The elevator stopped on the eighth floor and I ran out.
I searched the room numbers. I pounded on room 852’s door. “Branch, let me in! Branch!”
I didn’t care if I looked like a crazy ex-girlfriend. This was possibly the most horrible day I had ever experienced, and Branch had compounded all of it by stealing my hotel room.
The door flew open, but instead of my handsome ex, I stood eye to eye with a petite brunette wearing a hot pink bikini and holding a beer in her hand.
“Who are you?” I barged past her, not all that interested in her answer.
“Branch?” she called out frantically. “Branch, there’s a crazy person in our room.”
“Me? I’m not the crazy one.” I spun on my heels to face her. “You are in my hotel room with my—” I stopped short of saying boyfriend. This must be what people meant by an out of body experience. My words were soft and calm, but inside, I was losing it.
Branch emerged from the bathroom with a towel draped around his waist. Little beads of water trickled over his smooth chest.
“Kaitlyn, what are you doing here? And what happened to your hair? Have you been drinking?” He eyed me suspiciously while reaching for the beer from the girl. He chugged a few swallows before passing it back to her.
“Why does everyone keep acting like I’m not supposed to be here? I paid for this trip. You know that.” My fists dug into the sides of my hips to keep from slugging him. “Is this your definition of keeping your options open?” I nodded toward the girl who had taken a seat at the edge of the king-size bed.
“You’re obviously upset. I think you should go.” Branch placed his hand on my shoulder. The gesture irritated me.
“I’m not leaving. This is my room. If anyone should leave, it should be you. And you.” I glared at the girl. “I can’t believe you would do something like this.”
Seeing Branch half-dressed and smugly tossing out orders disgusted me. I didn’t know when he had transformed into this pompous ass, but I was actually glad I couldn’t be tied to him anymore. He was right—we had grown apart. However, he was the one who had grown into a royal dick.
Branch launched into one of his smooth explanations. “Look, I paid for the room—it’s not in your name anymore. I tried to call you a few times, but you didn’t pick up. I’m sorry there was a mix-up, but I think we both know what this is really about.” His forehead creased. “You’re taking this breakup hard. It’s understandable you’d be upset, but don’t make a scene. You know I hate girl drama.”
That was it. The words were like the cue I had been waiting to hear. My fist flew up from the side of my hip and caught him under the chin. He reeled back into the arms of the girl.
“What the hell, Kaitlyn?” He massaged his chin.
“Oh my God, Branch. Are you ok?” The bikini girl leaned over to look at his chin. The way she touched him, I knew they weren’t new acquaintances.
I exhaled. I couldn’t decide what I hated more: Branch or people saying “girl drama.” I had never punched anyone in my life, but I felt so much better.
“Bye, Branch. Enjoy your vacation.” I swung the door open and slammed it behind me with as much force as I could muster.
I didn’t know where I was going to find a place to stay for the week, but anywhere far from Branch was fine with me.
By the time I returned to the lobby, the line of guests checking in had dispersed. The nice girl at the counter smiled when she spotted me.
“No luck?” she asked.
“Not exactly. Ex-boyfriend disaster.” I sighed. “I know this is kind of a strange question to ask you, but could you recommend another hotel? I’m homeless and luggage-less.” I laughed. The whole scenario was absurd.
“Oh my God, that’s terrible. Everywhere is going to be booked up. This is one of the craziest months of the year on the island.” She pulled out her phone. “But I might know
somewhere that isn’t booked—it’s not great, but at least you might have somewhere to stay.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate anything right now. I haven’t had dinner, or lunch, and I think I’m actually delirious.” That was going to be my excuse for punching Branch, even though he completely deserved it. He was the asshole.
“Ok, my friend just texted me and said the Dune Scape is open and has vacancies.” She reached for a sticky note.
“Dune Scape?” It sounded like something out of a 1950s beach movie.
“It’s a motel, but there are open rooms. Here’s the address.” She handed me a Post-it with an address and a phone number. “I’m Sasha, by the way. If you need anything else, I put my number at the bottom too. Just text me. If any open rooms turn up here, I’ll let you know—just give me your cell.”
“Thank you. This is the nicest thing anyone has done for me all day.” I jotted my digits down for her.