Peaceful.
Serene.
Exactly what I need.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, feeling like if I talk any louder I might wake the entire town, though we’re tucked away in our little grove of trees.
“I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything like it,” Dakota whispers back. She reaches over, grabs my hand, and presses our palms together. “Thank you for coming with me, Bonnie.”
Turning toward her, I match her grateful smile and pull her into a hug. “Thank you for drunkenly applying to the job for both of us.”
She chuckles and pulls away. “From the look of it, we’re not going to have any problem with coffee.” We start down the gravel path as the sun peeks through the leaves, truly making this entire experience feel like a dream. “I did ask for help when it came to the currency here. Finella made a little chart for us so we understand the worth of each bill and coin.”
“Oh crap, I totally forgot about money. Does it seem hard?”
Dakota shakes her head. “Finella did a good job laying it all out. I can show you later.”
“They leave today?”
“Yeah,” Dakota says as we near town. “As we were saying goodbye yesterday, she said the shop was in our hands and she trusts us.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, I guess.” As we hit Corsekelly Lane, we both look left, then right. The stone dwellings are quiet, the street empty. A complete ghost town. Not a soul awake besides us. A stark contrast with LA, where time doesn’t seem to stand still but moves past you at light speed.
In front of us is Loch Duich, the sun glistening off miniscule ripples of water. Off in the distance are the pointy peaks of the Highlands, decorated in green and peppered with evergreens, the perfect view for a deathly-early morning.
“Want to go down to the bank over there?” Dakota asks, pointing. “We can sit on the rocks so our butts don’t get wet from the grass.”
“That’s a great idea. It’s so wet here—completely different from California. I’m going to have to remember that when walking around.”
We find two flat rocks that sit right at the water’s edge and take a seat. Dakota divvies out our breakfast, and together we watch the water rippling in the sun, lapping just below our feet.
We’re silent for a while, just enjoying our muffins and nature, until my mind starts to turn, reflecting on the last few years of my life.
I was never the best student, and it wasn’t from a lack of trying. I just didn’t . . . get it. I never truly excelled in any topic, and I settled with solid Cs my entire high school career, which didn’t translate over into college.
Higher academics weren’t looking for average.
They were looking for someone like Dakota. Perfect grades. President of the art club and the chess club—quite the brainiac. The girl took online college classes during high school, for crying out loud. And funnily enough, she quickly realized college was going to be a waste of her time once she found a niche in the social media marketing community. She’s paid well, constantly has work flowing in, has built a phenomenal portfolio, and continues to grow.
I was the one who wanted to go to college. My parents didn’t know that. They never knew about the applications, and I was sure to always grab the mail before them. I wanted it to be a surprise. To show them that even though they were constantly on me about getting my grades up, I could do things on my own and go to college, major in business, be my own event planner. But every time I picked up the mail, I was greeted with rejection after rejection.
With every pass, every apology letter from a university, it became blatantly clear that my parents were right—I couldn’t do it.
I had to get out of their house, away from their disappointed faces. Once again, I’d let them down.
Los Angeles held promise, but I was still just average. Never truly excelling.
“This isn’t how I expected things to go for us,” I say quietly.
“You mean bouncing off to Scotland out of the blue?”
I chuckle and shake my head. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that, but I also wasn’t expecting to be put in a situation where bouncing off to Scotland was really my only chance at repairing myself.” I sigh and lean back on one hand as I tilt my head up to the sky. “I’m twenty-four and don’t have much to show for it. I was so sure I knew what I wanted to do. Move to Los Angeles, make connections, get into the party-planning scene . . .” What a joke that was. Three-time personal assistant with nothing to show for it besides knowing where every Starbucks is in Hollywood. Pathetic. “At least you know you’re good at graphic design—you can easily do that wherever you go. But I don’t really know who I am.” Tears well up in my eyes. My throat grows tight as hopelessness overtakes me, a dark cloud ready to pour down.