AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Zak simply looks over at me; I feel his gaze intensely as if it were boring into my soul.
"Really?" he asks, his tone incredulous. He licks his lips and rolls out his shoulders, and I watch as the muscles in his arms and back ripple. It feels suddenly claustrophobic in here; I need to let some air in. I fumble around with the controls on the door, trying to get the window down but accidentally moving my seat up and down in the process and bringing my seat embarrassingly close to the roof. Feeling flustered and embarrassed, eventually, I find the right button. Exasperated, I lie back in my seat. Zak lets out a low, deep chuckle, and I give him a glare.
"So, no small talk?" I venture again, testing the waters of conversation.
"Nah," he says without hesitation, his gaze fixed firmly ahead.
"I don't do small talk," he concludes; I nod in agreement. If that's the way he wants it, I can do silence. I opt to look out the window and admire the views of Hoola Bay. Neither of us say anything more until we arrive at our destination: a rundown beachside house with exceptional views of Hoola Bay.
I step out of the car, the unease I felt this morning replaced with curiosity. I’m about to start my summer job and spend the day with Zak, my slightly grumpy yet devilishly handsome boss. And I can’t deny that I’m a little bit excited about that fact. I wonder if he might get too hot and take his shirt off at some point... I find myself smiling, despite my determination to stay professional and also match Zak's moody attitude.
As I step onto the overgrown grass and walk up the driveway, I remind myself that I am in charge. I had been hired for a purpose, and I’m eager to get to my task and make some cash over the summer. When I approach the house, I take a moment to appreciate the beauty of the structure. Despite its crumbling exterior, I know that the house could be the perfect home again, with a little bit of love and care. It is in the most beautiful and secluded location on the coast, close enough to the center that you aren’t isolated from society, but far away enough that you have some peace and privacy. The house sits right on the edge of the beach; you can hear the ocean waves from there. I quickly shut my eyes to appreciate the moment. I love the ocean. I have such a busy schedule at college I don’t ever take the time to visit the beach, but being nearby somehow feels right. I feel like the ocean is calling to me.
Outside, Zak fills me in on the details, letting me know that this house had been neglected and left to rot for years. The faint sadness in his eyes betrays some sort of emotional connection here. I figure it is because he'd already spent a lot of time fixing the place up. He tells me that he's been working on it for months, making small changes, but it still needs a lot of effort. He says he wants it to look exactly how he first envisioned it, but that he has realized the project is far bigger than he thought it would be. So he has rearranged his other obligations just to fit this into his summer plans and make the renovation his number one priority. This surprises me; I can imagine Zak doing this as a side project, maybe something fun or challenging to work on when he is bored. But he seems to be really driven to fix this place up. When I ask why he doesn’t just hire someone to take on the task, his response is evasive, and he seems almost embarrassed before mumbling something about wanting to do the project himself, ensuring its quality. Despite my confusion, I shrug and accept his explanation - millionaires don't usually do the grunt work in their own homes, but this one prefers it that way. Maybe he just loves doing the dirty work.
As I walk into the house, I can’t help admiring the effort Zak had clearly already put into it. The place is pretty big; it has four rooms downstairs and four bedrooms upstairs, plus a terrace out back that leads onto the beach. Zak explains that he is planning on working on the terrace last, and I tell him that I can help out with that due to my experience with woodwork. He nods.
"You ready to work?" he says, his voice raspy and deep and intoxicating to my ears. "You know me."
The inside of the house, much like the outside, is mostly a mess. The walls are in need of repainting, and the sparse furniture is looking more than a bit tired and probably needs to be completely replaced. He says his next task is plastering and painting the upstairs walls, which are also in poor condition. And yet, I am more than ready to take on the challenge. We begin with Zak explaining some of the structural problems and what needs work and fixing. I listen intently, captivated by his passion and knowledge.
He then moves on to outline his plans for decor, and I’m pleased to find that Zak has the same eye for detail as I have. We don’t always agree, I have a few ideas that he doesn't like, but I’m able to joke around with him and bicker about the best way to go about the task. As the morning wears on, I can feel myself getting more and more into the job and feeling excited about the whole project. It feels invigorating to be starting work on something so big, something that I had never done before. And I am learning a lot from Zak.
We walk into the back room downstairs, which has beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows letting in all the natural light and ocean views.
"So this room will be like a relaxation space, probably with some comfy chairs, maybe a bookcase over here, and some plants." Zak waves his arms around the room, indicating exactly where he envisions these things.
"Wow," I say, looking around in awe. "You've done a great job." Zak turns around and smiles .
"Thanks," he says. But then his smile fades away, and he looks around as if searching for something.
"What's wrong?" I ask . He sighs. "Well," he begins , "I did all this work to make the walls look nice and make the room feel…alive." He shakes his head. “But they still need something extra to make them actually come to life, ya know?"
A light bulb lights up inside me. "Why don't you let me paint something?" I offer. "You know, just to give it a personal touch. I love making murals and unique paintings if you're into that. And I am majoring in art and design, so I do know a thing or two."
Zak's eyes light up, and he grunts in agreement.
"I think that's a great idea," he replies . "What kind of painting? Something abstract and bold?"
"No," I ponder for a moment. "I think we should go with something really simple. Maybe some geometric shapes or silhouettes? Maybe some sky, like clouds or stars." I study the walls with my eyes, imagining the kind of paintings they could have.
Zak nods. "That sounds great," he agrees. "I like it. I'll let you go wild with creative vision. After all, if I hate it, I can always paint over it again with white," he winks, inclining his head towards the half-full white paint pot in the corner of the room.
I laugh, enjoying the playful side of Zak that had appeared since we entered the house.
I hold my hand over my chest, feigning offense.“You would never destroy my art.” I gasp.
He laughs again in response, looking out the windows to the ocean. I cock my head while watching him, interested. He seems just as drawn to the energy and pull of the ocean as I am. Before I start spouting ideas of cosmic energy and other nonsense that Charlotte would usually be talking about, I break the silence by announcing, "Okay, then. Let's get to work!"
With that, I do just that. Zak helps me gather the materials and then leaves me alone to work while he starts plastering upstairs. As I begin sketching out a design in pencil, I feel my creative juices flowing freely, and I know I will be able to create something beautiful, with the help of Zak's guidance and input.
Time seems to fly by, and the day escapes me before I know it. Zak interrupts intermittently to offer me water or snacks, which I accept and consume quickly before returning to my calling. When I finish, I step back to admire my work. The walls are now outlined with the mural. They will come alive with geometric shapes, stars, and clouds. When I add the paint, I hope it gives the room a soft, misty look. Zak returns , and I eagerly show him. His eyes widen with some surprise. Maybe he didn’t expect me to actually be any good at art, and his earlier comment about painting over my work might've been serious. He smiles widely. "This is amazing," he says admiringly. He gives me a pat on the back, and I feel both proud of myself and a little like a dog.
I know that Zak had been a bit skeptical of my ability to help him out over the summer, and I had finally decided to take a chance and show him what I could really do. I smile, satisfied. This is the beginning of a fun project and, hopefully, a great summer. Zak and I had proven to ourselves today that we could be civil and professional when working together.
When Zak drives me home, I thank him with a growing sense of excitement as I make for the kitchen. I feel my mouth begin to water for the Oreos I had been hoping for, but the pantry is highly underwhelming. This is why it’s difficult living with other people. Charlotte knows about my late-night Oreo habit and respects that, never leaving the packet empty. But it’s like a squad of vultures has taken over this house. Any food you leave out gets hoovered up by an 8-year-old boy or my father. I doubt Mel's strict diet has room for Oreos; I’ve seen her eat a handful of almonds for lunch. Instead of my favorite sugary snack, I opt for an apple. Biting into its crisp, juicy texture, I lean on the counter and savour the moment.
Just then, my father appears in the doorway. "Hey Iz, how was your first day of work?" he asks, his eyes alight with enthusiasm - and a tone similar to a father asking his kid about their first day of kindergarten. To be fair, I'm pretty sure he was away working that day, so for him, this might be that moment. "It was really good," I nod.
