My name is Gia Florence. I'm twenty-three years old and, for the time being, I live with my family in a sprawling mansion in Brooklyn, New York. I work as an accountant at my father’s company. It's been a year since I started, and I'm grateful for the opportunity. My father owns a renowned hotel chain – a fact that makes our family, undeniably, wealthy. However, I’ve never placed much value in status. We are all, at the core, simply human beings.
I am the youngest of five siblings. My oldest brother, Jack Florence, is twenty-nine. He’s the brother I’ve always confided in, the one who understands me best. He *loves* me, and that’s the most important thing. He’s always there to listen when I’m upset. Jack married his sweetheart two years ago, and they now have an eight-month-old son—my nephew. I envy their strong connection; my own romantic life feels…complicated.
My other brother, Niall Florence, is twenty-seven. I love him dearly, but he has a knack for irritating me. He still behaves like a child, and it’s frustrating. He’s engaged, soon to be married. His fiancé is stunning, and sometimes I feel a flicker of insecurity when I’m with her, though I quickly dismiss it. Everyone possesses their own unique beauty.
Then there are my twin brothers, Brandon and Grayson Florence. Having twin brothers isn’t always easy; they love teasing me, orchestrating pranks like Niall. They’re a unit, always devising ways to disrupt my peace. Brandon and Grayson are twenty-six, and both remain single. If anyone is curious, I'm happy to share their contact information...just kidding. I'm tired of fielding questions from hopeful women.
And then there's me. I’m content living with my family, even though Jack has moved out with his wife and child. That leaves me, my three irritating brothers, and our wonderful parents in this large house. I’m five foot six, the same height as my mother. She’s approaching her fifty-fourth birthday, but still looks like she's in her early forties. She’s radiant and youthful—no wonder my father adores her. I inherited my mother’s blonde hair, while my eyes are blue with a hint of green. People often tell me they’re beautiful, and I admit I appreciate the compliment.
My best friend, Laura Harte, has been my confidante since we were infants. Our parents are close friends as well. We live just ten minutes apart. Laura is five foot five, slightly shorter than me, but that doesn’t matter. She has blonde hair. People say a brunette needs a blonde best friend, and here we are. She’s tanned from her love of the beach, while my skin is pale.
Laura has a long-distance boyfriend she's been with for two years. She constantly encourages me to find someone similar. I *want* a boyfriend, but my relationships never seem to last. I’ve dated almost ten men, and each time I’m left heartbroken. It’s frustrating. I hope my ninth boyfriend will be the one, that we’ll finally achieve the happy ending I crave.
Let me tell you about my first boyfriend. At sixteen, I was head-over-heels. It was my first relationship, and I was convinced we’d be the “couple of the year.” His name was Ken Simon. The first two weeks were wonderful. Then, in the third week, I found his phone in my bag. He accused me of being a stalker, which was ridiculous. We broke up.
My second boyfriend came during my senior year. I hoped my senior year would be memorable, but it wasn’t. His name was Mike Henderson, one of the popular boys. We dated for three months. The day before prom, he cheated on me. I couldn’t believe he’d do that. He said the other girl was “more attractive.” I had no comment. Laura and her date had a wonderful time at prom, while I was alone. It was an unforgettable year, though not in the way I’d hoped.
My third boyfriend lasted only two weeks before he informed me he was moving to another country. We could have tried long-distance, but he said it would be too difficult. So we broke up. He was a kind man with a charming face, but ultimately, I couldn’t change his decision.
The same year, I dumped my fourth boyfriend after three days because he was clingy and possessive. He wanted constant updates on my location, accused me of seeing other men when I simply replied to a text message a bit late. I’d had enough. I don’t regret it; I don’t need a boyfriend who assumes I’m cheating on him.
My fifth and sixth boyfriends were only interested in my money. I was naive enough to believe I was helping them, but I ended up heartbroken. I cried for months, enduring four breakups in one year.
I took a two-year break after that. When I was twenty-one, I started dating again, but got dumped twice. I cried again. My brother told me to get to know a guy before getting serious, but I didn’t listen and got hurt. Blind dates were a disaster; we just hooked up, then moved on.
This year is different. I’ve been dating Hayes Davies for five months, and I believe he’s the one. I’ve never been in a relationship this long. We met at a coffee shop during a downpour. He offered to share his umbrella—a cliché, I know. We kept bumping into each other at that coffee shop, and slowly, we became close.
That's me, Gia Florence, and my ongoing search for Prince Charming.