{WATTYS 2021/2022 SHORTLIST}{Editor's Pick} {Featured Story}
This is a FREE STORY with Paid Bonus Content.
One girl. Two boys. An impossible choice.
Stella LaFever, a theatre student from California, can't wait to spend a summer in Newport, Rhode I...
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Chapter Song: Gorgeous by Taylor Swift
Pink rays of sunlight stretched across the lawn, outlining the most beautiful man I'd ever seen.
He was dancing in the grass with a little girl. She was giggling. He was twirling, keeping time with the swanky dinner music played by a live jazz ensemble. It was like watching Fred Astaire with a tiny Ginger Rogers. The uniform only added to the cuteness of it all.
I tilted my head to the side, wondering if he could swing dance with a grown woman just as well.
I watched him for a moment longer, drawn to his warm smile. His eyes were the color of dark maple syrup, and they seemed lit with sweet delight when they landed on mine.
He spun the little girl around, and his gaze found mine again. My cheeks filled with heat. The air around me crackled with desire.
"You're staring. And biting your lip," Leona whispered. I quickly looked away, breaking the momentary spell he had cast over me.
"No, I wasn't."
"Yes, you were."
I bristled. "I was admiring his dance routine."
"Uh huh," Leona added. Eyes rolling.
I grabbed the waiting tray of oysters on a half shell with more force than necessary. Looking anywhere but at Leona or the grassy dance floor.
He was military, and I knew they were all the same. Doting and sweet when they were home, but the second duty called—they forgot all about you.
"Don't look now, but your dancing guy is walking this way."
"He's not my dancing guy." I strutted off into the sea of uniforms and delicate cocktail dresses, holding out the tray as gracefully as I could. Trying to swallow around the feeling of annoyance and strange desire bubbling inside.
I maneuvered around the busy lawn, acting unbothered, offering oysters to the guests. Half shells were taken, but no one said a word to me. All the guests acted as if I was a moving plate of food. Continuing their more important conversations while ignoring me.
I searched the crowd for Leona and found her across the lawn, chatting with Mr. Blue Jacket from the parking lot. I caught his friend with the messy chocolate curls staring. He quickly looked away—embarrassment staining his cheeks—before he went back to chatting with Leona.
Leona wasn't someone people ignored.
Reluctantly, I approached another cluster of guests. One thing I couldn't complain about was the tips. Twenties. Fifties. One greasy man in a foreign military uniform even slid me a hundred. I tucked them inside my apron and kept walking.
Once my tray was empty, I made my way back to the raw bar to refill it. The crowd of guests was growing thicker as the sun sank low in the sky, dipping into the waters below.
