Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
"Another glass, miss?" A smiling blond male server close to my age appears with a tray of golden bubbles. He would be considered good looking I’m sure, but I don’t have those kinds of feelings. I’ve never had a crush or swooned over a rock star or taken the time to figure out if my body is compatible with sexual pleasure.
It all seems like a time-wasting distraction and whether that’s from how I was raised or how my brain is wired, it doesn’t change the fact that my focus remains on my studies and soon, the first of what will more than likely be several advanced degrees.
I stare at the champagne flutes, the ascending bubbles catching the fairy lights as couples on the dancefloor embrace and a flicker of unusual sadness settles on my shoulders. . Another glass would not be smart. Nineteen years of playing it safe, following the rules, taking twice as many classes as everyone else, never taking summers off and being exactly what everyone expects is who I am.
I might be quirky, but I’m a reliable kind of quirky.
"You know what?" I pluck a glass from the tray tipping it in his direction, my decision crystallizing with alcohol-fueled clarity. "I've spent my entire life being sensible. Tonight, I'm drunk enough to be stupid."
The server looks puzzled, but I'm already moving, champagne in one hand, bouquet in the other, weaving through the dancing couples toward the lodge's back corridor. I don’t know where I’m going, but the noise and people are making me twitchy not to mention the constant looping thoughts about the inevitable humiliation I am about to endure on an adventure outing that will surely have my paid guide ready to throw me off Wildfire Mountain by the end of day one.
The hallway is blissfully quiet, the music fading to a distant hum. I find the ladies' room at the end of the corridor and stumble inside, grateful for the silence. Setting my glass and bouquet on the marble countertop, I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
My dark hair has escaped its careful updo, wisps framing my flushed face. The champagne has made my eyelids droop a bit. I’m smiling back at myself with an air of confidence I don’t remember having before. I look I look like someone who might actually survive in the mountains instead of becoming bear food on day one.
"Okay, Marley," I tell my reflection, straightening my shoulders, tugging at the dress where the size zipper irritates my skin. "You've got this. It's just camping. With a professional. How hard can it be?"
I retrieve the glass of champagne, hold it up toasting the new Marley I see in the mirror, press the cool glass to my lips and…the bathroom door swings open, the sounds of the wedding echoing off the gleaming tile walls as I spin on my toe, preparing for an awkward interaction with a fellow female inside the small space of the bathroom.
Instead, I find myself staring at a wall of man that seems to fill the entire doorframe.
He's massive. At least six-foot-four, with shoulders that could probably bench press a small car. Waves of dark hair that looks like he's been running his hands through it are thick, and a scruffy beard that belongs in a cologne commercial for men who chop their own firewood. But it's his eyes that stop my champagne-addled brain in its tracks—glacier blue and sharp enough to cut glass, currently fixed on me with an expression of barely contained amusement as a glass of amber liquid sits almost forgotten in the palm of one massive hand.
"Wrong door?" I squeak, my voice climbing an octave before cracking, reminding me that adolescence wasn’t that long ago. I manage to find the countertop with the base of the champagne glass, swallowing through the sudden dryness of my mouth, the glass scraping over the marble as I leave it untouched.
This flannel and denim clad genetically privileged man leans against the doorframe, and I catch the faint scent of pine and smoke. "Nope.” He cocks his head to the side. “Sign says ladies' room. You're a lady. I'd say you're exactly where you're supposed to be."
Heat floods my cheeks is this guy thick or what? "I meant for you. This is the women's bathroom. Although, it seems a little behind the times there’s no gender-neutral option."
"True, but there’s nothing gender-neutral about you." His voice is like whiskey poured over gravel, with the hint of an accent I can't place.
“Really? And what exactly is gender-neutral supposed to look like?”
He doesn’t flinch. Just watches me with that steady, unreadable gaze. “That’s up to the person. Watched you come in here, felt like you might need something.”
I close my eyes for a second, sure when I open them, he will be gone, trying to process this situation through what is likely a .02 blood alcohol content. But when I open my eyes, he’s just there, taking a sip of what looks like whiskey from a crystal glass. "I’m pretty sure there are rules about a man entering a lady’s room without a janitor’s cart or a wrench to fix a leaking commode. You should find your way back to wherever it is you came from before I scream."