Ari

Road trips were simply amazing. They were amazing because they allowed a person to sit and reflect, while viewing the wonders of Mother Nature all around. Road trips allowed you to connect with the people you traveled with, sharing stories, and singing along to the radio.

Road trips weren't amazing when you were hungover and pulling massive third wheel duty, while two totally in love people threw googly eyes at each other, squeezing each other's hands, and making lovey dovey inside jokes. 

I pressed my face up against the window in the back, the cool nature of the window caressed my tired and massively uncomfortable cheeks. My glasses were pressed up on my face in a really uncomfortable and weird position, and I looked as if I was straight out of that one scene in that Cameron Diaz movie Bad Teacher, where she tried to sleep off a hangover behind her desk, glasses askew. 

Someone kill me now or pull over to let me unload everything I had eaten in the last day.

The whole lovey dovey action in the front seat only made the nausea worse. Don't get me wrong, it was amazing that my best friend in the whole world had reconnected with the love of her life. I was happy that Patrick was here with us, taking time off his busy schedule to actually have a little bit of fun for once. He was different since he arrived from L.A., there was a calm and fun loving nature in his eyes that I hadn't seen since college. 

The real world post graduation, hit Patrick hard and in an attempt to grow up, he assumed the role of wise, stern dad, more than the fun loving and creative Patrick who stole Venise's heart and her locker key her Freshman Year, so he could secretly place a white rose in it each day for weeks. 

The only thing I could stomach right now, as the car bounced a tad on the long highway headed to Miami, was old memories. The thought of thinking about what awaited me in Miami, only made my desire to void my stomach even greater. New Orleans had been amazing and I felt like I had started to really like myself, enough so, that I could enter a new phase of my life where I actually loved and cared for who I was. 

I had made a friend for life, someone who when I said my hungover goodbyes while hugging, I had totally ugly cried. Sassy was headed back home to Dallas for some charity event that her dad was putting on. In between the hugs, were promises of meeting up either in Miami or the following destination. 

I made it a point to try and avoid Ace and any lengthy goodbye, at any cost. Last night, he made a declaration that he wasn't done fighting, for me nonetheless. For me, could you believe that? I wasn't anything special. I wasn't rich. I wasn't a Dallas debutant who made a life of pageants and posing with sick kids at the local children's hospital. I wasn't the girl who was from a distinguished family that celebrated vacations in the Caymans or Hamptons. I was the ordinary girl who didn't know if I could live a life that revolved and was controlled by money. 

Ace was everything that any girl could want, but with that came a lot of expectations tied to his money. While Dean came from money, he was modest with the way he lived, the only exception was his addiction to designer suits and electronic equipment. 

Dean was the guy who preferred feeding the ducks at the park over charity events.

He was the guy who went grocery shopping for the elderly couple downstairs on Wednesdays after work.

He was the guy, that knew I was uncomfortable with flashy restaurants, so he chose hole in the wall pizza joints and taco trucks, over 5-star French cuisine.

He was also the guy who never said out loud that he wanted to fight for me and only me. 

When we reached Mississippi, I was so over the whole we could make babies in this front seat thing, that I had been watching for the last several hours, that I requested we stop and actually try to eat. Of course Venise picked some roadside dinner looking place, with an outdoor picnic bench and ordering window. That signaled two things: greasy food and impending sickness to follow. I was about to complain about the choice in post hangover food, until I saw the words World's Best Curley Fries in bold print across their outside menu. 

Now, I was well aware from my days majoring in Marketing while in college, that anytime something claimed to be 'World's Best' it was simply puffery, which was an attempt to exaggerate. But, since I was the World's Best Aficionado of all things curly and fries, I bought into the hype. Just slap a side of mustard onto it and I was content beyond all else. So, I bit the bullet and ordered before sitting down at the hot picnic bench in front of my two companions, who were more concerned with checking the inside of each other's cheeks with their tongues, than eating.

As I sat and pushed around the fries in front of me, which I might add were not the world's best, a title which in my eyes Arby's currently held, I stared off into the distance.

A little girl caught my eye and I found myself staring at her while I picked at my food. She was maybe around five years old and looked absolutely adorable in her pink polka dot summer dress and pink jelly sandals. 

She was carrying a pillow pet in the shape of Sully from Monster's Inc., under her right arm as she held her dad's hand with her left. Her large beautiful brown eyes were wide and soft, and I thought to myself that someday she would make many boys melt when she looked at them in the halls of school. Where her beautiful hair should have been, she wore a stylish pink head scarf that tied in the back with a big bow. I remembered wearing those exact head scarves after my own rounds of chemo.

As they passed us, I heard her say to her dad, "Daddy, when we get ta Disney can I hug Pluto?"

Her dad reassured her that she would have the chance to hug any character she desired, because if it was in his power, he was going to make it happen, just for her. In an instant, I wished that my life was that simple. I wished that it was as simple as, in despite of being sick and death looming behind any corner, the only thing that I cared about was whether or not I would be able to wrap my arms around something I loved. The little girl had a strength and a set of priorities that while simple, were complex. She knew exactly what she wanted.

"Ari, are you ready to go?"

"Ari."

"Earth to Ars!" The tone of her voice snapped me out of my daydream and my face shot in her direction. "Are you ready to hit the road so we can try and get there before tomorrow?" Venise looked at me, while she held her soda cup in one hand and turned towards the trash can. 

"Yeah, sorry, I guess I'm done." I grabbed up my cup and what remained of my greasy spoon curly fries and tossed them in the trash. 

When we got back in the truck, I couldn't help but think about how incomplete the last week or so had been without him here. Romance aside, he completed me in a way in which only a true friend could. He was one of only two people on this earth that I told all my secrets to, well except the one where I'd been in love with him since meeting him.

Being without him felt like I was lost at sea on a raft, with only a volleyball with a bloody handprint to keep me company. Regardless of what would happen once I got to Miami, I missed my friend. I missed him terribly.

..................................

What was originally supposed to be a simple shot down a highway for thirteen hours, turned into an almost two day, stop at every road stand and weird roadside attraction we could find. We detoured the long way, avoiding Orlando, because let's face it, had we gone through there we would have never gotten to Miami. If I was anything, I was a lover of all things Disney and Universal. 

For my birthday three years ago, Dean started buying us season passes each year to go both places where we lived. The first ride we always went on was the Mad Hatter's Tea Cups— always picking the yellow teacup, and with his massive arms he would spin the wheel as fast as he could in an attempt to try and make me dizzy. It felt like being a kid again, sitting in your dad's office chair, spinning in circles until your eyes couldn't focus. Once you stood up you either thanked the heavens that you only stumbled or laughed yourself silly, because you had face planted onto the floor.  

I was a face planter.

We would stay at Disney for hours, never leaving before 12AM on most occasions. I loved the fireworks above Cinderella's castle and we would sit on the curb and drink our frozen lemonades and eat our churros. 

Sometimes, Dean would throw his arm around me as we sat, trying to keep me warm in the wintery months. I would look over at him in his goofy Star Wars mouse ears hat, which I made him wear, no matter how hard he objected that it just wasn't something manly men did. Deep down, I wanted to pretend that we were that perfect L.A. couple that went to Disneyland on Saturdays, wearing mouse ears and matching t-shirts.

We always did goofy stuff like that when we went to the theme parks. It was kind of like an unspoken agreement in our friendship that he would always be the noncriminal Clyde to my sometimes shy Bonnie, the dashing Hans to my Leia, the Stitch to my Lilo. He was the perfect partner to any criminal venture I thought up, even if it was something serious, like covertly hiding behind light poles stalking our favorite cosplay characters at Comic Con, while snapping picture of ourselves posing with them without them knowing. 

He was the guy who always knew how to brighten my day when we ventured out for fun.

He was the guy who helped me chose my wand at Ollivander's and then scolded me for being sorted into my house like the Slytherin that I was, while he flashed his cheeky Gryffindor smile. He was also the only guy I ever drank butterbeer with and the only guy who got my Mulan references, when I would break out in song after someone said that we should get down to business. 

I guess looking back, I never realized that he did things like that for me, maybe because he had felt something all along for me. Maybe he wasn't pretending that we were that perfectly happy Disney couple sharing a lemonade and a smile in each other's directions as the parade commenced. Maybe we were already a somewhat happy couple, we just didn't know it quite yet. Had I been that blind to never see it or had I taken it for granted, just like I did everything else? 

..............................

Finally, after the loads of sexual innuendos that were spilling from the front seat of the truck, we arrived in Miami. I felt my stomach clinch up, because sooner or later I would see his face again. Then again, a part of me worried that maybe that feeling in the pit of my stomach which oddly mimicked the feeling you got when something bad was about to happen, could be signaling that maybe he had left Miami before we got there. Maybe he wouldn't be in this city and it would feel like New Orleans all over again. 

We valeted the truck at the hotel, while the concierge retrieved our stuff and slated it for our different rooms. The lobby looked like it was straight out of a scene from Cassablanca, with its dark luxurious floors, which sparkled under the lighting and intricately placed palm ferns, which were lit up by floor lights. 

The browns and creams only added to the luxurious mood that this place portrayed. I imagined celebrities with their designer children clad in Christian Dior walking the floors of this lobby, eager to finish with their assistants, before heading down the the beach access in order to drink cosmopolitans while sunbathing on private loungers under large umbrellas. 

We headed towards our private ocean suites, mine was situated next to Venise's. Immediately upon entering, it was like I had left America and entered the Orient. The Asian-inspired decor of the suite only added to the calmness that this space offered me. The view of the ocean was breathtaking and for a moment, I wished that the world would end and that this would be the last thing my eyes would see. 

I tipped my guy a $20 and I could tell that he wasn't happy that it wasn't a $50. It had started to get late and the sun was doing this fantastic thing where it turned the sky all kinds of shades of purple, oranges, and reds. The rays of those fantastic colors began to spill into the large windows of the room and it almost felt as if at any moment, fairies and other mythological creatures would sprout from behind the bed frames and grab my hand to usher me into their world.

My serene daydream about all things fantasy was rudely interrupted by a swift knock on my suite door and when I opened it, I saw that same boy who had delivered my things, then had been ungrateful for my measly $20. He was holding a large gift box.

"Excuse me, Miss. I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I was asked to deliver this to you promptly upon your arrival," he stated, as he extended the box in my direction, and I reluctantly took it and for a second wondered if I was required to tip him again. Because of his ungratefulness the first time around, I decided that my hands were too full to indulge him and I graciously took the gift and closed the door, only saying thank you in return. 

I set the box on the bed next to my carryon bag, which held some of my most prized possessions: my journal, my iPod, and my gummy worms.

It was a beautiful black box with a silver S on the top and a beautifully hand tied silver bow. I was careful to not rip open the box. Years of my dad's teaching about wrapping paper and bow care at Christmas, I wasn't someone who ripped into packages. 

Every Christmas and birthday he would tell me to show care in unwrapping presents, just like people had showed care in wrapping it for me. I would slowly undo the tape at the edges and peel the paper off in a sheet, folding it carefully and setting it aside. It would eventually be reused for someone else. It annoyed me sometimes to do things like that, but I liked to see my dad happy, so it became a habit.

Inside, wrapped in sparking silver tissue paper was an outfit, with a handwritten note placed on top. I recognized the handwriting the minute I saw it. It was his typical hurried block print, which leaned slightly to the left.

My Dearest,

I saw this and it was beautiful as you. Please meet me down at the beach access at 9PM. I hope that you will come and you will wear this.

Always and Terribly, 

D.

I unwrapped the tissue paper further and pulled from it a stunning black two piece outfit. The top was a raven black spaghetti strap, lace front crop top with a plunging neckline and a satin back. It almost looked like one of those expensive lace camisoles. The bottom half was a floor length black sequin A-line maxi skirt, with a really high side slit that came up to my thigh. I set the outfit across my bed and went in and showered, among other things, I was careful to make sure that my legs were extremely smooth, because you didn't wear something like that and not shave like there was no tomorrow.

I dried my hair and it had a really nice beach wave happening, so I teased around the top and sides, placing it back in a mid ponytail, leaving a few springs of flowing hair to drape around my face. I chose a simple silver necklace that came around the bottom of my neck and then plunged downwards into a straight line, settling right in the curvature of my breasts. 

The top fit like a dream and showed just enough chest to be subjective, yet not slutty. My stomach was exposed in the gasp between the top and high waisted skirt and usually I would be very self conscious about not having an extremely chiseled body like some women, but I had to admit that I actually looked really good. 

I fished through my shoes and found my pair of 6" black stiletto heels, with an intricate pattern, which mimicked the lace detailing of the top Dean had bought. They had a thin ankle strap with a small silver clasp. I felt nervous as I put them on. What would happen once he stood in front of me? Would I be everything he remembered while he was gone and would I feel the same way when I looked at him?

.................................

I walked down to the main lobby in order to leave past the pool to access the beach. I could feel eyes on me from the gentlemen that were seated in the lobby or the lounge area, but it didn't matter, because the only eyes I needed to see were just past those doors. 

I glanced the clock above the reception and it read 8:45PM. My stomach suddenly decided to turn circles like an acrobat on a Cirque de Soleil performance tour. Up and down and all around, it churned, nervous and excited. I suddenly had a ton of doubts about the way I looked, my insecurities flooded me, because I was no match for some of the women I had seen walking around Miami since arriving. 

My feet hurried to reach the beach, desperately trying to run, at the same time trying not to stumble in my ridiculously high heels and end up face first in the pool next to me. If this had been a movie, this would have been the scene where the audio guys had spliced in the song "Bizarre Love Triangle" by New Order, and I would be the Anna Farris character rushing through the city streets in order to declare my love to my Chris Evans. Good thing I didn't need to steal a bike to get there, I could never ride a bike in this skirt and heels. 

I shuffled my feet as I hurried and there it stood in front of me, a beautiful beach sitting in front of a gorgeous dark ocean lit up and shinning in the moonlight. Here I was Anna Farris, but in front of me and nowhere in sight was my Chris Evans. I looked around for Dean, but I was alone, except for the occasional hotel guest walking along the beach at night, hand in hand with someone they cared for. 

My heels sunk into the sand and I reached down and lightly undid the straps, clutching them at my side in my right hand, as I stood there under the moonlight. I could feel the slight hint of tears in my eyes, when I realized that I had been wrong. He wasn't waiting for me and this wasn't a movie with a happy ending.

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A/N: Hey Guys!

Hope you like the chapter. Please don't forget to vote and comment.

Music for this chapter was of course an 90's playlist with some old school dance music.

So predictions on what's in store for Team Denari???

Amina <3