay here. This city and I are not a fit.
It’s a predicament.
With a sigh, I pick up the one book I brought with me on the plane and continue reading. Escapism’s exactly what I need right now, because I don’t have any answers.
The day wears on. I watch the sun set over the water, which is a moment that I do fully enjoy. It reminds me of my time inItaly. More nostalgia threatens to suffocate me, so I find a nice restaurant for dinner. Where I eat alone.
After my meal, I decide I’m not yet ready to call it a night, so I step into a loud, trendy looking bar. The number of people crammed in here is dizzying. I weave my way through the crowd to the bar, where a seat happens to open up, and I take it.
“What can I get you?” one of the bartenders calls.
I have to shout over the music to be heard. “I’ll have a strawberry margarita, please.”
The guy nods, moving effortlessly behind the counter. I usually drink wine, but I’m attempting to let loose a bit tonight. One last stab at getting into the LA vibe before I call it quits.
My drink arrives and I pay for it so that I can duck out of here as soon as I want. As I sip the cold cocktail, I glance around the dimly lit space. Couples and groups grind together on the dance floor, others sit at tables chatting and laughing. All of it makes me feel even more like an outsider. The strangest thing is I can’t even envision myself joining one of these groups.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
I glance at the man who’s claimed the chair next to mine at the bar. He’s looking at me, so I assume he spoke to me too. I offer him a weak smile. I’m not really in the mood to talk with strange men in a bar. Although… Maybe that’s what I need.
“Hi.” My grin widens. He’s handsome enough, so why not chat with him for a bit? No harm in that, right?
He leans forward so I can hear him better. “Are you here with anyone?”
I shake my head.
“Really?” His eyebrows creep toward his blond hairline. “I guess it’s my lucky night.”
I’m not entirely sure what he means by that, so I just smile.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
I hold up my half consumed beverage. “I’ve already got one.”
He calls the bartender over anyway and orders us both another drink. Are all men such bad listeners? I mean why ask if I want a drink if he’s just going to order one anyway? I let it slide, as I’ve never been on a date, so I don’t know how these things work. Maybe an assertive man is supposed to be a good thing.
When our drinks arrive, wecheers, tapping our glasses together, before taking a sip.
The guy leans in to say something, when my phone vibrates with a text. I grab my phone.
Ravenna:
Hey, you’ve been quiet. Are you okay?
“Sorry, I need to take this,” I say to the attractive stranger. “I’ll be right back.”
He smiles and nods. “I’ll keep your seat warm.”
Okay…
I have to leave the bar in order to call my sister. There’s no chance I could hear her at all over all that noise. Yes, I could text her back, but it’s easier to explain it all at once, instead of a back and forth exchange.
