Chapter 15
W ho made your heart flutter today? Send a message that you’d like them to know, your message will remain anonymous.
I click my phone shut. Plopping my head against the comfortable pillow, I turn to Hina who’s busy playing Stardew Valley on her phone. The face mask she has on makes her look right at home.
“You alright over there?” She asks me.
“Yeah, just thinking.”
“I know. I can hear your thoughts doing water gymnastics.”
“Oddly specific,” I turn my phone on again to stare at the text. “Did you already send your message?”
“Yep,” the comforting greens and yellows from her screen shine on the beige wall behind the bed frame. “It’s impossible for someone who isn’t a shadow daddy to make my heart flutter, so I picked the best mediocre option.”
“Which was?”
She lets out a hearty laugh before glancing at me. “Rhys,” she says. “Even though I shouldn’t be telling you.”
“Why?” I feel the heavy weight of not being trustworthy enough rest on my shoulder. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“No, silly.” Glancing at her, she turns her phone off. “It’s because he’s been showing his interest in you. It won’t go anywhere for me.”
I flush. “You don’t know that.”
Peeling the face mask off. Throwing it to the side like there isn’t a garbage bin right there. “There was an empty seat next to me and Katarina, but him and Dean took the seats beside you.”
“Dean sat next to Katarina.”
“No,” she exasperates. “Kat took the seat next to Dean, but when he saw where you were sitting. Merely walked in your direction and sat.”
My body warms. “I might just give off soft, comfy vibes.”
“Or you give off sweet, sexy girl vibes.”
The thought of Dean coming straight to me is… I shake my head. Irritating. Go away, Dean Vuk . Play with your big, lonely ego in that office of yours and leave me alone.
“I thought we were talking about Rhys,” I change the topic by giving her a look.
“We’ll talk about whoever you want after you send a message.”
She’s right.
I do what my brain tells me to do.
“Fine, done.” I turn my phone off. “Happy?”
“Yes,” she smiles. “Now tell me about this ex-convict dad of yours.”
Straightforward, a bit disturbing. “I’d rather go to sleep.”
“Oh, come on!” She moves to the edge of her bed, the light from the washroom glows onto her back. “Ten years in prison is a long time.”
You don’t need to tell me that.
“You remind me of my best friend, Sunny. She pushes me to talk about things too.”
“Is it a youngest child thing?” She asks herself and I can’t help it. I laugh loud.
“You’re the youngest too?” I know the answer, but it’ll be funny if it is that.
“Oh yeah, got five older siblings. I’m spoiled rotten, but I have enough energy to push everyone around me down.”
“I knew it,” I shake my head with a smile. “I’m the youngest too.”
“No, shit?”
I pull back, “What? Is that shocking?”
“Kind of,” she pulls her hair to one side. “I thought you’d be the oldest or even an only child.”
“What?” I asked, shocked. “There’s no way I’m giving emotionally unavailable.”
I am the epitome of youngest child energy.
“You’re… well, you’re giving oldest child trauma trapped in the body of a twenty-four-year-old.”
That’s oddly specific. “Maybe I’m giving intellectual?”
“Nah,” she brushes it off with a hand. “You’re giving social anxiety is my biggest enemy.”
It hits a nerve, but I’m well aware of it. “Is it too early to say I hate you?”
“Only if it’s too early to say I love you and you’re already the reason why I won’t lose my mind on this show?”
“Never,” I reply with a genuine smile.
Hina reflects my expression. “Then sure, hate me all you want.”
I’m beginning to learn I suck at hating people.
And later that night when Hina falls asleep, letting out soft snores, and I sneak onto the balcony to fill in empty pages of my colouring book with an icepack around my head, my phone dings with two messages.
It’s nice seeing you again. It feels like fate, doesn’t it? :)
The second message makes me see red.
Nova.
Anonymous or not, it doesn’t take a neurologist to know who sent it.
Then I recall the moment at the party.
And I press my colouring markers a bit harder against the fun teddy-bear-at-a-coffee- shop page.
Let’s show him just how messy Nova Rivera can be.
Apparently, I’m not as messy as I think. Because here I am—after a restless night—standing in front of Dean’s door with a sticky note in my hand.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m upset with him. But, the way Rhys attacked him for his past is not okay. I’m doubting Dean’s every intention, but he’s human.
I wake up to the migraine pulling at the beginning of my scalp. It’s better than last night, which is good enough. Small blessings. But I am blaming it for this bad decision.
Without overthinking it too much, I stick the note on his door and run back into my room on tippy toes.
Birds are chirping, the cameras are back on, and everyone is still asleep.
The balcony door shuts behind me. Breathing in the fresh, salty air of the morning, I’m grateful for being here. I finally take in the backyard and my skin tingles in all the right ways.
Plants. Flowers. Every existing naturistic root lies in a perfectly cut border along the ends of the backyard. There’s a cobblestone pathway leading into a forest I walked through yesterday, but it’s lighter now.
Without the nerves, my heart feels full.
To the left, a couple of vines cover a gate with a no-entry sign. From the sound of water splashing against the walls of the mountains, it’s easy to tell that’s where it leads.
Taking the stairs of the balcony down to my version of heaven, I peer through each plant. I don’t have my tools with me, but a couple of kitchen tools can do the trick if I work carefully.
My love for plants came from my first part time job. Cornwall has limited options. If you didn’t work at the local grocery store, you worked on shore. I didn’t like the smell of grocery bags or fresh fish. That’s why I begged Mrs. Little to hire me.
Quite an intelligent woman and her hands? Don’t get me started on the sophistication of her work. She’s on the level of henna artists but with plants. She’s the root whisperer—a seductress, and me? I was seduced to the max.
She speaks about plants with respect and having done her undergrad in Botany, she exists to recite their language word for word.
I’m privileged enough to have a slither of her knowledge.
It started as a hobby and when I was studying at UofT, I also took a workshop course in Oakville. Hence, how I have my certification to open up my own store.
I crouch onto the grass. My fingers shift through the soil.
It’s been watered recently, but the look of their stems to the leaves tells me they’ve been neglected.
“Don’t you look wonderful today,” I gently rub my thumb along the closed curve of the peony. She’s a shy one. It’ll take time for her to come out of her shell, but once she does. She’ll have everyone on their knees.
A soft, small, twittering moo nudges my back.
I go still.
What in the ever living …
Then a pink tongue attempts to lick my hand but falls face first into the grass.
I cover my mouth with a chuckle looking at the culprit and my heart swoons .
A light, brown-furred calf turns her hand and stares at me with boba eyes and eyelashes I pray for.
When I reach out to pet the baby, it bounces onto its feet and sloppily runs— gallops —towards the barn. One of the two back legs, drags against the three.
I hop onto my feet to go after the calf when it reaches the bridge connecting two mountains.
Across from it is grass upon grass, but a large barn sits right in the middle. There’s a home not too far from it.
Cornwall has a couple of barns, and I’ve spent my fair share visiting. But the animal farm life is not what the town is known for. It’s the fish, the mackerel, the pollack, bass—everything I don’t eat anymore. Can’t stand the smell of it either.
I breathe in the wind that flows through my silk pyjamas.
You know those feelings where you’re enjoying the present knowing you’ll miss it later?
That’s how I feel right now. I’m here, but I’m already yearning for it.
The baby cow bangs her head against the brownish-yellow door. It’s large, has some cracks in it, but stable enough to show that its survived some bad times.
“Lottie!” I hear a voice call from the inside.
The door swerves open, hiding me from view.
A man with a buzzed head, lips etched in a stern line, and stress wrinkles over his forehead barge out. He puts his hands on his hips.
“Own a farm, they said.” He mutters under his breath, looking at the baby cow, who sits on her butt and tilts her head looking up at him.
He runs a hand over his buzzed head. “Damn you for being adorable, Lottie.”
I peek my head out from behind. “If it helps, she’s a sweetheart.”
The man yelps and rests a hand over his heart. “Damn it, you scared me.”
“Sorry, I’m Nova.” Side stepping from the barrier, I extend my hand.
The man eyes my extended hand and recovers by shaking it. “Gabriel. You on the dating show?” He looks over at the house.
“I am. How do you…”
Lottie abruptly stands and attempts to run away.
“Lottie—” Gabriel sighs when he realizes she’s not going far. “She’s going to give me a heart attack. But to answer your question,” He shows off the gap between his two front teeth with a smile. “Irene Doleres is my half-sister. That house,” he points at it with his cap. “Is mine.”
“I’m sorry,” I quickly say. “It must suck having strangers live in it.”
Gabriel swats his hand with a tsk . “Anything to help family out.”
“Well, thank you for letting us stay there, Mr…”
“Just Gabriel is fine. I don’t care much for formalities.”
“Just Gabriel,” I smile kindly. “I’m not exactly looking for love by being here.” I randomly add that last part, because that’s what everyone assumes you’re here for when they find out.
Gabriel purses his lips then shakes his head. “It’s not weird at all. Whether you’re here for love, money, or friendship. It’s an experience, right? ”
I nod.