Nothing Personal: A Standalone Romantic Comedy Read online

  But tomorrow Kessler and I have a meeting with George and Andy, the VP who spends half his time in the Arizona office. I don’t even think Kessler has met him yet. We’re both supposed to come up with new marketing ideas, probably for Valentines Day, and I’ve been trying to figure which one to swing past them. We’ve been taking Kahuna Hotels in a younger direction, hence why my revamp of the hotel bars has been so popular. But I know where Kessler used to work, our competitor, have really pushed that hip, sexy edge. I’m sure whatever Kessler pushes on them will speak to that, so I have to take a classier approach.

  “Earth to Nova,” Kate says, waving her hand in front of my face.

  “What?” I tell her, fiddling with my cocktail umbrella and bringing my attention back to the present.

  “I was talking about Kessler’s Big Dick Energy.”

  I nearly spit out my drink. “What are you talking about?” I glance at Bradah Ed.

  He shrugs. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t come here to talk about other guy’s dicks.”

  She lets out a disgruntled moan. “Auuuurgh. Don’t you guys know what’s going on in the world at all? Don’t you know memes?”

  “All I know is there is a hottie over there giving me the eye,” he says, leaning back to scope out a chick in a bikini sitting at the bar, glancing coquettishly over her shoulder at us.

  “How do you know she’s not checking out me?” Kate asks, insulted, apparently.

  “You wish,” Bradah Ed says, getting out of his chair while sipping on his coconut and smoothly moving over to the girl. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  “Forget about him,” Kate says with a dismissive wave.

  “I already have,” I tell her. “So, uh, why were you talking about Kessler’s dick?”

  She grins at me, wagging her brows. “Wouldn’t you like to know? No wait. You do know. Let me guess, you’ve already seen it since he’s been here.”

  She’s not wrong but I’m not about to bring up the chicken incident or the amount of times he’s had a boner around me.

  And I’m definitely not going to bring up the fact that we kissed last night.

  No, I’m taking that one to my grave.

  I swear it.

  “Kessler’s my boss, need I remind you,” I tell her.

  “So? You think I haven’t seen inter-office relationships? The hotel I worked at before I came here, Moonwater Inn, I was shacking up with one of the cooks at the restaurant, meanwhile my friend ended up sleeping with the boss. It was all sorts of complicated like whoa but they’re married now with a kid, if that gives you hope. But believe me when I say I can see these things coming from a mile away.”

  “And so what do you see with me?” I ask her, point blank.

  She gives me a small, knowing smile. “I see you falling for his Big Dick Energy.”

  “Okay, so run that Big Dick Energy past me again. What is that?”

  “Well,” she says, leaning forward so her hair falls in front of her face. “BDE doesn’t just describe a man, nor does it describe sexuality or the size of your member. It’s about the powerful aura you give off. Me, for example, I give off BDE.”

  I can’t argue with her. I don’t really know the definition of the term yet, but it already makes sense.

  “Cate Blanchett also gives off Big Dick Energy, as does Sam Rockwell. You get my drift?”

  “You’re just listing off people you want to bone. Including yourself.”

  “Well it’s impossible not to want to bone people with BDE. You have BDE and you know I think you’re hot stuff, hot stuff.”

  “And I guess Kessler has it too?”

  “Oh yeah,” she says with a wide grin. “He’s just brimming with BDE. It helps that I know he has a real big dick to begin with. He walks into a room and everyone turns around to stare. It’s not just that he’s a massive burly handsome fuck, but that he knows what he wants in life and is going for it and it’s exuding from every pore in his body.”

  I’m not going to argue with her over that either. Kessler does have BDE, whether it comes from his sense of self or his actual big dick. But with that explanation, I’m starting to think I don’t have it.

  I thought I knew what I wanted in life.

  I’m not sure what I want anymore.

  You know, a voice whispers in my head. You know what you want, what you need.

  “Shut up,” I mutter.

  “Are you talking to me or yourself?” Kate asks.

  “Myself,” I say, before busying myself with the drink. Damn these coconuts go down fast.

  “Did something happen with you and Kessler?” she asks after a moment.

  I should just ignore it and laugh and say “no way” but something inside me, probably the lime or the rum in the coconut, has the truth spilling from my lips.

  “Not really,” I tell her. “Okay, I have a bit of a problem.”

  “I knew it,” she says with conviction, practically pounding her fist on the table. “Tell Kate everything.”

  I’m not going to tell her everything, but I do say, “There’s something you didn’t know about us. And by us, I mean back in the day. We, uh, well we slept together for a few months, like I’d said, and then he broke it off because he couldn’t commit.” I pause and she gestures for me to go on, looking bored because she already knows all of this. “And the truth was, I was in love with him.”

  She stares at me for a moment before slowly stirring her drink. “And?”

  “And…he broke my heart. My boss is the man who broke my heart. He’s my level-ten heartbreaker.”

  “So?”

  “So?! You ever had your heart broken?”

  “Yeah.”

  “On a level-ten scale?”

  “Yeah and it sucked. But I mean this is pretty obvious, Nova. You moved all the way here after you guys broke up, and ever since I’ve known you, you’ve dated a lot of guys but never committed to one. I’ve been in your shoes, I know what it’s like. You’re trying to forget and he did a number on you and sometimes there are people in your life that affect you more than you think they should. They take up more space in your heart than you originally made room for them, like when a goldfish outgrows its tank.”

  I stab my pineapple with the straw. “You come up with surprising analogies sometimes.”

  “It’s true,” she says. “So you were in love with him and you had your heart broken. So what? We all get our hearts broken if we’re lucky enough.”

  I shake my head vehemently. “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

  “But what’s the alternative?”

  “The alternative is that you end up loving someone who loves you and you live happily ever after.”

  “That will happen, just chill about it. The alternative you should fear is the one where you never get your heart broken because you never fall in love. That’s sad.”

  “That’s smart.”

  “No, it’s sad. How can you say you’ve had the human experience unless you’ve fallen in love? And part of falling in love means that you’re likely to get hurt. To suffer over a broken heart is…well, that’s what helps to build Big Dick Energy. You think Cate Blanchett hasn’t cried over someone before? She has. She’s taken that and let it fuel her.”

  I don’t even know what this Kate is talking about now. “All I know is that I fell in love against my will.”

  “Right, and you fought against it and it still happened and you still got hurt. So fuck all that. It’s not smart to avoid the inevitable. Just open your arms and let it in. Believe me, it’s much better when you’re not fighting it. It makes the highs that much sweeter.”

  “I’m not in love with Kessler,” I tell her.

  “I never said you are. But you were, and it’s not a big deal and nothing to be ashamed about. Just accept it happened and move on.”

  “It’s kind of hard to move on when I work with him.”

  “Right, but moving on doesn’t mean you’re closed off to him. Moving on just
means you’re both moving on from the people you were. It doesn’t mean you’re moving on from him.”

  She’s making sense. I don’t need to move on from Kessler necessarily, but I do need to move on from the people we once were and the relationship we once had with each other. That needs to be put to bed, or it’s going to haunt me and mess up any good thing that might come from this.

  But I’m getting ahead of myself. He kissed me and it’s like the stitches unraveled and my heart cracked back open. Just an inch but an inch is enough. I’m vulnerable again in more ways than one. I need to move on from the people we were but that doesn’t mean I need to move on with him in the picture.

  Dear lord, how am I going to survive these three months?

  Drinking. I’ll do it by drinking.

  “I need another coconut,” I tell Kate.

  She purses her lips together as she observes me. Then she nods in approval and orders us another round. “This means I’m not driving you home anymore.”

  “I’ll get an Uber.”

  “Kessler could pick you up.”

  “I’ll get an Uber,” I repeat.

  “Fine, but if you get an Uber driver named Harold with a 4.8 rating and a white Prius, you should totally unload on him. He gives great advice.”

  I’m momentarily offended that Kate unloads her problems on an Uber driver instead of me, but it only makes me realize that maybe Kessler isn’t the only person I’m not open enough with.

  Things need to change.

  But as the evening goes on and the drinks keep coming and the sun goes down, Kate and I decide to bar hop. We walk down Waikiki, flirting with surfer boys and chugging back piña coladas and mai tais, but the only thing that changes is that I get increasingly drunker—to the point where my memories all start to blur even as I’m living them.

  “Where are we now?” I ask Kate. It’s dark. I’m sitting on the beach, sand up my ass, leaning back against a coconut palm.

  “We’re getting you a ride home,” she says from above me.

  I glance up but only see her silhouette beneath the palm tree, so I go back to closing my eyes. “Do you think it’s dangerous to sit underneath a coconut tree? Do you think maybe our hotels should give guests helmets to wear?”

  “What are you talking about?” she says. “Nova, these better be drunk ideas and not actual ideas.”

  “Coconut helmets,” I go on. She doesn’t get it. I am a genius ahead of my time. “Because it’s dangerous. They could crack your head open. I could die, just sitting here.” I mimic a coconut coming off the tree and hitting me on the head. “Just like that. Splat. We need to take care of our guests, Kate. We could make the helmet in the shape of a pineapple.”

  “Actually I think a coconut would be more appropriate.”

  “Oh my god, you’re right,” I slur.

  “Okay,” she says cheerfully, and I hear her clap her hands. “Your ride is here.”

  “My ride? We were talking about coconut helmets. Oh, oh, how about coconut bike helmets so you can ride a bike and also protect your noggin from coconuts. They’re not only a problem for pedestrians.”

  “Nova?”

  I freeze. Kessler’s familiar sexy voice has infiltrated my thoughts.

  I open one eye to see him standing beside Kate and peering down at me. “How are ya?” he asks.

  I frown. “Why are you here? You’re going to steal my coconut idea like you did with the cucumber water!”

  “You got her pretty drunk, Kate,” Kessler says to her.

  “I did no such thing,” scoffs Kate.

  “Where is my Uber?” I cry out. “Why did you call Kessler? He’s a jerk. A Big Dick Energy jerk.”

  “What about my big dick?”

  “She wants to take a ride, me thinks,” Kate says.

  “Kate you whore, you’re a liar!” I yell up at her.

  “Hey, I meant a ride in his car. By the way, I just saved your ass by getting your boss man here to pick you up. I wouldn’t send you in any Uber in this state, other than Harold, whom I do think you need to talk to.”

  “Who is Harold?” Kessler asks, and is it my imagination or is there an edge to his voice?

  Jealous?

  “Harold is my favorite Uber driver,” Kate explains. “I told Nova she could unload all her problems on him.”

  “What problems?” Kessler asks, and I can tell he’s asking me.

  I clamp my lips together. No problems. Not anymore, now that I have my brilliant coconut helmet idea.

  “I think she’s all torn up and twisted because of you,” Kate says.

  “Kate shut your face!” I yell, attempting to get to my feet. The sand is a liar, it’s not a stable surface at all and I start pitching to the left.

  Kessler reaches out with his Big Dick Energy arms and catches me. “I have you all torn up and twisted, Supernova?” he asks, and I can tell from the tone of his voice that he is just loving this. God, his ego is insatiable.

  “Let me go,” I sneer at him.

  “As much as I would love to see you faceplant in the sand, I’d hate to make your problems any worse than I already have.”

  “You can handle her?” Kate asks.

  “Oh,” he says, pulling me close to him and all I smell is his sweat and his pine-scented deodorant and my eyes are closing. The last thing I hear before I pass out is, “I can handle her.”

  KILL ME.

  Kill me now.

  There is sunlight streaming through my window, making my face hot. I’m dripping in a big bowl of sweat. I can hear roosters crowing incessantly in the distance. My stomach contents are fighting their way up my throat. My head is pulsing so fast and hard it’s like road construction inside my skull.

  I am hungover as fuck.

  And right now, it’s all that I am, all that matters, all that exists.

  There is no escape, there is only pain, there is…

  Wait a minute.

  I am in my bed, right?

  I slowly, painfully, pry open one eye and glance around.

  It’s my room all right, but something is different.

  For one, the AC isn’t running and I normally turn it on at night, but then again I can’t remember much of last night other than Kessler picking me up from Waikiki Beach and then I was stumbling through the house, stepping on Hunter’s toys, and then I was on my knees in the bathroom, hurling my guts out while Kessler held back my hair and Loan made some kind of ancient tea she said was good for detoxing.

  Then that was it.

  Now I’m here, in bed.

  But Kessler never turned on the AC.

  Which also explains why the window is open.

  Which also explains why I can hear the neighborhood feral chickens.

  Which…doesn’t explain why the sun is on my face.

  It’s a Thursday.

  I get up at seven a.m. to get ready for work.

  The sun doesn’t get over those mountains and into my window at that time.

  Which means…

  I quickly sit up, my head backhanded with a headache, and wince as I pick up my phone.

  It’s eleven a.m.!

  Oh my god, I slept in.

  I slept way in.

  Why the fuck didn’t Kessler wake me up?

  “Aaaaaurgh,” I cry out and then notice that there’s a giant bottle of water on my bedside table, plus Advil, plus a note that says:

  Didn’t want to wake you. Take two of these and call me in the morning,

  Your sweat monster, Kess.

  For a second I’m touched by the gesture and butterflies start to fly in my stomach over the fact that he took care of me and called himself my sweat monster. But then those butterflies wither and die when I realize he’s at work right now, at the meeting with George and Andy, and I’m not.

  That asshole did this on purpose!

  He wanted me to sleep in so I could miss work so he could go in and tell them that Nova was too hungover to make it but don’t worry, he’s the bo
ss and he can handle it and gee she’s not all that dependable anyway. This is sabotage! This isn’t him pretending to be caring and kind, this is personal.

  I immediately dial his number. I don’t have time to angry text him, I’ll probably fill it all up with dumb typos and I can’t have him own me in grammar either.

  But there’s no answer. Of course there’s no answer, he’s probably in that meeting right now.

  I get up. I am a ball of rage. I am a ball of rage who barely makes it across her room without doubling over because oh my god, I’m going to be sick. This is why I need to stay away from Waikiki Beach. I’m not twenty-one and on vacation. I’m thirty, and for every step forward I seem to take toward my career, it feels like I’m taking two steps back.

  And all of those steps have me always crashing into Kessler.

  I manage to make my way to the washroom without throwing up and, after I’ve washed my face a million times, my skin ashen, my dark circles looking like I’ve smeared coal under my eyes, I make my way downstairs. Thank god I’m in a baggy t-shirt and shorts. I have a feeling Kessler must have helped me undress last night and at least he didn’t stick me in my tiny camisole and a thong.

  “There you are,” Loan says from the kitchen where she’s slicing up a sandwich. She nods to a pot on the stove. “I was going to bring you soup.”

  I lean against the doorway and breathe in deep. It smells like ginger and chicken and lemongrass and it immediately calms me.

  “You don’t look so good,” Loan says to me. “Here, sit down. Hunter!” she calls out. “Lunch is ready.”

  Hunter appears from the living room where I realize he’s been watching Moana. It’s pretty much been on repeat since he’s got here.

  “I want a Hei Hei,” he says, gesturing to the chicken on the screen as Loan helps him up into his chair.

  “I wouldn’t ask your father for one,” I say under my breath.

  “You already have a Hei Hei,” Loan says.

  “I want that one,” he says. “And I want to go see Maui at the beach. I want to put on baby soup.”

  I glance at Loan, brows raised. Baby soup?

  “What are you talking about, Hunter?” Loan asks. “Do you want some soup?”