Bad for You by Weston Parker

19

TRISTIN

Tristin: What do you think about the bear?

After hitting Send on the message, I set my phone down on my stomach and waited for her to reply. The sun was setting beyond the windows in my room, and I turned my head to watch it paint the sky in pastel colors above the towering treetops outside.

The phone buzzed a few seconds later. I grabbed it and unlocked it in one swift movement as I held it up in front of me to read her response. Texting her like this reminded me of all the hours we’d spent doing the same thing back in high school.

It was a little disquieting to think that so many years later, we were both in the same bedrooms we used to be in while we sent messages back and forth. In the same houses. Texting with the same person. Like nothing had changed or happened for either of us in between, and yet, so much had.

Brittany: I love it. My students did too. Your delivery sparked a few conversations I didn’t need to hear them having. Do you know what the correlation is between kissing and a dead fish?

A bark of laughter came out of me. Immediately clicking in the text box to reply, I scrolled through the options available and sent back a gif of a popular celebrity shaking her head, the words “Hell no” written at the bottom.

She sent back a string of shrugging emojis, the bouncing dots indicating that she was busy typing another reply. It came in a second later, and I laughed again when I read the message.

Brittany: Neither do I, but apparently if you kiss the right person, their tongue isn’t like a dead fish in your mouth.

Tristin: You have to be the right person for me, then, because I’ve never thought about dead fish while kissing you.

Brittany: Well, that’s awkward. I was actually thinking about nothing else.

Tristin: You could’ve fooled me.

Brittany: Haha. I’m a good actress.

Tristin: No one is that good. Why are we talking about dead fish?

Brittany: A teacher receiving an entire shop’s worth of flowers and a bear in a bikini gets eight-year-olds talking. They asked if the delivery was from my boyfriend, which led to them asking if I kissed you, which then prompted a debate about kissing.

Tristin: Whoever told a kid about kissing and a dead fish in the same sentence has been kissing the wrong people. Just saying.

Brittany: I agree, but in her defense, I think the sister who told him that is about sixteen. Sixteen-year-old boys aren’t exactly known for those skills.

Tristin: Hey! Are you saying I wasn’t a talented kisser at sixteen?

Brittany: Suddenly thinking about limp salmon.

Tristin: At least salmon is the king of fish. I’m taking it as a compliment.

Brittany: As you should. You were the best kisser out of all the sixteen-year-olds I kissed.

Tristin: I was the only sixteen-year-old you kissed. Plus, that was only once. It was much better by the time we started kissing more often. I was a whole year older.

Brittany: So true. Practice makes perfect, and we sure did practice a whole lot.

Tristin: Yeah, but I think we definitely need more practice. We’ve gotten it pretty perfect, but we can always get better.

Brittany: Better than perfect? But fine. I suppose I’m willing to keep practicing if you are.

Tristin: Excellent. We’ll practice constantly this weekend. Speaking of which, you’re coming, right?

The dots bounced for several minutes before her next reply finally came in. Just when I started getting nervous, her message appeared.

Brittany: I’m not sure if it’s a good idea. We’ve only just started seeing each other again, if that’s even what we’re doing. Don’t you think we should wait a while before we start taking trips together?

Tristin: Nope. You already know I’m not a serial killer, and it’s not like I’m a stranger you’ve only been on one date with.

Brittany: Serial killer or stranger aren’t the only reasons not to go away with someone. I want to go. I just don’t want to rush you. You’ve only been back a few weeks. Don’t you need more time to settle in?

Tristin: I do, but I want to settle in with you. We’re not rushing anything. How long have we known each other? If you ask me, we’ve wasted enough time.

Brittany: Do you really feel that way? There’s so much we haven’t talked about.

Tristin: We’ll get there. There’s nothing holding us back, and there’s no clock hanging over our heads. No graduation looming that means we need to make big decisions that might separate us. We’ve got all the time in the world to talk.

Brittany: Okay, but the beach? Wouldn’t you rather start with dinner?

Tristin: I plan on feeding you once we’re there. We’ll have dinner. Come on, Brit. You’ll love it there, and you deserve a break.

There was another delay before she answered again.

Brittany: If I say yes, we’ll only be able to go overnight anyway because of school.

Tristin: It’s Memorial Day. You don’t have school on Monday, but we can come back whenever you want.

I took a deep breath, hoping that my gamble was going to pay off. Archer had suggested a few other things during the course of the day, but I didn’t think buying a star and naming it after her was going to work.

Plus, now that he’d put the idea of taking her with me to Wrightsville Beach in my head, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It would mean getting to spend an extended weekend with her, as well as showing her that I was ready and willing to stand by her side in front of my parents and everyone they knew.

Actions spoke louder than words, and I knew she’d never really believed me when I’d said that I didn’t care that we came from such different backgrounds. My hope was that this would be an action that would prove to her that even with the benefit of age and maturity, I hadn’t changed my mind. She was who I wanted in my life, and I didn’t give a fuck if she didn’t come with a family legacy or a trust fund.

In the past when we’d spoken about it, she’d often asked me how I knew I wouldn’t feel differently in a few years’ time. Now it was more than a few years later, and I felt exactly the same. American Aviation was more than strong enough to stand on its own, and even if it hadn’t been, I still wouldn’t have fucked around with arranged marriages instead of corporate mergers.

We weren’t living in the middle ages. Work was work, and my personal life was my personal life. I would make whatever decisions I thought best in both of those things without one influencing the other. Obviously, I knew sometimes work would interfere in my personal life, and at other times, my personal life would interfere with work.

I wasn’t naïve enough to think I could keep the two completely separate at all times. But I would still forge my own way in both those things, regardless of what Selena’s opinions were about the matter.

When my phone finally buzzed again, a wide grin spread over my face. I fired off my reply instantly, then closed out my messaging app to start making the arrangements.

Brittany: Okay, I’m in.

Tristin: Thank you. I mean it. You won’t regret this, baby. Promise. We’re going to have the best weekend ever.

I almost added in an I love you, but we definitely weren’t there yet. So instead, I said good night and promised to speak to her again tomorrow.

After that, I sat up and fluffed my pillow behind my back as I pulled my laptop closer. Parking it on my legs, I opened it up and set out to make sure everything would be perfect this weekend.

The sun had well and truly set by now, but the downlights in my room were on. I’d already eaten, so I settled in for the night and pulled up a short-term rental website.

It was one Archer had recommended, and as soon as it opened, I saw why. There were pages upon pages of listings, and each house looked better than the next. When I saw a smaller house, right on the beach and not far from my parents’ place, I knew I’d found the right one.

It wasn’t as luxurious or ostentatious as most of the others, but Brittany would love it. The outside was painted light blue with a white roof. Three of the outer walls were solid with only some small windows in them, but the one facing the beach was made entirely out of glass.

The bedroom and living area opened up onto the sand, and from the pictures, it appeared like lying on the bed with the doors open would feel like we were on the beach. Soft white curtains hung in front of the windows, and the glass was tinted for privacy.

Sold.

A few clicks later, I’d booked it. An automated message popped up from the rental agency saying to contact them if I needed them to arrange any extras.

As it happened, I would need a few more things from them. In order for everything to be ready before our arrival, I arranged for freshly cut flowers, a stocked fridge, picnic stuff, a chef to prepare catered meals, and even a bubble bath to be placed in the en suite bathroom.

The whole nine yards.

Once that was done, I browsed through the remaining pages on their website and lingered on the one listing the activities in the area. Making a mental note of what we could do if we wanted, I decided against pre-booking anything. A private harbor cruise was an interesting idea, but I wouldn’t need to charter a boat.

Our place wasn’t far away from the yacht club, and we had a yacht as well as a crew there. If Brittany wanted to go out on the water, I’d organize for our own people to take us. Unless Selena and my father were making use of the yacht for their guests, in which case I’d look into getting another one.

While I’d been in the Air Force, I hadn’t dated much, and I’d never really spent much money. Now, I was going all out to impress her because I didn’t want to lose her again. Even though I knew she didn’t care about the money, I wanted to spend it on her.

If there was even the slightest chance that it could help me win her over, I’d spend every last dime I had. I might not have gone for any of Archer’s completely over-the-top ideas, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t spoil her.

Life was all about balance. I could do this. I could balance being the CEO of a company that was responsible for thousands of livelihoods with a new relationship. Balance spoiling her with staying grounded.

I could do it all.

As long as she gave me the chance to do it.