Mark, my grumpy soul brother, grumbles something that sounds like “thanks” before turning on his well-worn tennis shoe.
“Well, it was nice running into you.” I start the goodbyes, ready to retreat into the fortress that is my childhood bedroom and reinforce my no-new-friends policy. “Congratulations again on everything.”
“Before we go, are you back for good or just visiting?” she asks, and I freeze beneath her kind, curious gaze.
I want more than anything to say I’m on my way out, but the hard truth is that I’m stuck here until further notice.
“I’m staying for a little bit, just not sure how long.” Even if all my prospects are dry and I haven’t opened my computer in weeks, I can’t bring myself to say this move is permanent. Somewhere deep down, I’m still holding on to the glimmer of hope that all’s not quite lost.
“Well . . .” She drags out the word and her blue eyes sparkle with an excitement that both terrifies and intrigues me. “We’re hosting a housewarming party soon and I’d love for you to come. You can meet Grant and, not to brag, but I make the world’s best cocktails and even though people tell me it’s not a real skill, I’m an expert at building cheese boards.”
I know I should decline. Ashleigh one thousand percent makes her guests play icebreaker games. But somehow, some of her friendliness has rubbed off on me and caused my usual ability to say no with ease to drift into the ether.
Plus, I really freaking love cheese and cocktails!
Could this woman with white teeth, wedge sandals, and a penchant for joy be the Enid Sinclair to my Wednesday Addams?
“How can I say no to that?”
“Oh yay!” She bounces and strands of her blond hair fall free of the messy bun that—unlike mine—probably took tons of effort to create. “Do you have your phone?”
Wordlessly, I reach into my purse and unlock my phone before handing it to her. When she returns it, the name Ashleigh Barnes is on my screen sandwiched between rainbow and unicorn emojis. I hate that it makes me like her more.
“Thanks.” I lock my phone and drop it into my purse. “I’ll text you later so you’ll have mine.”
“Perfect! It was so great running into you,” she says before wrapping her long arms around my shoulders and pulling me in for another hug. Since physical touch is my absolute least favorite love language, I go stiff as a board in her embrace. “I’m even more excited about this move now. We’re going to have so much fun together!”
Her genuine enthusiasm is so disarming that for some reason I’m excited about her move too. Not mine, of course, but still. If I have to be stuck in Ohio, it will be nice to talk to someone besides my parents and the Karens.
She starts to walk away but turns around at the last minute. “Oh my goodness. I almost forgot. You know who else we’ll have to invite?”
“Who?” I rack my brain for literally any person other than Ruby to name but come up empty.
“Nate Adams!” She seems almost jubilant saying the one name I never wanted to hear again.
I try my hardest not to let her see me react. Things were going so well and I can’t ruin it at the last minute. Causing a scene at Cool Beans was bad enough; having a meltdown in front of my parents’ house isn’t even an option. And considering freaking out in front of my previous residence is what kickstarted my demise, it’s a mistake I refuse to repeat.
“Nate Adams?” I attempt to play dumb. “I’m not sure I remember him.”
“Really? I could’ve sworn you two were friends at Central.” Ashleigh’s gorgeous face twists with confusion. “Well, shoot, he was just here. I could’ve introduced you.”
“I’m sorry? What?” I ask sharply—too sharply to be talking about someone I’m claiming I don’t remember. Alarm bells are blaring in my head and my instincts are screaming at me to run. “He was just where?”
“At my house. He lives down the street.” Although I can see the questions in Ashleigh’s eyes wondering why I’m so shaken about a person I said I didn’t remember, she’s kind enough not to call me out on my now very obvious lie. “He was our Realtor, and I think he’s on the HOA board or something. He stopped by to welcome us to the neighborhood.”
He’s a Realtor? And part of the HOA?
The shock of discovering someone below the age of fifty is a willing and active participant in the HOA is almost enough to distract me from the very terrible, no good, awful news that Nathanial Adams, enemy of my heart and soul, is practically my next-door neighbor.
Almost.
Anger, irritation, and—worst of all—fear claw into every part of my body. Even my toes curl with indignation as I try to process what this means and the fact that my mom, who has practically force-fed me every morsel of neighborhood gossip for the last two years, somehow managed to skip over this piece of very important information. I inhale through my nose, exhaling long and slow the way my therapist taught me during our last Zoom session, and will my body to relax.
“Well, who needs high school reunions when you live in the Reserve, right?” I let out a shaky laugh that rings false even to my own ears. “But I know you have moving to get to. I won’t hold you up any longer.”
“Okay . . .” She hesitates a moment and panic that she’s not going to leave begins to set in. “Don’t forget to send that text later so we can make plans to get together soon. I’ll stock up on snacks and we can watch mindless TV.”
Mindless TV and snacks?
Another offer I can’t resist! How does she know all my weak spots? Witchcraft.
“I’d actually really love that.” Sincerity rings through in my words. Her bright smile softens before she gives a final wave and makes the short trek back to her driveway.
I stare after her in disbelief.
When I moved back, I was positive that I wouldn’t make any friends while I was home. After all, not only was I returning to the scene of all my running nightmares, but this was going to be temporary. There was no need to put in the effort to socialize. I had Ruby, and this is what FaceTime was invented for. But in this very moment, I break my no-new-friends oath and decide that Ashleigh—despite our unfortunate shared history at Central High and her apparent extroverted ways—is one of the good ones.
My mom, on the other hand, is in for quite the mouthful the second I see her. Unfortunately for me, before I can give her a piece of my mind, the garage door rumbles to life and reveals my dad’s tall form stalking toward me.
“In the car, Collins.” He points to the passenger-side door of the van. “The tree isn’t going to plant itself.”
I want to object. But, seeing as he’s been my dad my entire life and I’ve lost this battle more times than I could possibly count, I concede. Plus, now that I know Nate is probably lurking nearby, thinking of new ways to infuriate me, getting away for a little while sounds better than ever.
Plus, if I have to pick one parent to glean intel from, Anderson Carter is my best bet.
“So, Dad . . .” I pull his bagel out of the Cool Beans bag and hand it to him. “Want to fill me in on Nathanial Adams being our next-door neighbor?”