Lindsey
Oh. My. God. Is he really my neighbor? He’s more mature, but still impossibly gorgeous—those piercing eyes and that gritty accent. I’d wasted a week obsessively watching him work while plotting to win his attention.
Does he remember me? Doubtful. He’s probably played out dozens of similar scenes, at dozens of resorts, with dozens of women. I meant less than nothing to him, but his orchestrated rejection left a lasting impact on my young heart.
It figures he caught me after my run, when I’m sweaty and disgusting. I already stick out here among the Amazon blondes. Still acting like a coward, too, ducking away from him as quickly as possible.
What were the odds I’d ever see him again, let alone end up his neighbor? A zillion to one! I should go purchase a lottery ticket, selecting the numbers of today’s date and my new address.
Unbelievable. I finally free myself from my gilded cage in New York only to end up next door to him. How will I enjoy this neighborhood if I’m always checking over my shoulder for his sneer? Worse, what if he remembers me? Won’t he have a good laugh?
I predicted he’d end up poor and alone. Instead, I’m alone, depressed, and living on my parents’ generosity. Shame pulses through me. Maybe a long shower will wash away my searing discomfort.
No such luck. My thoughts return to him. How’d he end up affording to live in Malibu? Did he actually go to school? More likely he robbed a bank or is house-sitting for someone. Oh, one can hope he’s just here temporarily.
Remembering our ancient conversation brings into sharp focus the dismal shape of my life. I’ve been parroting my parents’ opinions and beliefs as my own for so long, I’m hard-pressed to separate them from my own.
How haughty and condescending I was to lecture him, to purport to know anything about life. Now, years later, we end up at the same place despite vastly different paths and plans. For all I know, he’s better off than me.
He’s probably acquired a purpose. Maybe he even opted for a few of those anchors he’d sworn off. An unexpected curiosity seizes me as I envision his equally beautiful girlfriend—or wife! Wife.
I could be someone’s wife. My body slumps in response to visualizing Rob. Much as I hate to admit it, I miss him, or at least I miss the idea of us. I steady my bouncing knees. What am I doing here? What’s this hiatus going to accomplish? Were my parents right about my hasty decision?
Instinctively, I reach for my phone to call Jill. She’ll be awake now and walking to work.
“What’s up?” she answers.
“You will not believe it!” I hold my forehead in my palm.
“What?”
“Remember when I went to Sanibel for Christmas break our senior year?”
“Yes,” she answers.
“Remember the bartender I told you about and how he treated me?” Levi.
“Oh yeah, the super-hot one who seduced then rejected you?” She giggles.
“Not funny, by the way.” I sniff.
“Come on. Kinda funny now, right?”
“Not really, Jill, considering he lives next door to my rental!”
“No way!”
“Yes way,” I reply sullenly. “Can you believe it?”
“That’s incredible. How’d you recognize him?”
“Oh, his mesmerizing, evil image is forever etched in my mind. I’m pretty sure it’s him.” Privately, I surmise his face is etched in the memories of many women, for many different reasons.
“Did he recognize you?”
“I doubt it. We didn’t talk. He called hello from his porch when I returned from my morning run. I responded by bolting into my house.” Her laughter on the other end of the line makes my mouth twitch.
“Sorry. That sucks. But he probably won’t remember you, so act normal. You can do that, right? Act normal?”
Right? Her light, mocking tone coaxes a fleeting smile from me. Then heaviness settles back into my chest. “Jill, what am I even doing here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, why did I think coming back to Malibu would solve my problems? What am I doing?”
“Running away.”
“I’m serious.”
“Me too.”
“Is that what everyone thinks? I couldn’t handle the breakup, so I ran away to hide?” Jill’s hesitation gives me my answer.
“Who cares? Do whatever it takes to be happy.”
“So, that’s a yes, basically,” I say without enthusiasm.
“Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear, or speak the truth? But come on, you’ve only been in California one day and you’re already throwing in the towel. Explore the area. Give yourself time,” she encourages.