The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories

by Brina Courtney

  “She’s here.” I lifted myself onto my elbows and pouted my lip. “I have to go.”

  “Can she wait five minutes?” he asked.

  “Five minutes?” I laughed. “We’ll finish this when I get back.”

  “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart.” He gave me one last long kiss. I took a moment to stare into his sweet brown eyes, wanting to stay.

  “I’ll miss you,” he said. “Don’t get into any trouble.”

  “I won’t.” I smirked.

  Telly popped the trunk, and Chad placed my bulging suitcase inside.

  “Love you!” I said one last time before getting into the car.

  “Love you too.”

  I opened the passenger door to find Telly dressed in a short, skin tight, black DKNY dress with matching four-inch stilettos and big dark designer sunglasses. Already tall, her heels made her legs go on for miles. She was a stunning Latina goddess with amazing breasts. She was never in short supply of eager men and their compliments.

  Telly was definitely the pretty one, the one who was asked out first at the bar, the one people stared at whenever we went to a party. Though I never begrudged her, I did wish I had been born with some of her physical genes. I was shorter and lacked her curves. We did share similar long locks, as I was fortunate enough to inherit my Chinese-born mother’s thick Asian hair. But it was wavy in all the wrong places, which I got from my American father. Not to say I was unhappy with my appearance, I was perfectly pretty with my big almond-shaped hazel eyes that reflected specs of green, brown, gold, red, and blue. The one unique physical feature I had over Telly.

  We met up with the girls at the terminal bar, and from the looks of it, the bachelorette party had already started. Rachel, the bride-to-be, wore a hot pink sash that read Bachelorette and a plastic tiara with a white tulle veil.

  Rachel was one of those girl next-door types, a schoolteacher in her mid-twenties with a sweet naivety about her. She probably still kept a stuffed teddy on her bed. Beyond her Sandra Dee good-girl image, there was also something elegant and enchanting about her. It was most easily seen in her eyes, big and beautiful with long thick lashes that gave the illusion she had the secret to perfect mascara.

  “Marin, Telly, you’re here!” Rachel hugged us. “I want you to meet my bridesmaids. This is Denise, Jamie, and Sonia.” She pointed to each of the cute twenty-somethings.

  “Hi!” the girls said in unison.

  “Where’s Holly?” I asked Rachel as I looked around for her sister.

  “She went to the bathroom. She’ll be right back.”

  There was still a half-hour before boarding so I asked Telly to order a cocktail for me while I went to find Holly. In the ladies room, I found her leaning against the wall near the sinks reading a newspaper.

  “Hey,” I said, stealing her attention.

  She looked up at me beneath the brim of her khaki cap and smiled. “Marin, how are you?”

  “Good, what are you doing in here reading?”

  “I got caught up in this article, and it’s quieter here.”

  “Are you excited about your sister’s bachelorette party?”

  She scoffed. “Partying in Vegas with a bunch of drunken twenty-six-year-olds? No, I wouldn’t exactly say I’m excited.”

  “Come on, everyone’s waiting for you,” I pulled her in, and we walked out to the terminal.

  Holly was my oldest and dearest friend. I’ll never forget the first day of second grade in Mrs. Smith’s class when a little frizzy-haired girl came up to me at recess and asked if I wanted to help her pick up litter after school. I didn’t know what litter was, but I knew that I liked her right away.

  As we grew into our early thirties her hair became less frizzy, but her passion for the environment increased. She worked for a company called EcoWorld and traveled the globe promoting eco-friendly initiatives.

  We found the girls still sitting by the bar enjoying their cocktails. Telly handed me a Malibu Bay Breeze, a favorite of mine. Rachel’s bridesmaid Sonia gave us a run-down of the weekend’s events and it wasn’t long before we were on our ninety-minute flight to Vegas. The plane was packed and lively, everyone engaged in conversation and seeming to have a good time. When we landed at LAS, the pilot sang to the tune of Barney.

  We love you. You love us.

  We’re much faster than the bus.

  We’ve got style and personality.

  Marry one of us and you’ll fly free.

  Everyone applauded and laughed. True story.

  After baggage claim and a cab ride, we made it to the MGM Grand Hotel. Telly, Holly, and I shared a large suite with a view of the Vegas strip, thanks to Telly’s frequent stays and reward status.

  “I can’t believe my sister’s getting married,” Holly said while she examined her figure in the full-length mirror.

  “You mean getting married before you?” Telly smirked as she carefully put the finishing touches on her mascara. I rolled my eyes and smiled at Telly’s reflection in the bathroom mirror we shared and imagined Holly had done the same.

  “It’s not that, just that she’s so young. She’s my baby sister. She’ll have her own family soon,” Holly said.

  “A family? You mean Rachel’s pregnant?” Telly leaned over the counter to finish her make-up, cleavage spilling from her iridescent gray dress.

  “I didn’t say that!” Holly sounded mad. “All I’m saying is she’s growing up.”

  I moved toward her. “I know what you mean.” Our reflections side by side in the sleek, black-framed wall mirror, my thoughts flashed back to when we were eight, the beginning of our awkward phase right before hitting puberty. We were so young then and Rachel was just a baby. Looking at Holly was the same as when we were kids, even though we’re much older and less awkward.

  “Do you remember when Rachel said her first word?” I asked Holly.

  Her face lit up. “Yeah, we were looking at my mom’s baby magazines when Rachel came over and pointed at the baby.”

  “Then she said, ‘baby’ and you nodded and said, ‘yeah baby.’”

  Holly smiled with a slight laugh. “It took us a minute to realize she said her first word.”

  I put my arm around her. “I guess the baby’s all grown up.”

  “Ugh, you sound like a bunch of old sentimental grandmas.” Telly grimaced. “Can we not talk about Rachel as a baby? She’s a grown woman and tonight she’s a Sin City bachelorette. I don’t want images of her innocence when a hot male stripper grinds on her later.”

  “You ordered a stripper?” Holly sounded appalled to say the least.

  Telly shook her head innocently and shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “We gotta go, guys.” I ushered the girls to the door, while Holly ranted about why strippers are disgusting. After passing the casino downstairs, we made it inside the Tabu Lounge. We were led to a special bachelorette booth adorned with a confetti of martini glasses.

  Rachel raised her glass, compelling our attention. “I want to say something,” she began. “I want to thank you all for coming all the way here to celebrate my last days as a single girl. It means the world to me.” Two of the twenty-somethings ahhed. “There are no other six ladies I would rather be with. I love you guys!” We raised our glasses and leaned in for a toast.

  Telly wrapped her hands around her martini glass, clutching it like a warm cup of coffee, and bouncing in her seat with a grin. “Okay, who’s my crush for the night?” Her eyes wandered around the lounge, scoping out the men like a lioness on the hunt. I’d seen it many times before. She stopped, grinned, and sure enough stunned her first prey. He made his way over to us, which always made me uncomfortable because I knew what would come next. He was attractive, built like a football player. Eligible looking enough except his hair was spiked with a tad too much gel.

  “Hey,” too-much-hair-gel-guy said to Telly, ignoring the rest of us.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

>   Telly curled her lip. “I already have a drink.” He raised his eyebrows in a sigh, almost admitting defeat, but tried again.

  “You wanna dance?”

  “I don’t know.” Telly paused and ran her eyes down his body. “Can you dance?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Telly raised an eyebrow. She walked toward the dance floor, hips moving to the beat with each step. He, of course, followed eagerly.

  It wasn’t long before the seven of us were throwing back cocktails and shakin’ it on the dance floor. Denise created a list of dares for Rachel, like rub a bald guy’s head and ask random guys to take off their shirts for pictures. Rachel exhibited her low tolerance for alcohol as she crossed through each fulfilled dare on the list.

  At one point she looked over at me. “You’re next.” She was right. My wedding was only four months away, and it wouldn’t be long before I was rubbing bald heads and asking for men’s shirts. She was the first of all the girls there to get married and, having known her since her diaper days, I was incredibly happy for her. We were both so lucky to have found great guys who wanted to spend their lives with us as much as we wanted to spend our lives with them.

  The girls spread throughout the lounge, Holly was chatting with the bartender, Telly had moved on to bleached-blonde-surfer-guy, and Rachel was enjoying herself in the crowd on the dance floor. I made my way over. When I reached her, she stumbled and bumped into a dancing couple. I grabbed her to keep her upright.

  “Are you okay?” I shouted over the booming music.

  “Yeah, I think I need some air.” She looked like she was going to be sick. I led her into the hotel corridor.

  “Do you need to go to the ladies room?” I brushed her hair away from her eyes.

  “No, just air.”

  I nodded.

  We walked through the casino and outside to a nearby bench under the walkway escalator. Rachel took deep breaths as I lightly rubbed her back.

  “You okay?” I asked again.

  “I think so. I feel panicky all of the sudden.” She put her hand on her chest, her breathing became shallow.

  I kneeled in front of her and looked onto her face. “Rachel, what’s going on?”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Scared of what?”

  “Getting married. It’s such a huge thing, you know. It’s like . . . forever.”

  “That’s the thing about marriage, honey,” I said with a smile.

  “And I love David, I do. He’s great, but he has a past. And what if he hasn’t grown—”

  “Rachel, listen.”

  She held her breath.

  “The past is the past. David’s a great guy, and he would not have asked you to marry him if he wasn’t ready to make that commitment, okay?”

  “You’re right.” She nodded.

  “It’s normal to get cold feet, and if you’re not ready, then it’s okay. You can postpone the wed—”

  “No!” She jumped to her feet with conviction. “I’m marrying David.”

  “Good,” I said and brushed her cheek. I stood up ready to head back inside when she grabbed my arm. Her concerned expression returned.

  “I have to tell you something.” My heart jumped at the severity of her tone. Maybe she was pregnant.

  “Okay.”

  “This might sound crazy, but a month after we got engaged . . . ”

  “Yes.” I took a deep breath.

  “I lost my engagement ring in a parking lot.” I studied her left hand, which glistened with two carats worth of shiny diamonds. I held it up.

  “I don’t follow,” I said.

  “I got the ring back, thank God, but I didn’t tell anyone because of the superstition, you know?”

  I shrugged. The only ring superstition I knew about involved wearing a used ring from a broken engagement.

  “Lose your ring, lose your spouse,” she said as if it was as common as step on a crack and break your mother’s back. “That’s crazy, right?” She bit her lip. It did sound crazy, but as a therapist I did not encourage such terms.

  “Of course not, but your ring isn’t lost. You got it back. I would call it no harm, no foul.”

  “You’re right. I’m getting married, and it’s going to be great.”

  “It’s going to be great.” I nodded and smiled. “Let’s go back inside.”

  The next day at the casino we handed chips to the black jack dealers and spent the evening mesmerized by the latest performance of Cirque du Soleil. By Sunday morning we were in need of some R&R. Telly, Holly, and I spent our time at the pool, soaking in the sun and cooling off in the water. Rachel and her friends opted for massages and facials at the spa.

  After an hour of sunning and reading a few articles in Psychology Today, I put my head back and closed my eyes. The sun felt good on my face, and I thought about all the fun I had the past couple of days. Then, I thought about Chad and how much fun I would’ve had if I’d been home helping him move into my apartment, our apartment. I missed him.

  “Hey, guys?” I said turning to the girls who were resting on their lounge chairs next to mine. Their heads turned in unison. “I think I’m gonna fly home tonight and surprise Chad.”

  “You’re leaving?” Telly asked.

  “Yeah, I really miss him. He’s been working a lot, and I haven’t seen him much lately. Do you think Rachel will be upset?”

  “No,” Holly said. “She’ll understand. I’m sure she’s itching to get back to David too.”

  Before leaving for the airport, I found Rachel at the salon and said good-bye. She thanked me for coming and for our little pep talk the first night.

  The flight was as quick as the one before, but it felt longer still. I was antsy to surprise Chad and finish what we started a few days ago. By the time I got to our apartment, I was almost giddy at the idea of surprising him. The doorknob turned easily as I carefully opened the door and dragged my suitcase behind me. The space was dark except for a hint of light spilling out from the bedroom.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Catch

  I shut the door without a sound and tiptoed through the living room and down the hall. I stopped short of the bedroom and just stood in the doorway.

  A naked woman wrapped up in my once pristine white Egyptian cotton sheets laid alone in my bed. My mind didn’t register anything about her other than that she had no business being there.

  “Who the hell are you?” I yelled. Before she could answer, Chad came out of the hall bathroom wearing nothing but his boxer briefs.

  Heart pounding, hands shaking, a stabbing pain of betrayal warmed my face. How could this be? My perfect fiancé was having an affair, in our apartment, in our bed. I fought to hold back the tears.

  “Marin.” He started as if to explain.

  I held up my hand. It was my turn to speak, though I didn’t know where to start. He was having an affair. How could he do this to me? We’re getting married. What a lying, cheating, son-of-a-bitch.

  There were no words. I heaved and covered my mouth. “I’m going to be sick,” I said, heaving again. I pushed Chad out of the way and locked myself in the bathroom. My complimentary Southwest cocktails spewed out of me as I hovered over the toilet and my tears spilled out like an opened floodgate.

  Chad banged against the door. “Marin, let me in!”

  “Go away!” I shouted.

  “Let me explain,” he said, still banging against the door.

  “I don’t want to talk to you. Just go! Take that whore with you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until you open this door and let me talk to you.” I broke from my tears long enough to tell him I would call the cops if he didn’t leave.

  “They won’t do anything, Marin. I live here, remember?”

  “Not anymore. Now get the hell out.” I sobbed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a lower, defeated tone. I remained silent, sitting on the floor with my head against the wall. Waiting. A minute later, the front door
closed and he was gone. The sorrow was so overwhelming that I breathed in and tried to cry out, but the cry stuck in my throat until it released a second later. Hours later and still lying on my bathroom rug surrounded by balled up tissues, my eyes were parched. I felt numb, thoughtless, speechless, and even breathless. At some point during my dismal daze, I fell asleep.

  I was disoriented the next morning until the base of my toilet came into view. The whole thing came back to me like a bad dream. Except it wasn’t a dream. Chad, my fiancé, was having an affair. The man I had spent two years with had betrayed me in the worst way.

  I splashed cold water on my face, then left my grief chamber to investigate the empty apartment. There was nothing but silence. My memory flashed back as I entered my bedroom and stared at my bed. An unsettling urge to scratch my skin off came over me as my new reality crawled under it. I shifted that urge to the bed, clawing the white sheets soiled by infidelity. Minutes later they tumbled down the garbage shoot. When I returned to the room, my running shoes appeared in my peripheral vision. I knew exactly what was needed: a good run.

  There was something peaceful about the sound of my feet against the pavement and the steadiness of my breath. Running allowed me to clear my head, gain perspective. It was my version of therapy, helping me through grad school, tension with my family, and the pressure of being single in my late twenties. I hoped it would get me through the trauma with Chad.

  One question hounded me. What should I do now? In my professional experience, many couples combat infidelity with success. I always encouraged people to work it out if they could. Now that it had happened to me, I didn’t feel so willing. For starters, Chad and I were not married, and in that moment I was thankful for that. If I wanted to get out of my relationship, I could easily do so. The truth remained that I loved him, but was love enough? I wouldn’t have agreed to marry him in the first place if I hadn’t thought we could face the hard stuff. My rose colored view of love never imagined infidelity plaguing our relationship.

  How could I ever trust him again? Cheating can make people crazy with jealousy and suspicion, and I didn’t want to be the kind of person who second-guessed him all the time. Plus, I didn’t know the nature of his affair. Was it a one-time thing or a long-standing relationship? Would it matter either way? The whole thing made me sick.