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Henry starts to talk about the duck situation that Mr. Kipton is so passionate about. I’ve heard about the ducks a thousand times since living here, so I tune him out. The only reason I come to these events is because it gives me a form of entertainment besides reading, plus the chance to be around people.
Adrian shifts beside me, his arm splayed awkwardly on the wooden end of the pew. It looks as if it was meant to be an armrest, but it’s got this odd curve that doesn’t make for a nice resting place.
“You can relax, I don’t bite,” I whisper, leaning toward him. There’s ample space between us that he seems determined to keep.
He looks down at me, something glittering in his blue eyes. I can imagine him in another life leaning down and whisperingbut I do. The thought sends a tingle down my spine–but doesn’t come to fruition.
“They should vote for new pews,” he mutters and shifts once more. This time, he lets the arm closest to me rest on the back of the pew, then sets his left ankle on his right knee. He looks like he belongs on the cover of a magazine, or in a board room commanding people. I know I’d listen to him.
“We only vote on pointless matters,” I whisper back and the corner of his mouth quirks up.
On the outside, I’m smiling softly, but on the inside, I’m doing an awful winner’s dance. There are lots of hip shaking and flailing arms, maybe even a sprinkler move or two. Because seeing Adrian even comecloseto smiling at something I said feels worthy of celebration.
The sound of Henry’s gavel rapping the podium drags my attention back to the subject at hand.
“All in favor of capturing the ducks and relocating them say aye.”
“Aye!” Mr. Kipton shouts, but no one else does. Not even Adrian, a fact that makes my smile grow. He might be a grump, but at least he doesn’t hate our cute fowl residents.
“Once again, the duck issue will be tabled due to lack of support.”
Mr. Kipton starts on his usual rant about the noisy useless birds. I lean against the back of the pew with a sigh, only to have it transform to a sharp intake of breath when Adrian’s hand brushes my back through my burgundy turtleneck. He quickly moves his arm to rest on his leg, but the heat from his touch stays with me.
Henry bangs his gavel again. “That’s enough, Kip. You can try to rally votes for the next meeting. Everyone is dismissed. Don’t forget to grab a cookie from Peaches and Cream on your way out!”
Everyone starts to shuffle to the door, and I stand, stretching my arms above my head. Five minutes in these seats is five minutes too long. I’d rather stand for an hour than sit in these for any length of time. Not to mention I was hunched over my desk all day today working on new designs and packing orders.
“That was a fairly short meeting,” Adrian comments, surprising me with small talk. I half-expected to blink and him to disappear before my eyes as soon as the meeting was over.
“Count yourself lucky,” I say as I grab my caramel-colored coat and shrug it on. “The previous meeting lasted two hours.”
Adrian steps out into the aisle and waits for me to walk with him. It’s hard to keep my smile restrained so I don’t grin like a maniac at his simple gesture. I want to be friends, not scare him away.
“What on earth could constitute a two-hour meeting?”
We bypass the horde of people crowding around the cookie table. I’d rather pay for a cookie than stand in that line. Adrian seems to share my sentiment. He holds open the large door, and a brisk wind nips at my cheekbones when we exit the building. It’s nighttime, but I didn’t drive here because I like to leave the spots to the residents who can’t walk home.
Town meetings during the winter months always end up with a walk through the dark, holding my phone flashlight and using each streetlamp as a checkpoint. The pepper spray tucked in my right coat pocket is usually already brandished before my foot even leaves the last church step. I’d like to say I wasn’t always this cautious, but that would be a lie. From the first moments I can recall I’ve always kept my footsteps light and been aware of my surroundings.
Growing up in a home full of chaos and uncertainty will do that to you. Suddenly you know your mother’s emotions by the way she grips her coffee cup, and your father’s mood by the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. When no one communicates effectively, you pick up other methods of discernment. And I used that knowledge to make myself as small of a target as possible.
After fleeing my childhood home, my roots traveled with me, planting themselves in this new soil. I know it’s not abnormal to carry pepper spray at night, but when you combine it with the rest of myquirks, I probably seem like a paranoid freak. I feel ridiculous carrying around pepper spray inPeach Hollowof all places. It’s not even that I feel as though I’m in true danger–my parents probably don’t care enough about me to try to find me–but I can’t help but worry that one day that will change.
Adrian’s discerning blue eyes watch me from the bottom of the church steps. I realize I’ve been standing here for a moment too long … and that I haven’t answered his question.
“The main cause for debate was whether we should allow a food truck to park near the lake once a month,” I finally answer him and hop down the remainder of the steps.
We walk side by side toward our homes and I feel safer than I ever have. I still turn on my phone flashlight, thankful when Adrian doesn’t ask me why I need one when there are street lamps. It’s odd that this taciturn man could feel safe to me when many of the men I’ve encountered tend to feel the opposite. Maybe it’s just a result of not interacting with men close to my age in years, though.
“What was the decision?”
We turn a corner and our arms brush through our coats. The meager touch makes my stomach flip. Yep, I think I need to get out more. Maybe I’ll give in and try that awful dating app Caroline is always telling me about. I shouldn’t feel this way over a simple occurrence. Poor Adrian is merely walking home next to me and I’m deluding myself into thinking there’s chemistry between us. I don’t even know what romantic tensionfeelslike, so it’s unlikely that I’m capable of labeling our interactions as anything more than neighborly.
“It was split for a while, hence the length of the meeting. But Poppy ended up convincing someone on the negative side to become a supporter. Now a barbeque truck comes once a month. It’s not the best food, but it keeps people from having to go to the city, so they line up around the block.”
“The city?” There’s humor lacing Adrian’s tone. “Do you mean Atlanta?”
“Yes.” I let out a soft laugh, a white puff of air escaping my lips. “That’s what everyone calls it here. If you stick around, you’ll start saying it too I imagine.”
