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I sigh. “I don’t think so, Derek. This was great, but I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“Ok, no relationship. How about a friendship, instead?”
“Are you seriously friend-zoning yourself?” I laugh.
Derek chuckles. ”Yeah, I guess I am. I have experience with that. You know… Layla. Nikki. I guess you could say that I make a great friend.” This makes me laugh.
“Ok, friends it is.” He hands me his number and tells me to text or call him anytime. I thank him for dinner, and get in my car to head home.
~***~
Derek
I feel like a stalker right now, but I follow Rylie home; just to make sure that she gets there ok. What are the chances that three years later, we both wind up in the same city? After that night at Layla’s baby shower, I found myself asking about her a lot. I only saw Rylie a handful of times after that night, and I figured it was too soon to make my move because of what had happened to her, so I waited. Mostly because I thought that I would have plenty of time to work on her. Well, that was until I found out that she was moving. Naturally, the night I was finally getting an ‘in’ was the night she decides to tell me that she’s moving. I was pissed and not to mention a little hurt. She never gave me a chance to explain myself about Tori, before she up and left. Up until I moved, I constantly nagged Layla about Rylie, but she wouldn’t throw a dog a bone because in her words “I fucked up a good thing.” Well no shit, Layla.
After I see Rylie enter her house, I drive off. I turn on the radio and JasonMraz’s song “I Won’t Give Up” comes on. Turning it up, I finally listen to the lyrics. Everything happens for a reason. I don’t think about just fucking her. I want something more with her. I want something that means love and forever. I think about how she looked tonight. She seems happy and carefree, but I can tell that her walls are still up. I know she still has scars, but I want to be the one who breaks down those walls and helps her erase them. I want her to let me in. I will not give up until Rylie ismine.
I’ve been living at Mum and Dads for a while now. The house is big enough, so there is no point in me renting a place. Hell, if Mum had her way, I’d stay here forever, but I’m only staying until I find the house I’m looking for.
I pull into the driveway of my parents’ huge ten bedroom house. No, mansion is more like it. Mum was originally some famous actress until her and Dad decided to adopt me. Dad is a hot shot lawyer who mostly takes cases from celebrities, although, every once in a while, he’ll do pro bono cases for regular people.
My parents have never really been big on their money, and they don’t give a shit what class a person is. They don’t care about eating at fancy restaurants or shopping at Target. All they care about is who a person is. When I was ten, I found out that I was adopted. At the time nothing really changed, but as I got older I wanted to know more about my birth parents. Over the years I talked with Mum and Dad about them and when I was eighteen, they informed me they had tracked my birth mother and father down. After a few major family meetings and some last minute planning, we packed up the car and traveled to Sidney to meet them.
When we showed up at the Fleming’s home, I was shocked. They were young. There was no way possible that these people could be my birth parents. After speaking with them, we found out that they had me when they were only fifteen years old and gave me up so I could be raised in a good home with successful parents. They also never had any other children because they felt that they shouldn’t bring another life into the world when they had given up their first child for adoption. To them, it didn’t feel right to have any more.
Since the very first meeting, my birth parents have become best friends with my parents. They are over every holiday, birthday, and any other special event. I know that I’m lucky enough to have not one, but two sets of parents who love and care about me. Some people are barely allotted one devoted family member in life.
After killing the ignition of the car, I get out, and walk into the house. Mum is sitting on the couch with her stupid onesie on, watching reality television. I shake my head as I sit down next to her.
“Good day at work, sweetie?” Mum still talks to me as if I’m five.
“Yeah, I also ran into someone today that I knew when I lived in Perth.” At that small comment, Mum sits up straight.
“Who?”Her eyes go wide and I know she wants to hear that I met a girl.
I run my hand through my hair and look at her. “Her name is Rylie.”
Mum smiles that sneaky little smile she does when she gets an idea. “Tell me about her.” She pats on the cushion, telling me to come and sit down next to her. Great. I knew I should have gone right to my room.
I do, I tell her all about the trial, and everything I know about it. As I talk about it, she starts to get sad. “Derek, sweetie, she sounds like she still has healing to do. Tread carefully.”She takes my hand, “I just want to see you happy. Sweetie, I have a good feeling about her. Don’t give up even if she pushes you away. What are the chances that you two would meet again?” She pats my hand, “Yes this is a good sign, darling.”
I squeeze her hand and smile. She always knows what to say.
We sit together and watch her stupid show for a while, until my phone goes off. Looks like I have plans this weekend. I shoot Mum a smile and head to bed.
Chapter 8
Rylie
I pull in front of my little house with pale blue siding and white shutters. It’s not much to look at, but I take pride in it, and my yard is exquisite. I’ve never been much of a yard person, but when I bought this house, I decided to go for it. Now, I’m pretty sure that I have the greenest grass on my street. I also have a circle garden around my gum tree, and I placed someBirds of Paradisearound another tree in the back. I just recently added someSnap Dragonsalong the pathway that leads up to my front porch to go with theFrangipanisandParramatta’sthat were here when I bought the house. Off to the side of my house is a tiny pond that has a small frog fountain and asucculent tree. It isn’t much, but I think it’s beautiful, and it gives me a sense of peace.
I unlock my door, and put my purse and jacket in the closet. My house is not anything special, but it is something that I have of my own. The kitchen is small, but I like cooking in there. It’s cozy. The living room has a brown loveseat and a forty-five inch flat screen television mounted on my wall.
There are two bedrooms; one for me and a guest room for company. The master bedroom is average size, but my king size bed barely fits in there. I refuse to get a smaller bed though, because the one I have is soft and has pillows all over it. I think the bed is part of the reason that I’ve been sleeping so well lately. Off to the right side of my bed is my walk in closet. It’s pretty bare at the moment, but I don’t need that much anyways. I also have a queen size bed in the guest room with a night stand and a dresser.
I look at my bare walls. There are some pictures here and there, but nothing major. I think I am going to paint this weekend. I picked cream for the kitchen and living room. My room will be light green and the guest room will be a light blue. Something modern and contemporary; which is perfect for my new start.
I call up Melody, a friend of mine, whom I met a few months ago when she applied for the stylist position in my salon. She’s from Canada, and traveling around the world. She only spends so long in each place that she travels to. Yesterday, Mel told me that she’ll be leaving at the end of the year to go back home, and it saddens me. I’m going to miss her, but she says she feels that it’s time to face her demons. Throughout our friendship, she’s told me all about her home town and all about her ex, Liam. He broke her heart into a million pieces and she doesn’t believe she’ll ever find love again. I’m going to miss laughing over her cute accent, and hearing it all the time. I always tell her that it makes me wish for a Canadian accent. I’m also going to miss her weird eating habits and when she forces me to try dishes that are native to her country.Once, she made me eat this thing called Poutine. It looks like complete shit, but oh my god, it was so damn good.
