I'd been pacing our driveway for at least fifteen minutes, waiting for Brock. Although he insisted on seeing me before I left, he hadn't shown up, and if I waited another five minutes, I'd be stuck in rush hour.

My phone vibrated in the back pocket of my shorts. I pulled it out and read the text.

Brock: I overslept. Sorry. Have a nice drive. x

Anger flared within me. I unlocked my car and dropped the cell into the cup holder, not bothering to reply. Alarms existed for a reason, and he could've set one to wake up on time, but he either forgot or thought making me wait for him like he'd done countless times was okay.

"Leaving already?"

I closed the car door and whirled toward my mom, who approached me, smiling her special smile — the one reserved for situations she didn't like but had to tolerate.

"Yeah. Broke texted that he overslept."

Mom tsked, fluffing her perfect waves. "Men. Always so forgetful."

Easy for her to say when Dad wasn't. He was always home in time for dinner and made sure to be available whenever Mom wanted to do something with him. I couldn't imagine him standing her up. Maybe she'd know how shitty it felt if he ever did.

"Yeah," I said, toying with the car remote. "Okay, I gotta go. I'd rather not sit in traffic."

Mom kissed my cheek. "Drive safe and call me once you're there. And Lyra."

The pause after my name should've been enough to clue me in that it was all going suspiciously well.

I swallowed the frustrated groan threatening to escape and backtracked, pinning my crossed arms over my chest. "What?"

"Men can have their fun, but when women do the same, it's never seen well. Not by men, not by their families. Don't do anything to put your relationship in jeopardy."

"Sure," I mumbled, nausea climbing my throat from what I'd read between the lines — Brock could do whatever he wanted, and I had to be okay with it. "Anything else?"

"Don't forget to check in."

I assented with my chin and rounded my SUV to slide into the driver's seat.

As I drove through the gates, I glimpsed my mother in the rearview mirror, watching me with narrowed eyes as if she didn't believe I'd go through with my plan, but there was no going back. I refused to spend my summer at home, dying of jealousy after seeing my friends' vacation pictures. I didn't need Brock to enjoy my month away and make my own happy memories.

Once I'd left our neighborhood, a semblance of calm settled over me. The feeling lasted until my car joined the long line of vehicles on the highway.

Because of the delay, it took five hours to get to the coast near the resort.

As soon as I spotted the ocean in the distance, I rolled the windows down. Salty air filled the car, messing my locks and reminding me I'd left the chaos of Wickhampton behind.

Except that wasn't entirely true. I'd be stuck at a busy nine-story hotel people used for family vacations and getaways with friends. There would be couples in love who'd rather die than take a break from each other. And even though I chose our newest resort Dad only went to once or twice a year, one call would be enough for Mom to know about my whereabouts.

The longer I thought about voluntarily trapping myself in Seaside Reverie, the more claustrophobic I felt. I wanted freedom, not to be watched over by my parent's staff, but what could I do now?

The GPS said I needed to keep driving straight. On impulse, I changed lanes and exited the highway. A narrow country road fringed by longleaf pines serpentined on my right. A glance at the screen of my navigator confirmed it led to the ocean as well, and a mile later, I passed a wooden town sign with Marfolk written on it.

"Marfolk," I said to myself, taking in the dense vegetation that hid the town from view. "You guys better have hotels."

***

"I'm sorry. It's peak season," the auburn-haired girl behind the reception desk said, looking at me with an apology in her glasses-shielded eyes.

An hour ago, I was full of optimism as I roamed the cobbled streets of the tiny beach town. Now, after being told there were no rooms available at the only three hotels Marfok had, I feared my adventure would end before it even started. The first risky thing I'd done in my life backfired. What if Mom was right, and I should've stayed in Wickhampton?

No. A self-help book I read once said nothing would change unless we did. Returning to the monotony of my predictable life scared me more than looking for another type of accommodation.

I snapped out of it and refocused on the girl behind the counter. "Yeah, I get it." I adjusted the strap of my purse on my shoulder and stepped back, ready to leave. "Thank you, anyway."

"Wait." The receptionist — Marla, as the badge on her uniform read — skirted her desk and bounced on her heels to my side, glancing around as if making sure the coast was clear. "I might be able to help you."

"How?"

"A friend of mine is renting out her grandma's place on the beach. It's not the fanciest and it's kind of old, but it's on the water. She's going to sell it, but she needs money now. If you're interested, I'll call her."

Old or new, who cared? I'd be on my own, far from Mom's judgment, with nobody keeping tabs on me. I put my folded hands under my chin. "Please do. Tell your friend I'm interested."

"Give me a sec." Marla winked, heading back to the desk. She picked up her phone and called who I assumed was the girl who'd solve my accommodation troubles. After hanging up, she scribbled something on a Post-it note and handed me the rectangle. "This is the address. Gabby's waiting for you there."

I pocketed the paper. "Thank you so much."

"Not at all."

A young couple walked into the lobby, stopping every other step to exchange a kiss. The guy looked at his girlfriend adoringly while she giggled, and jealousy stirred within me. When was the last time I received that kind of attention?

I waved goodbye to Marla and darted out of the hotel.

Lucky for me, finding the house was an easy task. It stood at the end of a quiet street and looked like lots of quaint, one-story houses I'd seen while touring Marfolk earlier — white clapboard, shuttered windows, and a gable roof. I parked in the driveway and walked to the porch. The paint was chipped, but the building was in good repair.

The front door swung open. A tall girl with her dark hair in a messy bun grinned, stepping aside. "Welcome. I'm Gabby."

"Lyra," I said, following her into the foyer.

"Let me show you around. These are the bedrooms." Gabby pointed at the two doors on either side of the hallway. "The master has an en suite."

She opened the door, and we stepped inside. A bed covered with a white comforter took up the center of the room, and a sturdy mahogany dresser stood against the opposite wall. I couldn't care less about the old-looking furniture. Not when the ocean was right outside the window, close enough to hear.

I took a few steps forward and stared at the beach through the glass. The ocean's surface shimmered like liquid silver under the late afternoon sunlight. One after another, the waves rolled in from the deep blue depths, transforming into magnificent foam-crested swells as they reached the white sand. "This is amazing," I whispered in awe.

Gabby sighed. "It is. You must think I'm a fool for selling the house, but Mr. Delano will pay me enough to open a restaurant. I've dreamed about it all my life, and my house is here too. The view's just as good. Unfortunately, I can't afford to keep both properties."

"So, you already sold it?"

Gabby went out of the room. I trailed behind her as she returned to the foyer. "Almost. I'm waiting for the paperwork because Grandma passed recently. As soon as it's ready, I'll get the money, but you're a godsend. I could really use some cash this month."

"I'm sorry about your grandma," I said. "And money isn't an issue. Just say the price."

"The kitchen." Gabby pointed a hand at the room on our right. "Before we talk about money, just be warned there's a washer, but no dryer, and the stove is old. But who'd cook on vacation when Marfolk has the best restaurants on the coast, right?"

***

After Gabby left, I texted my mother that I arrived and headed to the beach. All I needed to do was cross the backyard and descend the creaky wooden steps.

I spread a towel on the sand and bit into a sandwich I'd packed but hadn't touched, too worried about finding somewhere to stay. Now that everything was settled, I was determined to enjoy the vacation. As I took another bite, a blob of mustard slipped from between the bread slices, landing on my top. Just great. Another thing I didn't need to happen. I dabbed at the yellow stain with a napkin, but of course, it wouldn't go away without water and detergent's help.

I tossed the crumpled paper aside and blinked away tears of frustration, shifting my focus to the beauty around me. The almost-empty beach stretched for miles, and the odds of someone putting their things next to me were slim, meaning I could call Payton and tell her about my day and last-minute detour without being overheard by crowds of vacationers.

I found Payton on my recent calls list. After three tones, she answered, "Hi."

"Pay," I said. "You won't believe what I did."

"You're okay, right?" Payton sounded breathless. Her dinner shift at the steakhouse must have started, and she always complained about how busy Sundays were.

"Yeah, I am. I just—"

"Sorry, boo. I'll call you tomorrow, okay? It's insane here today. I don't want Jack to bitch about me being on the phone."

"Of course. Good l—"

The call ended. I stared at the phone, my gut twisting. Did Payton resent me for traveling? Or maybe I was overthinking, and she was just busy like she said.

Before I could decide against it, I called Brock. Unlike Payton, he didn't pick up.

My mother's words about him having fun roared in my ears louder than the waves rushing to the shore in front of me. I tossed the cell aside and hugged my knees, focusing my gaze on the swirls of orange in the evening sky.

A naive part of me believed Brock would text once he'd seen my missed call, but an hour later, he still hadn't.

I dragged my feet to the rental and took a long shower. The water washed away the sand but not my sadness. I shoved the stained top and the rest of my clothes into the washer, and once they were clean, I hung them on the old-fashioned clothesline in the backyard to dry.

My mother also said a good night's sleep always fixed things, and as I got in bed, tears streaming down my cheeks, I wished she were right.

***

Blinding sunlight warming my face woke me from a deep, dreamless sleep. It felt as if I dozed off an hour ago, but it had been nine hours. I must have been more tired than I thought to sleep through the night.

I stretched and sat, rubbing my neck strained by the lumpy pillow. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I had no plans for the day, but Gabby was kind enough to give me instant coffee as compensation for not having a coffee maker, and I'd start with that.

Fifteen minutes later, I headed to the backyard, clutching a mug with a steamy drink. I chuckled to myself as I imagined what Mom would say if she saw me outside in a threadbare white tank top, no bra, and frayed denim shorts she'd never wear in public.

The grass tickled my bare feet as I paused in the middle of the lawn. The breeze brought in the fresh scent of the ocean, and I closed my eyes, listening to the rumble of waves.

"Good morning."

My heartbeat stuttered. The coffee sloshed in my cup, and a few drops of the scorching liquid spilled onto my hand.

Gabby hadn't mentioned any neighbors, but of course, I'd have some. There was a modern house next to mine.

"Hello?"

The same voice again. Deep. Slightly husky. Male.

Heat crept up my cheeks. I lifted my eyes from the mug and instantly wished I hadn't.

A guy was leaning against the fence behind the clothesline, holding a white coffee cup. A piece of his dark, tousled hair fell over his forehead, but it was his ocean-blue eyes that had me rooted to the spot, even more awkward than I usually was.

I gripped my drink tighter. Use your words, Lyra. He was just a neighbor. A hot neighbor who'd think I was a weirdo if I continued gawking.

"Hi," I breathed.

The guy straightened slowly, a smirk curving his lips. He took a sip from his cup and extended an arm over the fence.

The air drained from my lungs at the sight of the fuchsia satin dangling from his fingers. This couldn't be happening.

"Piss on the patriarchy," he read, inspecting the girl power panties I'd hung on the clothesline to dry last night. "I believe these belong to you."

I opened my mouth, looking for something to say. He smiled wider.

"Yep. Definitely yours. I'm curious to know what the patriarchy did to you, but let me introduce myself first. I'm Emrys," he said.

Nerves locked my tongue. Emrys cocked his head, and his blue eyes bore into mine, making me feel naked. Stupid and naked.

"But please, call me Rys."

Here we go! What do you think about the chapter? Their first meeting? And what will happen next?

Important❗️
The schedule of updates is Tuesday and Friday, so you know when to expect a new chapter.

Thanks for reading, and don't forget about the little star.

Love,
Alwyn