It was silly, really.
I knew the Angel Boyzz had aged right along with me, and it had been a long damn time since I was sixteen. Back then, I’d have been able to tell you their birthdays, favorite colors, and shoe sizes. Every teenage girl in the world had all that information memorized, myself included. Their glowing, flawless faces smiled and winked at me from my locker, from the posters on my bedroom wall, and sang me to sleep as I played their songs over and over (and over.)
That was a long time ago, a different lifetime. I’d had my heart broken and mended so many times since then, I couldn’t even tell the scars apart anymore. This latest scar was fresh enough though. Jeff had unceremoniously dumped me six months before our fourth wedding anniversary, and the sting hadn’t quite faded away.
Things used to be so much simpler, didn’t they?
A crush on a boy band was safe, fodder for so many innocent fantasies. They were just there, singing their hearts out to you, not fucking your best friend while you were away on a business trip.
So when the DJ on the radio said they were giving away VIP tickets to an Angel Boyzz Reunion Cruise, I felt weirdly compelled to dial the number. My hands shook as I punched in the number, an icy trickle of sweat inched down my back. When the DJ said “Kerry, you are the fifteenth caller, YOU WIN!” I shrieked into the phone and jumped up and down like I hadn’t done for years. It felt good to be excited like that again, that jolt of pure unbridled joy. Continue reading