Melanie Parks had it all. An amazing childhood best friend Lauren Porter, they're attending one of the best colleges in the country together, a great family, and a longtime boyfriend, Jamie Sanders, she loves and who loves her back.
Or so she thoug...
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"He's just trying to rub it in our face," Jamie grumbles early afternoon Saturday as we walk from the blacked out private Cadillac Escalade parked on the tarmac of Roanoke–Blacksburg Regional Airport, just a few feet away from the private jet we're flying on to Cancun.
Beckham has funded the trip for us and has snagged his family's jet for us to fly over even though his family is based in New York. He called it a Gulfstream G280, but I'm not quite sure what that means other than it being a private jet.
I'm not sure what Beckham's family has done to get the wealth they have, his parents do well and both sides of their extended families have set the future generations up well. Not to mention how much they contribute to countless charities all year long.
"Jamie, be nice," I huff. I'm bundled up in a couple layers for the barely fifty degree weather we're experiencing in Blacksburg and the flight, with my white boxy cropped pullover sweater on top of my muted lavender sports bra with a square neck and v-shaped back I paired with the matching highrise leggings.
Things have been weird the past couple weeks with us since we got into our argument and he bruised my wrist.
Which is almost back to normal, thank God.
We didn't talk at all this past week and then last night, he just showed up with his packed Monos luggage for the week long trip and crashed with Lauren, Beckham and I at the apartment.
He was a bit grumpy all night, and even though I tried my best to brush it off by blaming it on the end of a long midterm week, I know Lauren and Beckham didn't buy it.
I haven't told anyone, including Lauren, what happened after class on Wednesday between Spencer and I. My brain hasn't been able process what that kiss was about, why he chose to do it, knowing I'm with Jamie.
Or why the hell I kissed him back.
I've been doing my best to act like nothing's wrong for more than forty-eight hours by trying to forget about it, but nothing's been working, so I've been keeping it pushed to the back of my head so Lauren and Jamie can't pick up on something being off with me.
Currently, my thankfully oblivious best friend and her boyfriend are walking just ahead of us while Lauren is all but acting like a child on their first trip with how bouncy and giddy she is right now.
"I've been dying for a break," her voice carries through the chilly air. She's in her own matching activewear set of an iron heather pullover sweater and joggers which has an elastic waistband and pockets.
Our luggage is being loaded by the Wilders' crew, including all of Lauren, Beckham's and my matching BÉIS luggage and Jamie's luggage.
"Angel, it's only been a few weeks since winter break," Beckham chuckles. His hand that had been trying to rest on her backside with all her energy slowly drifts from her as she begins to climb the steps of the private jet in front of him. He's quick to follow, one hand on the railing, one hand holding my best friend's mini weekender bag since she has her guitar in hand and the expandable backpack on her back.
