The smell of pancakes and sausages stir me from my slumber. Mom is cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Dad snores on the let-out couch. I chuckle at his sprawled-out body.

I slept great last night. The best rest ever, to be honest. I think I needed a pep talk from my mom this whole time. I need to forget Brad. As Lil said, I need to keep telling myself to leave him. I'm going to work on it day by day. Mom wears a flower sleep dress. Her hair is tussled across her head. She looks like she went to a hardcore party last night...all we had were coolers.

"Morning, mom." I greet, wrapped up in a sheet.

"Hey, sweety, how'd you sleep?"

"Like a baby."

"He he he, I should snap a pic next time and compare it to your baby picture."

"That's...kinda creepy, mom."

"Not when it's your child. You'll find out one day."

I go to the cabinets and unload plates and glasses. "I'll probably need my food to go."

"You're working?"

I shoot a glance her way. "Yeah...at the country club, remember?"

She flips the sausages over in the pan, using a spatula. "Why not take some time off?"

"I did." I go to the fridge for orange juice. "Staying home got boring. I was alone with my thoughts too much."

"Bad thoughts?" Mom lowers the knobs on the stove and faces me.

"Yeah." My eyes tunnel vision on the heating pancake batter, studying the tiny bubbles atop the white mix.

"About what?"

I open the juice and fill the glasses. "It wasn't just one thing. It was a lot. The accident...my skin—my ex. Jace." I admit being distracted by him. I don't mind being transparent with my mom. "Staying home only made me feel worse."

"What about your skin?" She tries to evaluate it, but I'm all wrapped up in the sheet. "Is it healing wrong?"

"No...I just don't like the marks."

"We can hit the spa for a good exfoliation; you can get some cream too."

"Maybe."

"Now...is it okay to talk about the hunk, or no?"

"Mom..." I shake my head and cap the juice carton.

"Well, you just brought him up, so..."

"Just don't...do what you did last night." I flinch, grossed out.

"Okay, I won't." She goes back to preparing breakfast. "Why was Jace on your mind?"

I sip on orange juice. "He made advances."

"Oh." She revels in the gossip. "Advances, more than once?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"You'll scold me about it. Just know he was pretty forward."

"I won't get mad, swear to God." She holds her hand up.

Hmm...she made a swear. I guess I can tell her. "Umm...well, he tried asking me out. He was sly with it though, and just asked if I was on shift the next day. Then he asked if I was single."

"I get why you didn't take him up on it....you were with that Brad guy."

"Yeah...but he was getting too hot-headed."

"Still, you stuck by him."

"True...but I was tempted by Jace...he offered me a getaway to his island." Mom gapes at me. "It was nice and all, but I felt I would have owed him something."

My mom opens and closes her mouth, flabbergasted by my words. Her hands waver the air to compute her bewilderment. "Madison...you." Mom stammers. "How could you turn that down? I get you had a boyfriend, but that's an unbelievable offer. Was it free of cost?" I drink instead of answering; she takes this as a yes. "Oh, wow... he's very into you. Involving himselfin your condition...assigning doctors...offering a getaway."

"Yeah...he did a lot for me."

"Lily is right about you needing to give Jace a chance."

"I'm not in the best shape right now."

"I'll help you get there." Mom flips the pancakes over. "Spa days, girl nights, shopping. You need to take a leave from work; you're throwing yourself back in way too soon. Take a few weeks to recover. I'm sure your boss will understand." She points to a plate. I take it over and watch her transfer the pancakes onto it. Mom glops more batter in the pan.

"That'll be fun."

"It will! Us girls can hit the city."

"Yeah, we should do that."

I go on a leave of absence from work until further notice. These weeks are full of fun with my girls and my mom. Dad is too busy watching sports and stuffing his face to care to join us. We hit up a spa for facials, pore extractions, and hydration masks. My mom informs a worker that I would like something for skin discoloration. "I suggest microdermabrasion."

"That sounds painful..."

"The name is scary, but trust me, it's not. Think of it as a body facial. There's no pain." The worker reassures me.

"Try it out!" Mom cheers as a lady slops yellow cream on her face.

"Don't be a wuss," Lil smirks through a sheet mask.

"How long until I see results?"

"Depends on how damaged your skin is."

"Umm, I had road burns. My skin is healed. I just hate the uneven tone."

The worker gives me a hesitant look. "I'm afraid serious scarring won't be as impacted by the treatment."

"Oh..." I frown.

"You could still try it. The treatment will somewhat help your condition." I debate this and stare ahead pensively. "There's a lightning cream I can recommend."

"I'll try that...thank you."

"I'll get it ready for you." The employee leaves to a desk in front of the storefront windows. The spa is in the dead center of downtown: tall buildings, congested streets and sidewalks. I survey the vehicles and pedestrians while my spa specialist spreads cool, yellow gel across my face.

We hit the bar a lot. Although I'm a tender, I don't drink very much. Holidays and my birthday are a given. Other than that, I rarely drink. I order a strawberry lemonade with a shot of Hennessey because it's a special outing. Jess order Pina Coladas for her and Lily. Mom gets an Expresso Martini. Most days, we walk the city streets in cute outfits while window shopping. The designer stores are too overpriced to step foot in.

I wish I could get clothes for free again; there's a mini dress I need to own. Of course, I'll wear tights with it and powder everywhere else. I hope this cream works fast so I can get out of this low self-esteem phase. I wear dressy outfits instead of dresses, as everyone else is. I must look crazy on the scorching days, but I blend in well when the sun is down.

There are karaoke nights...of course. Everyone participates, even dad. He selects all Johnny Cash songs using a realistic country accent, despite us being from Western America. Lil and Jess duet Zombie by The Cranberries. Mom is a die-hard fan of Janis Joplin, so she does an over-the-top performance of Cry Baby.

I find it hard picking a song, so Lil chooses for me. Gimme More by Britney. Her meaning behind this one is evident. I eye her, fed up. My bestie hypes me up to sing by swaying her hips. I can't help but join her. Jess claps along. Mom laughs. Dad is uncomfortable with the provocative lyrics. My slutty side peeks out some, not too much. My parents are around.

Tonight, we watch Gone With The Wind and devour extra cheesy popcorn. It's been two weeks; I feel somewhat better. My scars have lightened some, but not enough to my liking. I still feel gross. Undesirable.

My constant habit of stalking Jace online is still active. I'd like to know what he's up to...and if he has another woman. Why would he wait after all my rejections? The first ones I meant, the last one, I regret. I was so tangled in Brad. I wish I weren't. I haven't thought too much about him. I've had a few moments of weakness when going to bed. We shared a bed, so that's gonna leave a stain...but I can move on. I can do it. I am doing it.

"Dudes, she's creeping on his page again!" Lil exposes me.

"Why would you-"

"Eh...I'm bored." She shrugs.

"How long has she been doing that?" Mom, whose feet are across dad's lap, leans forward to watch me.

"Probably since they first talked...I remember following you around." Dad adds.

"But women can't do that. We can't look desperate; guys don't like it."

"He doesn't know I'm on his page. It's not stalking when someone's a public figure that tweets nonstop."

"There she goes with excuses." Jess chuckles.

"No excuses; let him come to you." My mom lectures.

"We need to get you ready for Sunday. That's when he's at the country club." Jess explains to my parents.

"Yep, time for another detox."

"My bumps are getting really bad." I pout over my new pimples. "Let's do it." Lil and I pinky swear .

"I say just tell him outright; trust me, men like straightforwardness. Don't draw it out." Dad counsels.

"No...she has to draw it out...or Jace will think she's easy."

"I'm not sure about talking to him..." I end my parents' argument.

Mom sighs. "Dear, the marks are barely noticeable. You're in better spirits. Why not take a strike at it?

"No, not a strike, a swing." Dad corrects the baseball term.

"Oh, whatever, she gets what I mean."

I detox from shitty food and consider Sunday. Is Jace still interested in me? What if I make a fool of myself? I am in a better mood...I'm happier, less depressed. What if going for the move will destroy that? I'd rather not crumble to pieces because of a man. My soul can't afford the damage. I'll just chat if he comes over. I won't show interest until he does.

Jace has to come to me, although he's done it plenty of times. I hope he does it once more, so I know his intentions are still there. Or... should I revive my boldness and just ask if he's seeing anyone? Dad's advice is probably the most solid. He's a man, after all, and knows how they think.

On Sunday, I choose to be outgoing, but realistic. I can't be too eager or too afraid. I have on little foundation for the stubborn pimples that refused to be purged. My new work shirt has a babydoll flare bottom, and my pants are pretty modern in style. They're a mixture between jeggings and slacks. I'll need to buy more from Shein.

The banquet hall is packed. The golf grounds explode with fireworks despite the 4th of July being over. The music is festive. It's pop-jazz with a drum-bass line. I'm getting a steamy Christmas vibe. I wait for the guest to approach the bar, but most have full drinks. Turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, and veggies are the main course. I grin at a little girl who has a potato mustache and at a boy who pops peas at tables.

Many guests are dancing more than they're sitting. The dance floor is lit up white and is centered below a massive glass chandelier. The intimacy of the couples turns my heart mushy. I'm mystified by their body contact. How they sway to the music as one. Here comes the jealous envy. I look down at the bar, much like a wounded puppy. I don't want to get upset over something I don't have.

"Dance with me."

My sight rises from the counter to Jace. He snuck up on me again. "I'm working."

"I could have words with your boss." His lean face and high cheeks bewitch me. I'm tempted to let my fingers explore his beautiful features. I hide my hands under the counter to avoid doing so.

"I'm not dressed for dancing."

Jace's seafoam eyes dissect my uniform. "So?"

"I'm on the clock."

"The place isn't busy."

I review the stylish silver suit he rocks. "I'll look like an idiot next to you."

"Then...how about we go outside?"

"Outside?! Am I not fancy enough for the dance floor?" I scoff sarcastically.

He grins at my glee. "You're in a better mood. I assume you took my advice and left your boyfriend."

"Maybe..." I peer to the side.

"I knew you'd use your brain."

"I'm not as smart as you think I am."

"Well...even geniuses make stupid choices."

"Oh, you're a dumb genius. I would have never thought it."

"You'd be surprised."

I sit a tall glass on the counter. "Tell me your worst choice ever made. I'll return the favor in drink form."

"Alright, I'm game." He watches me concoct a mystery drink. "A ring-sized phone. The system was too microscopic to handle the high tech. This lead to nonstop malfunctions." I gather one ounce of rum, tequila, vodka, whiskey, granulated sugar, and cola. "I know what that is."

"Damn..." I huff. "Well, that was anti-climatic."

"I wouldn't say that." He smirks.

I stir the liquors in a Collins glass, add sugar, three ice cubes, then cola. Mix it well and serve it with a straw. There's a mini twister in the glass, complete with debris-esque dots from the sugar. "Enjoy the tornado."

His olive eyes remain on my hands instead of the drink. "Have dinner with me."

"You haven't tasted it."

"I'm sure it's great." His silky voice clatters my insides. "Rooftop dining. How does that sound?"

"I doubt you're single."

"I could be...if you'd like." I gush and take the drink instead. I have to extinguish the inner burning. He smiles crookedly, aware of why I stole his beverage. "Is that helping?"

"Hmm, mm," I mumble mid-sip.

"You know...gasoline only displeases fire."

I finish the tornado and slam the glass down. "It doesn't."

Jace leans his enormous upper half over the bar to graze his fingers down my cheekbone. "How about now?" My gut blazes. I shudder at the touch of his hot palm on my face. I lose control of my eyelids, they droop sensually. "Have dinner with me."

"No." I play with him.

"I never met a woman who stood up a billionaire."

"Now you have."

"I don't put this much effort in unless it's worth it. Everything I've done has to lead to something."

"Let me guess, dinner?" I conclude wittily.

He breathes through his nose. "Don't you want to know why I gave you so much?"

"That's easy...and starts with an s."

"No." He raises a daring brow. "You think so little of me, Madison."

I fall victim to his bassy voice. I love how my name drips from his lips. "Tell me why?" I ask wistfully.

His radiator palm slides from my face to my shirt sleeve. "Dinner. I'm sure you look amazing in a dress."

I pull away from the counter with a dodgy demeanor. All of my interest fades away. I'm no longer flirty. "I don't..." I remark dully.

"What do you mean?" I don't respond to his befuddled question. My mind time travels to the bloody nightmare I had. The body gore. The disgusting scars. Myself lying in a puddle of red.

I absentmindedly tug the cuffs of my sleeves lower. "I'm not free tonight." He says my name in an even more uncertain tone. I guess he didn't pick up on my insecurity. I'm kind of glad he didn't. I'm sick of people telling me my injuries aren't that bad. That's easy to say from the outside looking in. I feel how I feel; there's no changing it. This was dumb of me. I'm not ready to date...or see anyone.

I keep quiet and begin prepping wine and cocktail beverages. Jace's stare is felt, even when a line of guest form. I create their drinks, wondering why he hasn't left. I told him I'm not free tonight, although I have no plans.

The eye contact I share with the customers is brief to escape Jace. I can't help but clock his expression. There's a hint of sourness. There I go wrecking his intentions again. I hoped for a better chat. My sudden lack of interest must have hurt him. Jace must think I'm insane...I'm not. I don't know what I am. I'm lost. I tried giving him a chance...until my PTSD came along. I can't wear a dress. It's crazy how something so small can trigger me.

Once customers disperse, Jace comes back to the bar counter. "I want to know what you meant by that."

"I'm not free tonight."

"No...the other part. The dress part. Why do you think that?"

"Did you forget I jumped out of a car and tore flesh?"

"If the healing process isn't to your liking, my doctors could-"

"No, it's not that...the skin is healed."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I'm...I'm...the problem." My eyes meet his attentive ones. "I need time....I can't wear a dress." I drop my sight to the bar.

"That won't last long."

"I think it will..." My tiny voice is nearly drowned out by the music. "Even though the scars are faded...I still see them as worse."

"Why?"

I peep up at him. "Maybe you have to go through it to understand."

"I saw the damage...I'm aware of how bad it was. Still, it's been a month; there's no way you look worse. Your mind is tricking you. I could refer you to a specialist."

"I'm not crazy...."

"Needing help doesn't make you crazy. The driver, your near heart attack, and now this. No one can survive that much trauma. I've attended sessions myself; therapy isn't for the insane." He states honestly. "It's for the struggling."

"Did it help?"

"Yes."

I look down at my hands, unsure about going to a shrink. "I don't know...I think I need to figure it out on my own. Thanks for the suggestion, though."

Jace becomes agitated by my words. "I should have stood by my last goodbye. You might not know this, but I don't get this invested for the hell of it. Usually, there's wining and dining, sex, cash, and onto the next. I'm not even sure why I'm still trying with you. There hasn't been any payback...yet I keep putting myself on the line." He inhales deeply. "Now I'm sharing too much...while you're giving nothing."

"I thanked you more than once! I just got out of a shitty relationship. Cut me some slack!"

"I tried too...twice now; you're rejecting help."

"I don't want to owe you. I don't know what it'll mean."

"Madison...I told you what it means."

"Just conversation and dinner?" I scorn. "In my experience, guys want more than that."

"You shouldn't compare all men...I mean what I say."

"You just said it yourself; dinner, sex, cash, and onto the next."

"That's how it usually goes, meaning this is an exception." He strains his point. "But you're too prejudiced to hear me out. I hope you get better. Goodbye, Madison." Jace steps off with a hard stride.

#Romance
#Love