3. Aida
I fallasleep to the glow of the police lights as a car pulls up to the house next door, smiling to myself as I think how I just handled that situation. I’m here to relax, not deal with some idiot kids blowing off fireworks weeks before it’s actually July Fourth. While I was hit with a mild amount of guilt, thinking I might have overdone it by calling the police, I still zonked out rather quickly. And the next morning, I was certain I made the right decision, sleeping better than I have in months, hell, possibly even years.
The sun is just beginning to rise, basking the bedroom in a beautiful glow. It feels like I’m waking up in a dream world, and it kind of is. For the last year, I was living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment with a view of a brick wall out the window. Nothing can be better than waking up in this massive house with a view of the ocean.
I climb out of bed, feeling like my life can’t get any better. I pull on a pair of leggings and a sports bra, determined to start every day with some sunrise yoga on the deck that overlooks the ocean. It’s time to take care of myself before I head into a grueling couple of years of law school.
Pulling my hair up in a pile on the top of my head, I stop in front of the oversized glass doors, taking in the view and letting out a long slow breath. My life is about to get the restart it needs.
Sliding the doors open fully, I step out onto the deck along with my phone and my yoga mat. I spread it out and set my phone up so I can see it. I hit play on the video and hear the soothing voice of the woman doing the instruction.
“Begin by standing tall, elongating your spine,” she begins, her voice soft and calming, and I do what she says, taking in the cleansing breath when she tells me to.
I can hear the waves lapping at the shore, the smell of the salty sea air filling my nose as I breathe in. I have no idea how I’m going to leave here when the ten weeks are up. They might just have to evict me.
“Now move into warrior pose,” the woman croons, her voice sweet, and I close my eyes, moving into position.
The calm I feel wash over me is like nothing I’ve felt before, my breathing is even and slow, my body relaxed as I continue to follow the instructions.
“Continue your warrior flow,” the mellow voice calls out, softly. “Remind yourself of how powerful you are as you greet the rising sun with grace and peace.”
“Oh my fucking god!” a voice shouts out, startling me and I nearly fall over. The calm I once felt is long gone, and my heart is now slamming against my chest with the force of stampeding elephants.
“Why are you sleeping outside?” I call out, this disheveled man popping up from the outdoor couch on the deck of the house next door. I feel like I have a million questions running through my head, but this is the one that rushes from my mouth.
“Why are you out here with that annoying woman disturbing my sleep?” he asks back, standing up, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, his hands running through his messy hair.
Try as I might, my eyes wander over his body, all tanned and muscled, each ripple of his abs catching my eye.
“And now let’s move into downward dog,” the woman’s voice croons, and I realize my video is still playing, moving on without me, and the calm that is lost.
“The only dog I want to hear about is up dog,” the guy shouts, and my eyes widen, confused by his response to my video.
“What’s up dog?” I ask, hating that I’m now being forced to interact with this guy, considering I called the police on either him or one of the people who are currently residing in the house.
“What’s up dog!” he calls out, letting out a loud, raucous laugh, and while I did play right into his stupid joke, I’m not happy about it.
Rolling my eyes, I grab my mat and start to head back inside, not bothering to dignify his stupid joke with a comment. I will not engage with him or anyone who lives in that house. They’re the ones who are behaving like teenagers. And to think I even felt a little guilty for calling the police. Forget that now. They deserved to have the police called on them, and this guy doesn’t need any more attention than I’ve already given him.
“Hey, where are you going?” the guy asks, his words far too loud for the early morning hours, but he clearly has no regard for anyone since his party raged until the police showed up.
“Inside,” I call over my shoulder, telling myself not to turn around, even though I’d love to get another look at his body. Holy shit, he’s smoking hot, but he’s also clearly an immature dick, and I have no room in my life for that kind of crap.
“Come on, tell me what you’re doing here? Maybe I should call the police,” he says, and I freeze, my eyes wide, my heart racing.
Does he know it was me who called the police? Fuck my life, I’ve pushed it too far. I knew something like this would happen. Why the hell did I call the police?
“You can ignore me all you want, but if you’re squatting in the Henderson’s house, they’re going to find out,” he yells now, thinking I can’t hear him, but I can hear him just fine. If anything, he’s so damn loud the whole island can hear him.
“Wait, what?” I now respond, my brain finally catching back up and realizing he thinks I’m here illegally. I don’t even look like the kind of person who would squat in someone’s fancy house. Not that I have any idea what a person who would do that would look like. I don’t even know how to break into a house. I can’t even break into my apartment when I lock the keys inside, which has happened more than I care to admit to.
“Squatting, like when you move into someone’s house—” he starts, but I cut him short, storming back outside onto the deck.
And there he is, this gorgeous asshole in all his tanned and shirtless glory standing on the deck, a mischievous grin on his face like he’s just caught me.
“I know what squatting is, and I am not squatting. I am house sitting for the Henderson’s. I could say the same thing about you,” I accuse, pointing a finger at him, thinking about how he could be squatting in the beautiful house next door. Although wouldn’t the police have figured that out last night?
Oh my god, I need to focus on what is happening right now. I don’t need any drama with this guy, and I certainly don’t need him calling the police and the police reaching out to the Henderson’s. I can’t lose this job, this amazing and perfect job.
“Maybe you’re the one who’s squatting,” I hit back, my hands on my hips as the guy lets out a hearty laugh, his head falling back as if what I’ve said is the most ridiculous thing in the world. He’s the one who accused me of it in the first place.
“It’s my parents’ house,” he replies, scoffing, and I’m not sure if squatting is better.
I should have known he was one of those spoiled rich kids with zero responsibilities. That’s the total vibe he’s giving off, especially now, sleeping outside on the outdoor furniture, shirtless and disheveled.
“That explains so much,” I mutter, turning my back again, trying to get back inside to finish my yoga. Yoga was supposed to help me start my morning with calm and peace, ready to take on the day. Now here I am standing on the deck, arguing with this giant man-child.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he calls out, sounding slightly offended, but I’m sure it’s not the first time he’s heard something like that, and it won’t be the last.
“It means, I can tell you have no responsibilities,” I quip, and I tell myself to stop engaging. This is going to get ugly if I don’t just shut up. I have to live next door to Peter Pan here for the next ten weeks and talking shit about him to his face isn’t going to help.
“Oh really, that’s what you think? Maybe I’m house sitting too,” he says, and again I find myself stopping to listen to his mindless drivel.
“I’m going to go finish my yoga. I hope you have a nice day,” I say, clenching my teeth and trying not to sound like I’m annoyed as hell, even if I am annoyed as hell.
Again, I’m glad I called the police on him. Might even do it again tonight if he tries to pull that shit again.
“You say have a nice day, like people say bless your heart. You might as well have said ‘fuck you’,” he retorts, and I swear I have no idea how to handle this guy. Not that I’m known for my finesse with men. It’s been a bit since I’ve had a boyfriend. Well, at least one that counts, like it’s been maybe around six months. The most recent one was your typical douche who had no desire for monogamy or understood how to behave in public.
But I like to remind myself that my goal was not to find a husband or a boyfriend when I went off to college. It was to finish in the top of my class so that I could get into a good law school and then make a name for myself as a badass lawyer. All of that takes a lot of studying and a lot of time. It all left little time for things like a boyfriend. And the ones I did have, were very reminiscent of this douche in all his shirtless, muscled, hot guy persona.
“Goodbye,” I call, tossing a hand up as I shake my head and walk back into the house. I quickly close the sliding glass doors so I don’t have to hear him or anything else he has to say.
I let out a grumble of annoyance as soon as I feel like I’m by myself, hoping he can’t hear me, but I could hear the fireworks last night.
“Whatever,” I mutter, grabbing my phone and hitting play on the yoga video, but as soon as I hear her once soothing voice, all I can think about is the idiot next door. She does sound terribly annoying now.
Thanks to that dick for ruining my morning.
An hour later, I’ve eaten breakfast, changed into my bikini and am heading out to the beach. My calm morning is long gone, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a wonderful calm rest of the day sitting on the beach.
I set my chair out, tucking my water bottle into the sand next to me, I let out a sigh, feeling the warm sun on my skin.
This is exactly what I hoped it would be like to be out here. With my sunglasses on, my book in my hand, I lean back, feeling the quiet of the beach wash over me.
I open my book, some sweet romance that was recommended on TikTok, and I let the mindlessness of reading by the water take over.
The book draws me in immediately and I’m reading, not even noticing that the beach has gotten busy. When I finally look up from my book, there are people everywhere, along with a volleyball net that has been set up a few feet away.
This is a public beach, and I get that it’s summer so I’m not surprised as it begins to get busier, but I find myself continuing to read, unaware of the crowds.
It’s not until a volleyball nails me in the side of the head, knocking my book from my hand and sending it flying into the sand, that I take some serious notice.
“What the hell?” I call out, rubbing the side of my head as I retrieve my sand-coated book from the divot it’s made on the beach.
The volleyball is lying at my feet as someone calls out for me to throw it back. They could have at least apologized, but instead they’re more worried about getting their stupid ball back.
“Right here!” the voice calls out, and as soon as I hear it, I know exactly who it is. This has got to be some kind of fucking joke.
“Come and get your own damn ball!” I yell, grabbing it and holding it like my life depends on it. I don’t know what I think I’m going to do with it. Hold it and have a WWE-style wrestling match to get it away from me?
“Take it easy, it was an accident,” he says, but as soon as he gets close enough, realizing it’s me, he lets out a loud and offending laugh.
“Well, holy shit, it’s you, my prissy neighbor.”