The short drive home was quiet. I didn’t turn the radio on. Music wasn’t going to cut it when I had so many thoughts swirling around my head. I turned onto Evergreen Grove, sneaking a peek at the little brown house at the end of the road. The sparkling, midnight blue bike sat in his garage, silent. I slowed to a crawl to watch as Zach pulled a cover over it. Like he could sense my presence, his head rotated to look at me. With nothing more than a smile and a wave, he returned to his task.
Yes, that was exactly what we promised: a smile and a wave. That’s what you did in these places, right? It was safer that way. Smile, wave, and you don’t ask questions about what your neighbor does in their free time. Even if they are hot and tattooed and drive a motorcycle…
I pulled into my own driveway. The same driveway where, only a few weeks ago, I tossed my ex-boyfriend to the curb. I’d been picking up extra shifts at the hospital, desperately trying to avoid home, to avoid being alone where the thoughts crept into my head. I couldn’t pick up and move every time a man wronged me.
Strangely enough, I didn’t feel any of that anymore. The only thing I felt was exhaustion. Inside, I went straight for the shower instead of a bath. As I stood under the spray, I closed my eyes and imagined what it would feel like to belong to Zach. I hadn’t felt safe in quite some time, and imagining his arms around me? “Secure” was the word that came to mind. The thought warmed me as much as the water, and I found myself craving his touch.
Fuck, I was screwed.
Weeks passed by in a blur, and those turned into months. True to his word, Zach didn’t press me to get together again. If he saw me, he would smile and wave, then be on his way.
For my part, I totally didn’t watch him out of my front window, and I definitely didn’t see how good he was with Penelope.
I had sworn off dating.
But when it was late at night and I was alone in bed, staring at the ceiling because I couldn’t fall asleep, I began to wonder who some… company would really hurt. Technically, sex wasn’tdating, right?
I would lie there and contemplate it until my alarm infuriatingly shrieked in my ear, and another sleepless night had passed.
As time crawled by, I started to notice odd things happening around my house. They started innocently enough: after one long shift, I came home to find my mail had been delivered beneath the door. After I’d been on call for four days in a row, my lawn was mysteriously mowed. Slowly, these acts turned into gifts; a double espresso left on my doorstep, still hot. Coffee became flowers—different ones for a time, until it finally settled on marigolds.
I loved marigolds.
I made a point of displaying that particular bouquet on my front porch, where they’d get plenty of daylight. And it never failed that after returning from one of my shifts, they’d have been watered, or placed under shelter if it was raining or cold.
One particularly bitter, dreary morning, I had an extra rough shift. I’d lost several patients throughout my years in school, but this one hit particularly hard. There was little we could do, but we still worked on the poor boy for hours, long after all of us knew we should have declared it.Finally, we had no choice. Statements had to be given, the police were called, and reports had to be filed. The legal department from the hospital got involved, and… ugh. I didn’t want to think about it.
I trudged up to my front door, noticing the bouquet of marigolds had been moved under a table and guarded with plastic to shield them from the torrential rain.
Grabbing the flowerpot from its hideaway, I unlocked my front door and stepped inside my familiar, dark house. Sighing, I flipped the living room lights and placed my phone on the wireless charger I kept by the front door. With long, unpredictable shifts, I’d learned to keep a charger nearby.
I’d showered at the hospital, desperate to get clean after the traumatic event. I still went to my bedroom and changed into a pair of sweats. I made a brief detour to the kitchen, grabbing an apple to snack on while I waited for my dinner to be delivered.
My phone, having charged long enough to turn itself back on, buzzed on the table. I was ready to ignore the outside world for a few hours, but the email on top caught my attention.
Sadie’s Strangers Thank-you Gift.
While that day was seared in my memory, I’d all but forgotten about the photoshoot itself. I was pretty certain that Zach was the one leaving me gifts and managing my house, but we still hadn’t spoken to each other since.
Curious, I opened the email and scanned its contents. Sadie had sent a heartfelt message thanking both Zach and I for participating the session. Below that were two links: one to the five free photos I’d get to keep as compensation for participating, and a link where I could purchase the rest of the digital files. I dropped onto the couch and tapped the link for the entire shoot.
The photos started from the beginning, where my nerves were evident in my face. As I flipped through each one, I could pinpoint the exact moment Zach had whispered in my ear. My cheeks had gone pink and my eyes had dilated. From there, he’d slipped his hands beneath my shirt, and I had to admit we looked strikingly natural together.
By the time I reached the photos with us kissing, my snack lay forgotten. My heart was starting to race, and I could practically feel Zach’s touch again; the way his fingers danced across my skin, how his large hands felt on my hips. Like he could hold me together when I felt like falling to pieces. I remembered the smooth glide of his soft skin beneath my hands, and the silky strands of hair winding through my fingers.
My favorite picture, however, was one that Sadie had included in her top five. One that I would later be so thankful for, because it kicked my ass into gear.
In the photo, Zach had me backed against a tree, hands on my belt tugging me close. Our wet hair hung in strands, water dripping down to our shoulders. Our skin was sun-kissed, cheeks reddened.
I’d never seen myself smile like that. Ever.
I was out the door before I realized what I was doing. The rain had eased a bit but still fell hard enough to drench my hair in the time it took to sprint down the street to the little brown house on the corner. I raced up the drive and straight to the front door.
I knocked, hoping I wasn’t waking him up. I hadn’t even checked the time.
I practically bounced on my toes. I stifled a laugh as clumsy noises and muttered curses sounded from inside.
The door swung open, and my stomach leapt into my throat. Zach was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweats. His black hair was wild, standing up in all directions. He was still half asleep, rubbing his eyes to clear them and blinking at the daylight. He yawned, giving me a moment to appreciate his tattoos. I followed the tiger’s tail to where it disappeared into the waistband of his sweats. Meeting his eyes again, I nearly apologized for waking him up, but he gave that lopsided grin and stepped aside.
