I place her down on her front step. The smoke has cleared up from her cabin, even if the smell hasn’t. The temperature has dropped, making it perfect for her to leave windows open, which should help with the smell.
“You should leave the windows open.”
“Yeah, I was thinking that. The smell will stay if not. Old wood and all.”
“Mm-hmm.”
She holds the door open, her blonde hair spilling over my shirt, making my body react in ways I haven’t allowed it to in a while.
“Thanks for tonight.” She lets out a giggle. “And last night, for that matter. Let’s hope this isn’t a recurring thing between us.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Thanks.” Her soft smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Even though I haven’t known her for long, it’s clear that, underneath all the light she’s shown me in a few interactions, she’s hiding some hurt.
“See you around?” she asks as I’m turning on my heels to get back to my cabin.
“I’m sure we will,” I reply and head back to my place. A place that didn’t feel empty before, but now, without her here, only the wet towel left behind on the floor, it feels like the party’s over, and I’m all alone again.
5WAKEY WAKEY
Riley
I don’t even needan alarm, and I’m up. It’s always been this way, and today’s no different. The endless possibilities of all the things I can do in a day wire me up early enough to get the jump-start on my day I need. Today, it’s four in the morning. The impossibly vast night sky paints the landscape outside my window, an owl’s hoots playing the most calming serenade.
“Good morning, world,” I whisper, jolting up from bed. “Ouch!” My foot. I look down, and memories from last night invade me as I look at the now-dry toothpaste on my foot. The pot pie burning, the smoke, the fire alarm, my hand, my foot, Dom, me naked, Dom again, my God, what a night.
I’m still wearing his clothes. As comfortable as they are, I should take them off, wash them, and return them. But I would be lying to myself if I didn’t like how much cozier and deeper I slept wrapped in the extra fabric, withhismusky, citrus, leather scent, even if it’s nothing like me or home. They felt different in the best way.
The house doesn’t smell like burnt charcoal anymore, thanksto the open windows. I press play on my Wakey Wakey playlist and get going with my morning routine: shower, brush teeth, and hair—a braid, since I’m going to be working on the shed and cleaning this place almost all day. A matching outfit—terracotta with polka dots today—and coffee brewing for the perfect day. I need to go to the main house to get breakfast, but first, I play my favorite game: how much can I do in twenty-minute sprints? It’s a strategy I learned when barrel racing: you can do anything in twenty minutes, my trainer would say. Turns out, I can do a lot.
Twenty minutes on the timer, aaaand go!
I miss racing every day, but after my parents’ deaths, it didn’t feel the same. Even if the lessons learned stay with me forever, I know it wouldn’t be the same.
I clean, meticulously and methodically, the way I had to train myself to do it until it became second nature. For someone as messy as I am, I sure as hell am good at cleaning. I can’t stop from thinking about what comes next, racing forward to whatever I can get done next, never focusing too much on the present, making each task a part of a never-ending checklist guiding my life.
My bedroom is done, with the sheets stripped and ready to be tossed in the washer. I can’t wait to sleep in clean sheets tonight. I have a couple of minutes left on the timer, enough time to take the painting supplies to the upstairs room, the one that will hopefully turn into my relief room, a place I can go when I need to breathe easier. It’s the best place to paint and be myself, if you ask me—away from everyone else. I drop the tote with the paint and materials and rush downstairs, shouting ‘Walking On Sunshine’ at the top of my lungs, and time’s up.
“Perfect!” I smile to myself. “Good job, Riles. We did it. Now, breakfast.” I place my AirPods in my ears, ready to continue my playlist on the way to the main house. It’s the perfect distance to run this morning too, and I’m ready. As soon as I step outside, I jolt in surprise.
“Jesus!” Dom is standing on my porch, back to the wall, a leg crossed in front of the other, a coffee mug in hand. Damn it, I forgot my coffee. “Good morning, Dominic.Is Dom short for Dominic? Is that your name? Hi, good morning. Good to see you alive and awake, even if not enthusiastic.”
“Do you know how peaceful it is out here usually?” he asks. I wish I could see his eyes, but with only the moon shining above us and his cowboy hat on, it’s impossible.
“Mmm, yes? I do. It’s beautiful.” I spin, my arms open, palm facing up. “Peaceful. Stunning. Right?”
He nods, setting his mug down on the porch rail. “You know what’s not peaceful?”
I eye him in confusion.
“Being woken up twice in a row before my alarm, Taylor Swift blasting through the speakers.”
I gasp. “That was not Taylor, sir. While I love her, I don’t have any of her songs in my wakey wakey playlist.”
He grunts. Okaaay, so we’renota morning person.
“You would think a cowboy would be a morning person. My bad.”
