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Aiden
The blinding morning sun makes me squint, and I have a brief moment of forgetting where I am, but there’s only one place that would have the audacity to be this bright so early.
Fucking Florida.
I ended up falling asleep in the hammock on the balcony because the party wouldn’t end. Luckily, it was cool out, so I didn’t spend all night sweating my ass off. I need a shower, though, and I know it’s only a matter of minutes before it gets to be hotter than hell out here.
My phone nearly slips out of the hammock as I try to sit upright, but I manage to catch it.
Still no text from Claire.
I wish that wasn’t the first thing I noticed. There’s a text from Mike and one from Jasmine, both making sure I’m alive.
Well, Jasmine wants to make sure I’m alive. Mike just wants to make sure the state of Florida is still intact and that I haven’t Godzilla-ed the place yet—his words.
I shoot them both a quick response and groan as I get out of the hammock. There’s no graceful way to get out of a fucking hammock. I feel like a damn turtle stuck on its back, and I’m glad no one is awake this early to witness it. Once my feet are on solid ground, I stretch my arms overhead and stare out at the balcony view. Soft orange and yellow hues make everything look warmer. The only movement on the streets below comes from the early risers walking their dogs, riding bikes, and doing whatever else mentally stable people do this early. A few men walk toward the beach with buckets and fishing gear in hand, and I sort of envy them. Not the fishing part. I don’t give a fuck about fishing, but waking up early on a Saturday morning to go sit by the water with a fishing pole seems like something only happy people do. I can’t picture someone who hates the world packing up a tackle box and a cooler as they start their day.
Leaning my arms on the railing, I stay a little longer. Nothing is waiting for me in the Natty Shack. Chances are the guys aren’t even awake yet, and this view isn’t something to rush.
I wonder what view Claire is waking up to this morning.
Hopefully, it’s one like mine.
I think she’d enjoy it.
32
Claire
My toes sink into the sand with each step, and I love it. I’ve been out and about all day, alternating from enjoying the beach with a good book, to weaving in and out of all the little shops near the pier. The only negative to this trip so far has been having to buy everything. Coming to Florida empty-handed probably wasn’t the best idea. Today alone I’ve purchased sandals, a bathing suit, shorts and a t-shirt, a beach bag, sunglasses, sunblock, Maybe Someday by Colleen Hoover, coffee, a disappointing bagel and egg sandwich, and now I’m waiting at a food truck on the beach for a shrimp wrap.
That’s all I can think of right now. Point being, traveling unprepared is expensive.
But worth every penny.
“Claire!”
My head snaps up to see the man in the food truck smiling at me. Slipping on my sandals for the sake of having one less thing to hold, I pick up my order from the truck window and find a seat on a shaded bench. The sun shines through the tree branches overhead creating a dancing light show on my legs. I think it’s the little things like this that make Florida feel kind of magical. Could this happen to me in Central Park? Absolutely. But there’s something serene about the slower pace of a Florida beach.
Florida living is leisure living, and there’s nothing leisurely about New York City.
I’ve been leisure-living all day, though, and I’m starting to look for something more. Being alone can be a great way to recharge...but it can start to feel like you’re the only person in the world.
I’m getting to that point.
This morning I dreamt of loud party music, piercing blue eyes, and shouting again. Even when I’m awake, that night has crept into my thoughts more frequently lately. Seeing Aiden seems to have opened pandora’s box, and the memories I’ve tried hard to forget now demand my attention.
Speaking of Aiden, my phone still showed his contact info when I woke up. I guess I fell asleep staring at his name last night...which is weird. Something I’m glad he’ll never know.
Taking a bite of my wrap—which is delicious—I pull out my phone again and open my contacts. Scrolling down to the bottom of the alphabet, I pause at Violet’s name.
I should call her, and part of me wants to, but another part of me isn’t ready to divulge everything that’s happened. The thought of saying some of it out loud again is enough to make my stomach drop.
I quickly abandon the thought of calling her and scroll to the beginning of the alphabet instead. Aiden’s name sits at the top of the list, and my thumb hovers over it. I don’t know why I feel nervous to reach out to him. He’s the one who gave me his number in the first place, but my hands start to clam up as I type out a message.
33
Aiden
