Page 50 of The Other Side of Paradise (Story of Paradise #2)

“It was as shitty as I’d expected,” I said, not really with it, shrugging absently.

“She laughed and told me her girlfriend wouldn’t be interested in me.

Kept sending me harassing messages for hours after I’d tried to end the conversation with, you know, sure, do what you like, I just wanted to let you know, but she was still going, all…

what are you after, why are you trying to sabotage our relationship, are you trying to get us to break up, are you trying to sleep with her, are you trying to sleep with me. And a lot of insults.”

She pursed her lips, clenching her hands tighter. “Christ, what an asshole.”

Ha. I did like the idea of sitting out here and shit-talking the person who didn’t like me, but that was probably bad karma or something dumb like that.

“It’s a normal psychological response, isn’t it?

” I said. “She has to either figure out a way that I’m a lying dirtbag with an agenda, or reconcile the idea that her picture-perfect relationship with her hot girlfriend is broken.

Of course it’s easier to revert defensively to the former. ”

“I guess. Still a jackass.”

I could take some bad karma. I felt a small smile bubble up. “I mean, didn’t say she wasn’t.”

“Okay, I’m glad we’re on the same page.” She stood up, fetching the pizzas from the oven, and she relaxed this time when she sat down, sizzling pizzas cooling on the table between us, smelling like heaven.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this from me,” she said, her voice soft, “but hey, I’m damn proud of you.

Just… takes a lot of guts, facing that kind of thing. ”

I was too sad right now to feel squicked out by that kinda thing. “Thanks…” I mumbled, looking down.

“How are you feeling?” She grimaced, realizing how the question came across. “About that whole thing specifically.”

How was I feeling? I kind of surprised myself with the answer. “Honestly?” I said with a sigh, relaxing into the couch. “Completely fine. A lot better. Now I know they’re both just a couple of douchebags, and I’m not the bad guy here.”

She smiled at me, her eyes soft. I looked away, a little laugh breaking out.

“And there’s this one… tiny… vindictive little part of me that looks at all their pretty photos and happy relationship posts, and I look at the blonde bombshell there who sent me the most vile messages, and I’m like… ha. I fucked your girlfriend. So who’s winning now?”

She laughed, a cautious gleam in her eyes. “You do what you’ve gotta do to survive these situations…”

“Hopefully fucking other people’s girlfriends isn’t something I gotta do in the future,” I said, the playful tone in my voice dying off.

“It sucks. Everything sucks. I just… wanted to… be better,” I mumbled, looking up at her with this ache in my chest feeling like it would make me explode.

“Do you feel that way too…?” I said, voice quiet.

She looked away, and I felt stupid for asking even before she said, “Not really.”

“Oh… maybe it’s just me.” I picked up my drink off the table, clutching it hard, staring into the darkening sky, trying to pin down this nervous thing in my chest. “I just… god, Stella is… she’s so far out of my fucking league,” I said, my voice like a prayer.

“I feel like I had some kind of encounter with divinity. I’m so fucking sad she left, but…

I’m just really grateful I got to spend time with her.

And I guess maybe there’s this part of me that’s like…

if she saw something in me, maybe I’m not the worst in the world.

Or maybe I at least have the potential to be something worthwhile. ”

She smiled thinly at me. “Love comes in a lot of ways, takes a lot of forms, and a lot of the time, it hurts. A lot. But I’ve never heard someone regret loving somebody.”

I snorted. “Is this because I’m a lesbian, you think I’m in love with her after we were together for a couple days?”

She shrugged, looking past me. I didn’t think she was thinking of Stella right now.

“I don’t think you’re in love with her, but I think you felt things that are in the same category as love, don’t you?

You loved things about her. You loved the time you spent with her.

Don’t waste your feelings away by sitting around overanalyzing them. ”

I nodded, taking a long sip of my drink before I ventured, “Are you… are you doing okay?”

“I’m all right… I’ll be all right.”

“You really didn’t want to… I don’t know. Ask her to come back?” I wasn’t asking for her right now, I was vaguely aware. She snorted.

“Forget it, Allison. It’s done now.”

I knew that. I knew that. I just didn’t want to know that. It hurt so fucking much. Why? When I’d only known her for a week? “She’s different from the others, isn’t she?” I said, voice hoarse “She really meant something to you.”

She shrugged flippantly. “I’ve got a big heart. Lots of people mean something to me.”

“Don’t give me—”

“Even Laura means something to me. That’s saying something.”

God, I’d never seen BB like this. She really did get crushed. “You’re even worse than I am when you’ve gotten your heart broken,” I said, and she whirled on me.

“Allison, what am I supposed to do? If I’d asked her to make something more serious out of this, then either she’d say no and I’d feel like crap, or she’d say yes and mess with her already fragile life situation trying to make this work with me, and then I’d feel even worse, screwing with her life like that. ”

Jesus, I knew that, but I didn’t need it shoved into my face like this, not when… “You know—”

“No, I don’t know,” she said, standing. “I don’t know anything.

But that’s how it goes. It sucks when someone leaves.

It sucks when everyone leaves. But you get used to it.

You get used to the fact that you don’t get used to it—used to the fact that it’s going to hurt every time, and you’re going to be broken for a few days after.

And yeah, this is worse than usual. Might be a whole week.

But life’s made up of a whole lot of weeks.

It’ll go on. I’ll get better. And I’ll find someone else to pass a week with, and then I’ll be a little sad about them leaving, and then I’ll get better.

Nobody’s got a perfect life happy all the time.

Trying to pretend like you do is how you end up like that asshole Isabel harassing someone who lets you know your girlfriend was unfaithful.

I’m going to be miserable sometimes. It doesn’t mean I’m doing something wrong. ”

God, this… this poor woman. Had she always been trying to convince herself of this? Had she always been this empty, and it just took Ryan to force her open and make her see it?

She wasn’t that different from me, I guess. We both… both fucked things up, a lot. Both too scared to let ourselves care too much. Both just… wishing we found something we could really dedicate ourselves to.

Both hurt.

I’d wanted to be more like Brooklyn. Here I was.

She let out a quiet shit under her breath, dropping back into her seat. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she said, the air between us suddenly tense, quiet, nervous. “I didn’t mean to go off on you. I appreciate you coming around and checking in. I’m just a little bit of a mess at the moment.”

That was an understatement. But so was I. I laughed through the lump in my throat. “Okay, well, verdict is, I don’t think I like hookups.”

“Fair enough,” she said with a sad smile.

“I’m not sad I did it, though…” I said, shifting in my seat. “Thanks. For the push, and everything.”

“You’re a better person than I am, Allison. Glad I get to at least make you pizzas. Now eat up. It’s getting cold.”

“It was just in a trillion-degree oven. It’s not getting cold that fast.”

But I took some of the pizza, and I took a bite, where it was still plenty warm. We both picked at the pizzas for a minute before, quietly, Brooklyn said, “I’m glad she’s a writer.”

I looked at her. “Ryan?”

“Yeah. I subscribed to her newsletter,” she laughed. “Under a different email that doesn’t have my name in it… just in case. I’ll get to read her writing, and it’ll be like I’m hearing her voice again. So I’m going to be very well-informed.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Christ, you’re down bad.”

“Christ, I really am.”

I shook my head, smiling to myself. “Stella’s studying graphic design, so I, uh, I followed her Instagram. She posts a lot of her work there. She’s really good.”

“You’re just as down bad…” she said lightly, and I pouted at her.

“At least I used my actual name.”

“Okay, you win just this once. It’s still close, though.”

“I’ll give you that.” I sank back in the seat, swirling my drink, staring up at the slow-moving clouds, trying to work out what to say.

I’d gone into this thinking I could admit to this thing about I wish I could send her those paintings, but I, uh, didn’t want to admit to the paintings.

Nor to what they’d entailed. “I… kept telling her we should go do painting or something together, but we never actually got a chance to do it…” I said.

“Now I feel sad I didn’t get to put my studies to good use trying to impress a hot girl. ”

It was more true than I’d realized—wishing I could have taken her to one of the workshops, to coach her in painting, or to attend one together. Wishing we could have done everything on the island together. Just one day to the next, figuring out what we wanted to do with our time.

Brooklyn smiled at me. “Do some paintings and post them on your Instagram. She did follow you back, right?”

Jesus, I couldn’t imagine the reaction if I’d posted the paintings publicly on my Instagram. Two of them would be fine. One… wouldn’t. Stella would probably support it, though. “I am not becoming an art influencer just to get her attention. I’d be just as bad as you then.”

“ Just as bad, you’d be ten times worse. I could see you doing it, though.”

I pouted. “Ten times is a lot. Have you seen how bad you are? Maybe just like… three times worse.”

“Five times.”

“Five.” I looked away. “I almost wish we hadn’t added each other… a clean break would have been easier.”

“Says the one chiding me for having a clean break,” she said idly, and something snapped in me, and I whirled on her, my heart pounding all of a sudden.

“I said I almost wish it. Ugh. What’s the sense in life if you’re not going to spend it looking for something good?

” I pointed at her, gesturing with each word, and Brooklyn flinched.

Hell, I surprised myself. “If you’re just cutting out everything that makes you happy because one day you might not have it?

When everything we have in life, everything that’s good and everything that’s bad, all of it is temporary anyway?

There’s no difference between hiding from everything you want and just lying down to die.

Jesus, why were any of us born if not to go and look for those things that make life good?

What’s the point of carrying on each day just wincing that the next one might hurt?

” I slumped, my voice falling off at the end, looking down.

I wasn’t talking to her, was I? I was talking to a different girl here, one who wasn’t listening.

“What a stupid-ass fucking mindset,” I muttered.

She was quiet, just sat in the silence between us as the words hung heavy in the air, looking at the torch lights crackling, the glow that still came from the pizza oven. After a long silence, Brooklyn said, “You’re going to start posting your paintings, aren’t you?”

“Ugh.” The one of Stella masturbating on my couch? Not happening. But a million others in hopes Stella might look? In hopes she might see them and think of me? “Yeah.”

“You are good at it. I’m sure she’ll notice. Maybe she’ll say damn, what a cool painting, let’s have video sex. ”

“You’re so annoying.” Well… that was kind of what already happened, just without the video part. I got shivers. “That’d be nice. I, uh, I don’t think it’d happen, though.”

“A girl can dream,” she said with a dry laugh, looking up to the sky.

I’d been doing the same—watching for planes.

I refused to let myself look at the flight tracker, trying not to be so…

attached. But that just meant they occupied more of my mind, constantly wondering if Stella was still on the island at this moment or if she was in the air.

“A girl can… hopelessly daydream,” I muttered.

“You like a little romance. Nothing more romantic than a hopeless daydream.”

“Who are you to talk about romance?”

Brooklyn closed her eyes with a long sigh. “Shit, I shouldn’t have just let her go like that.”

“Yeah, this is what I’ve been telling you.”

“Should have… at least asked. Would have been better to get brushed off and lose it knowing I’d at least tried.”

“Yeah…” Maybe I should have asked, too. Just… never felt like I’d had the right.

Maybe I never would.