The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 9 - The Deal

"And then he drove me back and that was it."

"That was it? That's all. No biggie."

I lift my hands over my eyes, trying to shield them from the sun as I squint at Sosa. She is sitting cross-legged on her Playboy Bunny beach towel, mouth hanging open, sunglasses resting low over her nose. Her lips are blue from the slush puppy that is quickly melting in her hand.

It's Sunday afternoon and we're at the beach, trying to get some natural tan before the cruel, summer scorch hits the Maltese Islands. Sosa is an envious shade of russet but I can already feel my face and arms burning despite the copious amount of sunblock I applied earlier. The pale skin I inherited from my British father doesn't take to basking in the sun very well. I sit up and spray more cream on my face and shoulders, then throw my sarong over my back to protect myself from the UV.

"You went on a date with The Boss, Ally. That is not just it!"

Sosa slurps noisily through her straw and pushes her sunglasses up her nose. I look over my shoulders anxiously, hoping that nobody heard. Well, at least she's not focusing on the part where The Boss saw her regurgitate her feelings and stomach contents all over the dancefloor.

"It wasn't a date!" I object for the third time as I turn face down on my towel and introduce the back of my legs to the sun. "I have no idea what it was, but it wasn't a date."

She stretches down next to me resting her upper body on her elbows. "He came to your house and asked you to join him for lunch..."

"Demanded," I correct her. "He demanded that I join him for lunch."

"He didn't drag you from your horsetail, Ally."

"He may as well have," I scoff, but my blushed cheeks suggest otherwise.

Sosa shakes her head and goes on. "He picked you up, he bought you food and cake! He drove you back. That was a date."

I bite my lower lip as I vividly remember his searing gaze on my lips just before I panicked and bolted out of the car. 

"It wasn't a date!" I repeat stubbornly.

Sosa sits up suddenly. "What did you wear?"

I scowl at her. "What does it matter?"

"It matters!" she grins mischievously.

"Shirt. Skirt. Sneakers."

"What about your hair?"

"I washed it."

She narrows her eyes at my response. "Did you tie it back or leave it down?"

"Sosa!"

"Up or down, Ally?"

"Down," I answer guiltily.

"It. Was. A. Date!" She claps her hands with each word and l roll my eyes at her before I grab the book that lay forgotten in the sand and hit her with it.

She shields herself from my swinging arms and then takes another noisy swig from her puppy.

"You know you can't like him, right?" she questions, her voice taking a more serious tone. "Because we both know where that road goes."

"Sosa, please stop!" I beg, covering my ears with my hands and trying desperately to disappear into the sand.

"I'm just looking out for you. Look, I've known The Boss for ages. I know how he is with women. You have to be careful around him. He's trouble."