Chapter Twenty-Seven
Beckett
“Just a second!”
Keeley’s voice carries through the closed door of her apartment and into the hallway, and I step backwards, putting a foot of space between me and the door. You know, so I don’t look too overly keen.
Not that that particular ship hasn’t already sailed.
To be fair, I am five minutes early. I’m dressed in the smartest outfit I could find in my suitcase, and I’m holding a bottle of wine.
Oh, and a potted plant.
I was leaning towards getting a cheerful bunch of yellow and orange flowers, but the cashier at the store reckoned a houseplant was a better gesture to say, “Thank you for having me for dinner.”
He was very persuasive, apparently, because here I am. Plant and all.
The door flies open, and Keeley’s standing there, grinning a tad sheepishly. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt, holding an eyeliner pencil, and her hair is gathered sloppily in a claw clip.
And she honestly looks incredible, just like that.
“Sorry, this will likely take longer than one literal second.” She gestures down at herself. “But come on in…”
She trails off as her eyes sweep over me, taking in my lightweight black bomber jacket, ironed t-shirt, and dark jeans. And, finally, the plant.
“For Mae,” I explain, holding out the wine bottle in my other hand. “In case she doesn’t like wine.”
An indecipherable expression flits over Keeley’s features, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve made some kind of error.
But then, she smiles. It’s a big, broad, sunshine-y smile that transforms her pretty face. It’s a specific smile I haven’t seen her wear before. One I can only think she doesn’t offer over nothing.
“You’re so thoughtful,” she says almost shyly, blushing a little as she steps aside, gesturing for me to come inside.
As I walk into her apartment, she holds up a finger and darts into what I assume is her bedroom, leaving me alone to take in her space.
It’s the first time I’ve been in here, and I set down my wine and plant on the counter so I can soak it all in. Fairy lights are strung haphazardly across the ceiling over a small white couch covered in throw pillows. A messy desk with mugs full of colored pencils and a board covered in colorful post-it notes sits below the window, the laptop on it open to the Evoke website. There’s a furry blue rug and a Banksy print on the wall and stacks upon stacks of books on the coffee and side tables.
The room is filled with an eclectic, splashy mix of oddities that somehow all come together to feel exactly like her.
It makes me wonder how long she’s lived here and if she’s going to miss it when she goes.
And I say when— not if— because I’ve read some (all) of her content on the Serendipity Springs town website. She’s a brilliant writer, and I have complete faith she will score this new job.
As if on cue, there’s the thud of footsteps upstairs, and I remember why she wanted to escape in the first place.
Will she be sad to leave this apartment? Or will she welcome the change?
Crossing the room, I take a tentative seat on the couch, sliding over a stuffed capybara who’s wearing a backpack in the shape of a goose. I set the stuffed animal in my lap and retrieve my phone from my jeans pocket.
One new email from Rory Cassidy, the principal of the school where I work.
It’s an email blast to all teaching staff. I can only assume it’s filled with housekeeping items for the upcoming school year.
I ignore it, for now. Even though today brought in colder weather, it’s still summer. I’m not officially on the clock again for another two weeks.
I’m catching up on Mam’s recap of her recent introduction to scuba diving in Greece (which apparently went very poorly because Paul got chased by a rather aggressive little octopus and is now scarred for life) in the family group chat when the bedroom door opens and Keeley comes out. “Sorry about that. Ready now!”
She’s dressed in a short black skirt that wraps around at the front, and a scoop neck t-shirt that’s the same color as her eyes. On her feet are the ever-present black Converse.
Her hair is long and loose and shiny, her cheeks flushed and pink.
“You look…” Still a bit dumbstruck, I fumble for an appropriate word. “Wow.”
Nice one, Beckett. Real smooth.
For some reason, she smiles at my idiocy. “Well, you came in here looking so fancy, I had to match your energy.”
“My jacket was getting lonely, hanging out in my suitcase by itself,” I say with a chuckle. “Today’s the first day that it’s cool enough to actually wear the thing.”
For the first time since getting to Serendipity Springs, I woke up this morning to overcast skies full of gray, swollen-bellied clouds. A chilly breeze has filled the air all day.
“Nothing worse than a lonely jacket,” she confirms solemnly, reaching for a deep blue sweatshirt that’s draped over the back of the couch. She shrugs it on, then spots the stuffed animal in my lap. “Or a lonely capybara, so thank you for getting acquainted with him while I was getting dressed.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” I say as I set the little fella down on the couch and stand up. “He’s cute.”
“His name’s Bert. Gramps won him for me at the fair a few years ago.”
“There’s a fair you haven’t told me about?” I demand playfully.
“Every August.” Keeley’s eyes sparkle. “End of summer kind of thing. Rides and cotton candy and funnel cake and games that are rigged so you can’t win unless you get super lucky.”
“Well. Now I know where I’ll be at the end of the summer.”
“Oh, yes, we should totally go!” she says, and I love her use of we . “You can’t leave the USA without trying a deep-fried Oreo, now, can you?”
“I’d never be able to forgive myself,” I say gravely, and I’m rewarded with a laugh.
“It’s a date,” she says. “And speaking of dates, we should get going.”
I pick up my plant and my wine. “I thought the first portion of the evening wasn’t a date given the fact that your family members will be present.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.” A wicked little smile dances over her face. “But then, I saw you in that jacket, carrying that plant, and I changed my mind.”