PROLOGUE
662 Words
I should have known things were bad when I started having deep conversations with coconuts. Not actual words, of course, but there’s something about being stuck on a secluded island that makes a guy desperate for any sort of company—even if it’s a fruit.
I stood at the edge of the beach, staring out at the ocean like some sort of tragic movie hero. If only the tabloids could see me now. Jace Walker, lead vocalist of Reverie, barefoot in the sand, contemplating the meaning of life with not a single paparazzi in sight. Maybe I should start wearing a fedora hat and talk about "finding myself." I grinned at myself with that thought.
But honestly, I needed this. A place where no one knew who I was, where nobody gave a damn that I was supposedly a "cheating, heartless rock star." Spoiler alert: I wasn’t. But the truth doesn’t sell magazines, so here we are. Hollywood was a hurricane, and I just needed a moment to breathe. And where better to catch your breath than a tiny, out-of-the-way island in the Philippines where the Wi-Fi was basically a myth, and the most exciting thing to happen all day was finding a particularly round seashell?
I was about to head back to my villa when I noticed her—sitting at the edge of the water, feet dipped in the waves, like some kind of moody vacation postcard. Her hair was long and dark, and there was this whole “I’m emotionally distant, don’t talk to me” vibe radiating off her. Naturally, I was intrigued.
I should’ve just walked away—let her have her brooding moment—but I was too curious. Plus, it’s not like I had anything better to do. So, like the socially awkward genius I am, I plopped down a few feet away, silent, hoping maybe I’d look deep and mysterious too.
She didn’t look at me right away. In fact, she didn’t look at me at all. And I thought, "Alright, Jace, great start. You’re officially a weird guy sitting next to a stranger in silence."
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke, still staring out at the ocean. “This place… it’s like it knows you need to hide.”
Okay, points for dramatic delivery. "Yeah," I mumbled, trying to match her tone. “That’s why I came here.”
Then she turned to look at me, and let me tell you, those eyes were serious. Deep. The kind of eyes that made you feel like she knew exactly what kind of pathetic thoughts you were having.
“I’m Dixie,” she said, after a beat.
“Jace,” I replied, and for the first time in a long while, I didn’t follow it with my last name, or “lead singer of Reverie,” or “guy whose face is plastered on every gossip site right now.” Just Jace. That was nice.
We both sat there, letting the waves fill the silence. I figured she was one of those people who wasn’t in the mood for small talk, and honestly, neither was I. But something about her being here felt… familiar. Like I wasn’t the only person trying to get away from a mess.
"Are you here to escape something too?" I asked, risking sounding like a therapist.
She let out a short laugh, more of a sigh. "Yeah, something like that."
Ah, so we were two broken people on a tropical island. If this were a cheesy rom-com, we'd fall in love by sunset. But knowing my luck, I'd probably trip over a coconut on the way back to my villa.
Still, for the first time in what felt like ages, I didn’t feel like I had to perform, explain, or pretend. Sitting next to Dixie, staring at the ocean in silence, felt strangely... comfortable.
Maybe this whole island thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
- Writer
