Beneath the Starry Sky

Believe

Alina Baraz - Fantasy  🎵

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I restlessly unzipped my luggage and threw on the first thing that was neither a sweater nor a pair of jeans. Fishing out a burgundy skirt and a white halter top, I pulled them over me so fast I barely got my residual clothes off.

"Are you ready?" I yelled over my shoulder as my friend, Joy, paced about the room scrutinizing our surroundings.

"It's dusty." She deadpanned.

"It's literally a hundred years old!" I sang, "That's an awful lot of pickiness for a girl who won a week's paid vacation to Cuba. Relax, Joy."

She grinned cheekily, "I know, I know. I just want it to be perfect. And we wouldn't be here without you." Her eyes twinkled.

"It will be," I said applying one last coat of waterproof mascara, "Just . . . believe."

Joy nudged me in the arm, her sparkling honey eyes arching into a crescent shape, "Don't quote me!"

I smoothed back my dark hair into a messy bun and said back, "Your submission to the school's literature contest about believing in yourself won us this trip. If anything, that's definitely your word of the week. Believe in yourself, Joy."

"Oh, come on! You basically wrote it all! You're the writer here, remember?"

We found ourselves at the lobby where the open bar was located. Okay, I get it. I know what it seems like. Two graduating girls on a resort in the tropics for free. I suppose it seems like that kind of story . . .

You can just see Joy's eyes scan the lobby bar for a few seats. Apparently getting off the plane in the evening made us miss first dibs at decent seating.

Suddenly, a droopy eyed boy with a face as red as a tomato approached us. His breath smelled like a mix of ash and something syrupy. A large cigar was trapped in between his fingers and he extended his other hand to meet ours.

"You ladies must be new here."

"And you must be drunk. Could you tell by our lack of a tan?"

I grinned at Joy's cheeky response.

"No, actually. I mean, you don't know me but I would love to get to know you. Care to join us?"

"I think he's flirting with you," I said with a snide.

Joy flipped her hair over to one shoulder and even I watched as her golden waves cascaded over her left arm.

She was already being lead to a table inhabited by a group of frat boys and suddenly I felt awkward.

To follow or not to follow. I wasn't sure if I'd fit in. All the boys were tanned and looked like they played a sport that involved some sort of hustle. I quickly spun on my heel and hoped to maybe find refuge in a group of people who were more the reading type. I just made it to the pathway right outside the lobby bar when I heard something.

"Where do you think you're going?"

My body froze at the sound.

"Pardon me?"

"All the fun's that way," the barboy said to me as he pointed over to the arch leading into the lobby bar.

"I—er—I was just going to get a few drinks!" I quipped, mentally berating myself for sounding like a squeaking mouse.

"Don't run away," he smirked, his Spanish accent heavy. I took a moment to drink him in. If he was going to accuse me of running away, I might as well take the moment to scrutinize him. He was tall with a caramel complexion. The light freckles over his nose seemed so strategically placed as if an artist fanned a thumb over a paint brush, spraying the canvas.