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I force a smile to reassure him, but I am interrupted by another voice.
“Luke, what are you up to? I need you here.”
I freeze, downright refusing to turn around, if only to postpone the inevitable. I recognize that voice. Oh, I recognize it well. There’s no place to hide. I can’t run. I can’t pretend I don’t know him or notice him. Not with Luke here.
So I close my eyes, preparing for the inevitable.
“Chris, you won't believe who your neighbor is,” I hear Luke say, and the sound of approaching footsteps increases my heart rate.
“Who?” that voice replies.
The familiar scent of Bergamot and Cedarwood infiltrates the air.
I open my eyes, and all my fears are confirmed. Before me stands the man I loathe, Chris White.
He still looks the same, just more mature in his looks. He always looked good. Even when we were lounging around in his house back in Georgia in casual clothes, he somehow managed to pull off an effortless classiness that I always envied.
But now, his silk shirt is buttoned up, hiding his abs, which made my mouth water. Soft black hair cascades down his forehead, styled into utter perfection. A chiseled jaw, high cheekbones and dewy skin, somehow contrasting with the harsh, almost disinterested, look in his eyes and the downward pull of his mouth.
My stomach lurches, but I'm not sure if it's because of my hate for him or a reaction to this godlike creature in front of me. There are alarms going off left and right inside of my mind at the same time, telling me to run. Run like I had done eight years ago on the day that Chris turned me down pathetically. But I can’t, not anymore.
His eyes meet mine and they widen ever so slightly. Then the corner of his mouth quirks up and he stretches forth his hand. “Hi, I'm Chris. Your new neighbor.”
I stare blankly at his outstretched hand.
Luke slaps his arm and chuckles. “Don't you recognize Gianna? Gianna, your sister's soulmate?”
I see the recognition slowly fill his green eyes, and he smirked. I bite back a snort. Of course, he wouldn't recognize me immediately. I was too insignificant for him then, and I still am now.
“Gianna,” his deep baritone voice repeats.
It's been so long since I've heard his voice or heard him say my name. My stomach feels a little funny, and my head is swimming. I need something to calm the beating of my heart. This is not how I envisioned my evening.
“Nala mentioned that you live in Malibu, but I never thought I would get to see you or end up being your neighbor,” Chris offered.
A sharp indignation shot through me. I scoff, and he raises his eyebrow at my reaction. “How unfortunate that we met like this or even had to meet at all. I will get out of your hair now.”
He frowns, looking confused. I look at Luke, whose mouth is slightly open and in shock.
“I have to go. It was nice seeing you, Luke.” I walk away as fast as I can, ignoring my racing heart. I hastily open my door and close it with my back resting against it. I perform a breathing exercise to calm my racing heart.
Chris is my neighbor? It seems so ridiculous but it’s my new reality. The reality I have to live with from now on. The reality that I will be seeing the man who cruelly rejected me years ago everyday.
I sink to the floor as the memory of that day eight years ago brushes through my mind.
* * *
“Nala, I can't find my diary,” I complain, almost on the brink of tears as I rummage through her drawer. I have already checked her room and the kitchen, which are the places I frequent the most.
I had forgotten my diary at her house yesterday, and it was too late to come back. Maybe if I had gone back, I would have found it.
“Maybe you forgot it at home and thought you misplaced it here,” Nala says, not looking up from where she is lying watching a cartoon.
“No, I'm so sure that I left it here.”
She doesn't say anything after that, too engrossed in her cartoon to be bothered.
I step out, my heart feeling heavy. That diary is more like my life. It was given to me by my grandmother before she passed. Since then, I have made it my personal confession book. Writing down feelings I have that I don't understand. The thought of anyone finding out the contents of the book makes me anxious. Even Nala doesn't know what's in the diary.
