Chapter 6
Later that night, I was getting ready to head over to the pool with Nicole as the product of something only seen out of the movies.
Her, Ricky, and Bessa, had taken delight in torturing me all day. I had gotten my first Brazilian bikini wax (I'm surprised I made it off the table with the lower half of my body still attached), my eyebrows had gotten assaulted through threading (I actually cried), it took two hours for Ricky to find the perfect red day dress that could transition into night with a classy and sophisticated feel (his words, not mine), and after a heated hour of debate, I had convinced them that I was going to get a simple French manicure instead of fake acrylics the color of blood (it actually took an hour of convincing).
My dinner with Nate wasn't even until Friday night and already they were acting like it was in two hours.
Anyway, I was completely relieved to finally get back to the hotel to change into something comfortable to wear to the pool. A part of me was excited to see Max there because it was new for me to make a connection without having anyone else be the middle man. I was comfortable going out of my way to make friends, instead of staying low and waiting for someone to come find me. No longer was I the closeted bookworm who was too lame to even approach other professionals in my field.
I assumed tonight was going to be similar to the first night where I witnessed a bunch of professionals in the writing industry running around like drunken messes as if we were at a college frat party. While it was unconventional, as a writer myself, I knew how hard it was to completely let go of work and stop the mind from thinking of what the next topic or article you're going to write is. The publishing industry was more fast paced than most think it to be and I found myself continually trying to stay ahead of falling behind.
That being said, I thought we rightfully deserved to let loose for a month. The thought alone of the amount of work I'd have to catch up on once back home was enough to make me want to do a keg stand.
Once I had settled on a simple cotton dress and sandals, and Nicole had finally finished applying a thin layer of body shimmer (didn't know that existed until this moment), we headed down to the pool. As Nicole chatted on and on about some writer from Vogue she was thinking of getting free shoes from, my mind was surprisingly flashing images of Nate.
I'd be lying if I said he hadn't been on my mind since we literally bumped into each other the other day. Was I nervous about dinner tomorrow night? Just a little, if only because of the backlash I knew we would receive once the media got wind of it, which would probably happen the instant we were even seen at the same restaurant together. We were at a writer's retreat - this was an article practically writing itself.
But behind all the worry, there was mostly curiosity. What had Nate been up to for the past three years? How was his family? Was he dating anyone?
To top off that curiousity, I could only imagine what questions he had for me.
My biggest fear was that we would realize that we had grown up into two different adults from who we once were, and that these two new versions of Nate and Haley wouldn't get along. I had no hidden intentions for this dinner - I couldn't say the same for Nate - but at the very least, I did want him back in my life as a friend. He and I had this very complicated understanding of each other, a connection only we shared. He was, after all, the first friend I truly ever met in New York and to some people that may be insignificant, but to me, that fact had sentimental value.
He had done wrong, made his fair share of mistakes, and undoubtedly hurt me. I still had no regrets for forgiving him and moving on. I was able to breathe easier for the past three years because of it. Nate seemed as if he'd done a bit of growing up, matured in his own way at his own pace, and I could only be rooting him on from the sidelines. While the events from the internship would forever be a forceful contributor to the stronger and wiser person I am today, I knew it had done the same for him. We both came out of it a bit bruised, but not entirely broken.
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More Issues In Aruba | ✔️
ChickLit*Sequel to More Issues Than Vogue* Three years after Haley Monroe interned at Forward magazine, she's now one of the associate writers for the New Yorker. Haley is at the top of her game and has landed on the list of New York's "Writers on the Rise"...