Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Simone’s face breaks and she lowers the journal, but Annika protests. “Don’t buy it, Simone! She’s playing on your emotions!”
Simone looks at me in shock, but I just shrug. I have all of Winnie’s stuff at home—boxes and boxes of it. I have a copy of that journal as well. I wasn’t going to take any chances that I’d lose it during my travels.
“Are you and Cristiano old friends or something?” Annika asks, eyeing me with careful attention. “I don’t understand how you seem to know each other.”
“It’s our families that know each other,” I reply tiredly.
Simone’s eyes widen. “How so? How’s that even possible? Aren’t you from California?”
“Yes, but my grandmother grew up in Spain and so did Cristiano’s. They knew each other.” With that, I stand and yank the journal out of Simone’s hand. “That’s the full story. Cristiano thinks it’s his duty to watch out for me since our grandmothers were old friends. I’ve told him not to worry about it, and now… you’re all caught up. I’m going to get ready for work.”
They go quiet behind me and I assume they buy my line that there’s nothing more between me and Cristiano.
So why don’t I buy it?
Chapter Eleven
Isabel
I take extra care in Aura’s locker room for no reason at all except that Cristiano hasn’t been at the club since last weekend and he’ll eventually have to make another appearance. Tonight would be a good night for him to be here. We have another famous DJ playing a set and it’s going to be as crowded as ever.
“Want me to sort your hair out?” Simone asks once she’s finished applying her own makeup. She’s already dressed and done up. Her pixie cut sweetly frames her features. Her eye shadow plays up her round eyes.
I hold up my hands in a plea. “Would you? Do you have time?”
I wasn’t going to ask her because I didn’t want to make her rush.
“Yeah, I’m getting really fast at it. Shouldn’t take me but a minute.”
She watches me sweep on my mascara while she waits for her curling iron to heat up.
“Going all out with the makeup, huh? Trying to impress someone?”
“Simone.”
She smiles to herself and picks up the first section of my hair she’ll curl into soft waves. “I just think you’re not being totally honest about the situation. You haven’t even said whether you fancy him. How could you not?”
I look at my reflection in the mirror, staring at my green eyes set off by my shimmery makeup. Isn’t it obvious?
“Of course I find him attractive.”
“And nice?”
Nice isn’t the first word that comes to mind with Cristiano, but I suppose he has been. “Nice with an edge,” I tell her.
She grins. “The good ones always are.”
No kidding.
“Are you holding out for someone back home? Is that it?”
I laugh at the idea. “God, no. I haven’t dated anyone since… It’s been years.”
“Really?”
I’ve just blown her mind, but it’s surprisingly easy to drift through day-to-day life without going on dates or entertaining romantic fantasies of any kind. For months after Winnie’s death, I was stuck in a fog of grief, unable to do much more than eat, sleep, and work. To a certain extent, I still haven’t breached that fog. If there have been cute men slipping in and out of my life, I haven’t noticed them. It’s like I’ve had blinders up.
A few times, my mom has brought up my dating life, prodding me to put myself out there and download an app or two. Each time, I promised her I’d consider it, but those were outright lies. I know from discussions with my therapist that remaining single is likely a symptom of my survivor’s guilt, a way for me to punish myself for still being alive when Winnie is not. If she can’t experience love, then why should I?
It’s a hard question to reconcile. I’m not purposely trying to martyr myself for Winnie’s sake, but she was such a huge part of my life, the best friend I’ve ever had, and at times it feels impossible to enjoy life without her.
Being here in Spain is the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Giving myself the freedom to be Elle instead of Isabel has made it slightly easier to start living again rather than merely existing. Annika and Simone are largely to thank for that. I reach up to touch Simone’s hand while she holds the curling iron above my head.
Our eyes lock in the mirror and I smile. “Thank you.”
“What? Oh.” She pretends to gag. “Emotions? No. Stop. Let me finish your hair.”
I laugh, and while she works, I put the finishing touches on my makeup before we head out onto the floor. Tonight, Thalia is our shift leader, and as soon as she spots our trio, she informs Annika and me that we’re assigned to the VIP section.