3. CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER THREE
Wes
I t’s Joss.
Two little words.
Two words that keep ringing through my head in her perfect accent. It’s Joss. Just her name, but a win is a win, and dammit, I didn’t realize how much I needed one after a string of so many losses. I can’t believe I dropped my passport, or that she took it upon herself to get it back to me. What a clusterfuck it would have been if she hadn’t.
No, officer, I swear I had a passport when I boarded the plane .
I scrub my hand across my face before sliding it through my hair. I can only imagine the state it’s in right now—I’m counting down the minutes until I can take a shower. Bringing myself to care is difficult though. God, what a way to end an already excruciating travel day.
It’s not lost on me though that if I hadn’t dropped my passport, I wouldn’t have seen her again. Joss . Her name rolls around in my brain like the best kind of distraction. I was serious about getting her coffee, anything to repay her for the effort of chasing me down. Yet, if I’m being completely honest, it wasn’t her kindness that put this stupid grin on my face. The one I can’t seem to get rid of. No, it was getting her riled up. Who knew a girl giving me sass about my ego would be such a turn-on?
That’s the most like myself I’ve felt in months. It was easy to banter with her. Fun. My smile stays in place even as I walk away.
I clear the security exit, baggage claim, and customs with no additional issues. My passport is safely stored in my sadly ruined backpack—now slung across the front of my body. I take a seat on an outdoor bench to wait for my ride, taking the weight off my knee and stretching my legs in front of me.
My suitcase, surfboard bag, and carry-on sit beside me. I got used to traveling light in the military, taking only what was necessary. Now, my behemoth of a bag seems almost comical. On the other hand, considering I’m here with a work visa and no return flight, I guess this could be considered light. Most of my belongings I either sold or donated before I left, with the remainder going into storage to be dealt with at a later date. I wish locking up my emotional baggage were as easy. If only I could put it in a box and throw away the key.
I tip my head back and slide my eyes closed, letting the crisp June breeze coast across my skin. I left an eighty-degree summer day behind me in Los Angeles only to be greeted by a sixty-degree winter day in Sydney. The reverse of the seasons has always thrown me off. Even when I was in college here it messed with me when we’d be on summer break for Christmas. Of course, winter in Sydney isn’t like winter in Tahoe. When you’re used to feet upon feet of snow, days with highs in the sixties and lows in the forties aren’t exactly what I’d classify as “winter” weather. But I won’t complain, not when it means I can surf year-round while I’m here.
I let my thoughts wander and, unsurprisingly, am taken right back to today’s flight, when I was right on top of Joss. I’ve been attracted to many women over the years and enjoyed the fruits of that attraction even more, but there was something different with her. Like a moth to a flame, I feel like Joss could burn me and I wouldn’t resist.
Anyway, none of that matters. Sydney’s massive, and chances are she doesn’t even live here. She could be based anywhere in Australia for all I know. The likelihood of seeing her again is slim to none, which is for the best. Given my current mental state, I’m not in a position to start anything with anyone. If I’m being honest, I have no plans to ever seriously date again.
My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket. My ride’s almost here. Breck, my closest friend from my years at the University of Sydney, offered to come get me, but I’m glad I told him I’d see him tomorrow. With how tired I am right now I wouldn’t be the best company. Fortunately, it’s only a couple minutes before I’m sitting in the back of a sleek black SUV and headed toward what will be my new home for the next twelve months. I’m so glad that this driver isn’ t the chatty type.
The next thing I know the car is pulling to a stop in front of a very tall, very swanky building near the city center. I can’t believe Breck was able to swing getting me an apartment here. It’s nice to have friends in high places, and he’s well-connected in Sydney. There’s no way I would’ve been able to afford this place at their normal rates, but he called in a favor and scored me a deal.
I gather my luggage and board bag from the back and make my way inside toward the security desk. Apparently I live in a building with a security desk; that’s a first. Of course, most of the places I’ve lived have been in the middle of nowhere and had no need for luxurious anything.
The guard at the desk looks me over as I walk in. He’s older, maybe in his mid-fifties, and looks stern. For a security guard, I’ll take it.
“Hi, I’m Wes Anderson. I’m moving into apartment 16A and was told I could pick up my keys here?”
All I get in return is a gruff nod. Maybe he’s tired today too. He types something into his computer and then pulls a set of keys from the drawer to his right.
“You’ve got two keys here. If you lose one, you’re responsible for replacing it.” He slides my lease across the desk with the keys. It’s straightforward, and after thirty-four years on this planet—twelve spent on the move with the military—I’ve signed my fair share of them. “You’ve also got this key card to access the gym, pool, and other amenities on the property. Here is a welcome packet with all the information you need to get settled. If you have questions, you can reach out to management. ”
He trades out the paper I just signed for a heavy folder that I’ll likely never open. I wonder what part of Australia he’s from to have such a thick accent. I remind myself to ask him the next time I catch him wearing a smile.
“Thanks so much. Are you usually the guard here”—I look at the badge on his chest—“Frank?”
I’m one of those people who is great with names. Frank seems unsure of me though, as if he’s sniffing out ulterior motives.
“Yup.” Okay, a man of few words. Got it.
“Thanks again. Have a good one, Frank.” I offer him my friendliest smile and barely get a nod in return. I’ll break down those walls eventually; it’s what I’m best at.
I pocket the keys, grab my bags, and trudge across the marble floors toward the elevators. I haven’t lived in a big city since the last time I was here, and I wasn’t living this high life then. It was more like college dorms or trashy apartments and lots of cheap beer and ramen. This is going to be a whole different world compared to the Sydney I experienced in my early twenties.
I open the door to the apartment and let out a low whistle. Breck has really outdone himself here. The open floorplan stretches from the entryway all the way to the windows, where a stunning view of the city greets me. The glistening water of the harbour shines in the low afternoon light, and I give myself a full minute to appreciate the sight.
The apartment came fully furnished, and the decor is all modern and chic. The galley kitchen on my left is separated from a small dining room by a granite bar, and I spot a rack of copper pots and pans hanging above it. I’ll need to learn to cook more than pasta with a kitchen like this. A grey sectional sits in front of a flatscreen TV, flanked on both sides by tall black bookcases. I didn’t bring many books from home, but I’m sure that those shelves will fill up over time. I’m kind of dumbfounded that this place is going to be mine.
I kick off my shoes and pull my bags down the hallway, passing the laundry room and a half bath as I go. The bedroom is light and airy, with big windows facing the same gorgeous view. A sprawling king-sized bed with white linens and way too many pillows contrasting against a black bed frame commands most of the space. It looks like a cloud that I’d like to sink into and never get up from. There’s a leather armchair in the corner next to a small table, and a dresser opposite the bed.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror above it and flinch. I really need a shower—this bedhead situation I have going on is out of control. I drop my bags at the foot of the bed and sit down, leaning back against the mountain of pillows. I know I should stay awake, maybe go out and find something to do so I don’t mess up my transition to this time zone, but my eyes are heavy. The weight of everything I’m carrying falls away and I’m pulled under in seconds.
A chiming sound from the nightstand pulls me from sleep. I blink my eyes open, trying to register where I am. It’s a slow dawning. Right, I’m in Sydney. This is my new apartment.
I rub the sleep from my eyes and pick up my phone.
Breck
Hey mate, you make it ok?
Me
Hey, yeah, sorry. I meant to text you when I got to the apartment, but I totally passed out. Dude, this place is incredible!
Breck
No worries, and yeah I’d kind of kill to live in that building, aside from the fact that I love my house. Getting settled?
Me
If getting settled means falling asleep for three hours. Thanks again for setting this place up. Still good for tomorrow?
Breck
Definitely. Talia and I can pick you up and we’ll go grab lunch.
Me
Sounds good. Will my favorite girl be joining us?
Breck
Willow has school, but she’s excited to see you too.
Me
Tell her I brought her a present. It will be great to see you guys.
Pulling a change of clothes out of my bag, I head for the bathroom. The groan that escapes me when I see the spacious walk-in shower is indecent. There’s also a separate garden tub large enough for even my long legs, which I look forward to using sometime soon. I can almost hear the shower calling my name as I strip down, wincing slightly at the pull of denim over my swollen, red knee. I make a mental note to ice it tonight even though I know I probably won’t.
The hot water hits my shoulders and some of the stress and exhaustion is immediately rinsed away. I go through the motions on autopilot before gliding the most luxurious towel across my skin. This is something I could get used to. I fasten it around my hips and run my fingers through my damp hair. It’s longer than I’ve had it in twelve years, and part of me wants to just let it keep growing. My small rebellion against the military’s rigid grooming standards.
I venture out to the empty kitchen, aimlessly opening cabinets. Why didn’t I think to order in groceries or something? Now I’m starving and have nothing to eat and no energy to go out. The stainless-steel fridge taunts me, and despite knowing it will be empty, I pull it open.
“No way!”
I’m talking to myself, but there’s beer in the fridge, so it feels warranted. Another pull of a handle reveals a pizza in the freezer with a note.
I imagine this was Talia’s doing. Regardless, dinner is served. Or I guess it’s lunch? This time change is really messing with me. I pull the pizza out and start prepping it to go in the oven, popping open a beer as I go. It’s cold and slides down my throat smoothly, taking a little bit of the weariness with it. The sound that escapes my lips is embarrassing. I’m sure I’m quite the sight, standing here half-naked, moaning over my beer.
With the pizza cooking, I walk over to the windows. Two of them are actually doors leading out onto a small patio, and I waste no time opening them wide. I let the sunlight and chilly wind reinvigorate my tired body, unconcerned that I’m in nothing but a towel slung low on my hips. There are a couple of patio chairs and a small table out here, and I already know I’ll be using them a lot over the next year. I lean on the railing, taking a large swig of my beer, and soak in the fact that I’m actually here.
A few quiet minutes pass, my body releasing built-up tension with each breath of fresh air. I should go check on the pizza, and I need another beer. Turning, my eyes snag on the balcony of the neighboring apartment. The vibrant coral surfboard propped against the wall is what first catches my eye. There’s also a very skimpy bikini hanging off the back of a chair. Could it be that I have a surfer chick living next door? Be still my heart.
You’re not looking to date, remember? I chide myself. Settling down here, or anywhere really, isn’t something I’m interested in. But does that mean I can’t enjoy the fun of being single in a city far away from my past and all the mess that comes with it? Would it be so bad befriending the adventurous woman next door? Maybe she’s someone who would jump at the chance to do something fun and go along with all my hairbrained schemes. This living situation is looking better and better every minute.
My stomach’s incessant growling tugs me away from the balcony, and thoughts of my neighbor are interrupted by the buzzer on the oven. Grabbing a second beer from the fridge, I search through all the drawers until I finally find an oven mitt. It’s black, what a surprise. Everything in this apartment is monochrome. I can’t decide if I like it or not.
I’m so hungry I eat the entire pizza and finish off a third beer before I’m done. With a full stomach, my exhaustion weighs on me again. Keeping my eyes open is becoming a challenge, but I want to get unpacked before I crash for the night.
I walk to my room and flip open my suitcase. I take my time hanging clothes in the closet, filling the dresser, and even unloading all my toiletries. But it only takes me about an hour before I’m all moved in and there’s nothing left to distract me from the tiredness.
Bed. Now. Need sleep. My brain is functioning in single syllable words at this point. I have the wherewithal to at least double-check that the oven is off and plug in my phone before I fall face-first into the cloud that is my new bed.