We were exiting the Arrivals gate, luggage in tow, figuring out the next step of our journey. I shielded my eyes from the sun and scanned the group of people boarding both buses when I spotted the pink Polo shirt.
You're losing your chance!
"That one," I answered, pointing to Bus 1. The guy I had bumped into aboard the plane had his back turned to us, in line for Bus 2, and I was avoiding him at all costs.
The ride to the hotel was bumpy, but the friendly bus driver and the beautiful scenery more than made up for it.
Buzzzz. My cell phone vibrated as I rummaged through my purse to find it. One new message.
'Hey Gorgeous, hope you landed safely. Call me when you're settled in. X'
A smile crept over my face as I read the text from my boyfriend, Rob. We were high school sweethearts, having been together since he and I were 15 and 14, respectively. He was the kindest soul I had ever met, and he wasn't hard on the eyes, either. Rob was tall, medium-built, with sandy brown hair and blue eyes so clear they almost glowed. He had a dimple in his right cheek and a smile that could melt your heart. My parents adored him, my brother idolized him and my friends couldn't love him more if they tried. In short, he was perfect. Almost.
The one thing - and probably the only thing - that bugged me about Rob was that he was less than ambitious. His education - or lack thereof - and current employment situation was a reflection of that; when Rob had turned 19, he accepted a job at the local casino that paid twice the minimum wage for less than full-time hours. At the time, it was a sweet deal. Four years later, Rob is still hanging onto that job. Sure, he had job security and he was getting by on the pay, but that meant Rob had no intention of striving to do something more meaningful with his life. He was happy where he was, satisfied with what the Casino - and the city of Brantford - had to offer. I, on the other hand, dreamt of jet-setting around the world, driving fancy cars, owning a mansion in Bel-Air and earning more money than I could ever spend. Superficial, maybe, but that was the difference between Rob and I.
"Dude, why are you still staring at your phone?" Lara nudged me with her elbow, breaking my thoughts.
"Haha, sorry, text from Rob."
"Awww, how is Prince Charming? Miss you already?" Her face had that 'oh-he's-so-dreamy' look across it as she spoke.
"Nah," I laughed. "Just wanted to make sure we got in ok."
Daisy checked her cellphone and pouted. "No message from Jake."
"Good God, need I remind you that we're here for eye-candy and tequila?!" Heather sighed, re-applying lip gloss to her pouty pink lips. "No more boyfriend talk for the rest of the trip, please!"
Daisy and I exchanged knowing glances - Heather was in the mood to party, and she was taking all of us down with her.
Heather was the fiery one - confident, witty, and fiercely protective of her loved ones. She didn't take anyone's bullshit, and if you were close to her, you didn't have to take anyone's bullshit, either. People often mistook her attitude for bitchiness, but she was really just a hard shell with a super soft interior. She grew up with 4 older brothers and without a mother - she had passed away shortly after Heather was born - and was often left to take care of the house, cooking and cleaning up after them. Her father worked 2 full-time jobs for as long as I could remember - day and night shifts - just to keep a roof over his children's heads. Her brothers had taught her how to fight, play sports, and to treat men as if every one of them was expendable; this was their way of saving their little sister from inevitable heartbreak. Not that they had much to worry about; most guys were afraid of Heather - not only did she have 4 older brothers, but she stood 5 feet, 10 inches tall all on her own; had a solid, curvy frame; and short, platinum blonde hair that was often tucked under a sweaty baseball cap.
Daisy was the soft-spoken, quiet one. She came from a well-to-do family; her father was co-owner of 3 gas stations and her mother was a nurse at the local hospital. She had a younger sister (also named after a flower), a boyfriend who adored her, and a 2-year old Jack Russell Terrier that hated my own 2-year old Shih-Poo. Daisy was a devout Christian, a member of the Church choir, and sweeter than sugar. Though I couldn't say the same for myself, she and I looked very much alike on the outside - with our long, chocolate brown hair, olive skin, dark eyes and petite bone structure; we were often mistaken for sisters.
"How far is this effing resort? Shouldn't we be there by now?" Lara whined, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
Lara, the raven-haired beauty, was often the hardest to please. She came from a modest, mixed family - her mother was Chinese and her father, Irish - but both parents relished in spoiling their only child. Her fair skin was a stark contrast to the rest of her features - the dark hair, the dark, slanted eyes - and her personality was just the same. Underneath that innocent, angelic exterior was a hot-blooded diva with a penchant for hard liquor and rich men.
Just then, the bus pulled up to our palacial resort, and all complaints stopped.
"Here we go, ladies!" Heather grinned, jumping from her seat and heading for the front of the bus.
I put away my phone and dutifully followed.
***
The four of us settled into our room, taking turns showering and changing into more beach-appropriate attire. I was the last to get ready, as I had taken a short nap after our arrival to shake off the dizziness from our flight.
"You coming?"
"I'll meet you guys at the bar," I replied, as Lara, Heather and Daisy stood by the door. "I need a few more minutes."
The girls agreed and left me to it. I struggled to tease the hair at the crown of my head, my locks lying greasily and flat against my scalp. Of course my hair wasn't going to co-operate - it never did when I needed to impress. Wait - what? I have no one to impress, I thought to myself, grabbing a wide brimmed hat off the bed post. I'm in a loving, committed relationship and don't need attention from anyone else.
I took one last glance in the mirror - red bikini, off-the-shoulder t-shirt long enough to cover my "assets", white flip flops to match my hat, wavy hair partially hidden by said hat... I was finally beach-ready.
It was gorgeous outside - clear blue sky, temperature in the high 30s, the slightest of breezes coming in from the water... oops, my hat! Just as I turned to chase it down, someone caught it for me.
"It's a good thing I was here," he said with a smile.
My breath caught in my throat. There, in front of me, stood 6 feet of utter deliciousness.
"I believe this belongs to you," he added slowly, handing over my hat.
"Th...thanks," I stammered, quickly replacing it on my head. 'OMG! Sidney Crosby!!!' my brain screamed.
"You look familiar. Did you fly in today, too?"
Oh God, please no... don't let him be the guy from the plane!
I shook my head.
"Oh..." he frowned, trying to recall where he'd seen me if it wasn't on the plane.
Say something you idiot! But I was too star-struck to listen. Sidney Crosby, the NHL's greatest player and the man of my wildest dreams, was striking conversation with me and all I could do was stare back at him hopelessly.
"Ok, well, I better get back to my friends," he said, stepping around me to head to the bar.
You're losing your chance!
"Wait!" I called out, just a little too loudly.
Sidney stopped in his tracks. "You ok?" he asked, bewildered by the urgency in my voice.
Should I tell him he was the love of my life? No, I had weirded him out already. Plus, I'd heard once that Sidney shied away from lovestruck fans. Better to pretend I knew nothing at all.
"Vanessa," was all I finally managed to get out.
"Sidney," he replied, shaking my outstretched hand. God, he was strong.
I smiled, about to open my mouth to speak again when a stout, blonde friend of his appeared on the stone path, motioning for Sid to hurry up and follow him.
"Sorry, I gotta go... it was nice meeting you though," Sid said, tipping the beak of his cap toward me.
"See you around!" I called after him.
He turned his head back to look at me, his beautiful, bee-stung lips curled into a smile. "You betcha'," he said with a wink.
No comments:
Post a Comment