Page 7 of The Bleeding Hearts Club

We walk as a group through a copse of palm trees and bushes onto a large patio. Chairs are lined in rows, a bar sits to the right serving a few patrons sitting on stools. A man stands by the main entrance in a dark dress shirt and pants. He nods to the woman, Amara, as he pulls the door wide. He smiles at each of us as we pass.

The lobby of the resort continues the trend of grandeur. I really should not be here. I look ridiculous in an old band t-shirt and jean shorts.

Then again, I did have to change after the coffee incident, but the outfit I wore before wouldn’t be much better. It was a black, two-piece lounge set that I paired with a lacy shawl.

The people here are all wearing tight, cocktail-style dresses, khakis, and nice dress shirts. Or, in Theo’s case, some form of outlandish tropical patterns.

Was I supposed to wear something else?

I didn’t even pack but one nice dress.

I gnaw on the inside of my lip as I think through the wardrobe I brought with me, trying, and failing, to come up with some semblance of formal wear, but nothing. I mean, maybe the black jeans…I could wear those for like two days. I didn’t even bring heels, just sandals.

My sigh must have been a little louder than anticipated because Theo turns to me with furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong? You look upset?”

“I-…Was there a dress code that I wasn’t aware of?” I look around nervously.

He notices immediately what I’m thinking about. He looks skeptically around at the others around us. A woman, maybe mid-thirties, with dark curly hair in a pencil skirt and blouse, the top buttons undone, eyes a group of guys in the corner by the elevators pushing and laughing with each other in their polos and gray slacks.

“Uh, no. I don’t think there was a dress code. Don’t sweat it. You look perfect, Mina. You look like,” he pauses, tilting his head, “you look like yourself. Is that not the best way to go about this thing? Being yourself?”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. In everyday life I do dress like this, at least not when I’m working at the Medical Examiner’s Office. But I still had clothes that were me for things like that.

“Well, yeah. I guess so. I just don’t want to leave a bad impression. I could have brought nicer things. Not this damn shirt I’ve had since high school.” I cross my arms looking down.

Theo reaches out, grasping my hand to unfold them. He looks intently at my shirt before cracking a smile.

“Blink-182?”

I arch my brow. “Yes?”

“I saw them in concert. I think it was 2016? It was a music festival.” He smiles at the memory, but I stare at him in confusion.

“Yeah. I did too. That’s strange. What are the odds of that?”

“I’d say the same as the odds of us both meeting in Charleston, having separate flights to D.C. and still ending up on the same one to Miami, just to find out we’re both coming to the same private island resort.”

I burst out laughing.

“Yeah, okay. Touché.”

“Mina Hawthorne,” a man shouted over the crowd.

“I’ll, uh, see you around, Theo.” I wave as I walk to the man holding out my room key. I thanked him and moved to the elevator.

The doors open as a group of us walk in. From the far side of the room, Theo watches. His face is blank, but as the doors slowly shut, I watch as his shoulders slump, and he does a small wave back.

I hope he has some luck this week. He’s annoying. Way too fucking chipper.

He deserves something good. Someone good.

I won’t admit it, but a part of me kind of wishes it was me. To have someone want me. Wishful thinking gets you nowhere though.

I’m not good. And he would just leave too. They all do in the end.

Chapter 4