Chapter 1 #2
A few hours later, the sun falls away and I walk about my room, unloading several suitcases.
Folding my clothes neatly, I place them on the queen bed raised on one of those metal frames while Rossco is sprawled out on the mattress, chewing on some loose strands of his rope toy.
Dua Lipa’s “Houdini” drifts through the Bluetooth speaker on the mahogany dresser as my stomach growls over the beat, patiently awaiting my pizza from Crocks—a small pizza joint and bar.
If there’s one thing I learned from the small pamphlet of restaurants and phone numbers the owners so kindly left on the kitchen counter—because they couldn’t manage to do much else—it’s that Cedar Creek Cove is much smaller than I thought it was.
Despite that, it has that small-town West Coast vibe that I’ve been wanting.
It wasn’t just the population of fifteen thousand that called to me, but the quaint town nestled on the Columbia River with breathtaking water views.
It may seem like an insignificant town to outsiders, but its main street has stopped tourists headed from Portland to the coast because of how well-kept and picturesque it is.
It’s one street lined with cute shops, businesses, and restaurants on the water of Cedar Creek flooding into the Columbia.
I also learned from their Visit Cedar Creek Instagram page that they also have a Saturday summer market that attracts new visitors from all over the state because of the apples.
I hope to stop by there this week since I don’t have much to do until school starts back up in a month.
That is if I get the job.
My second interview is the day after tomorrow, and my skin is buzzing with anticipation. Considering the population, the job can’t be that competitive. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
Cedar Creek High has around one thousand students, and its elementary, junior high, and high school buildings are on one campus up on the side of the mountain that overlooks the town.
Honestly, I’m crossing my fingers and toes that informing the principal that I was moving here would work well in my favor and give me an edge in securing the position.
I was in Tucson for over a year, and it felt too long. I loved my teaching position there because it was my first professional teaching job, but there came a day when I needed more—desired a different change of pace that I couldn’t find in Tucson.
One Saturday a month ago, I was scrolling through jobs when I spotted the second-grade teaching position with a hiring immediately tag.
It didn’t take much thought. I’m impulsive that way.
I have years of experience bouncing around because of my parents, who are to thank for that side of my personality.
I applied for the job; they did a background check, and not even five minutes into the virtual interview, I told Alaric Sinclair, the principal, that I was moving to Cedar Creek.
It just spewed out of my mouth flawlessly, and it was settled.
I put in my notice with the school back in Tucson and began packing everything in my apartment.
My blood bubbles and pops, excitement and nerves flowing through my veins.
This was probably stupid.
A major move to a place completely different than what I’m used to, with no job.
But damn, it’s elating.
And luckily, the house has grown on me in the last several hours.
A flash of light through the window catches the corner of my eye.
I dodge all the suitcases thrown on the floor, stepping over them to reach the window.
Pulling back the fabric of the curtain more than it was, I peer out into the yard, blanketed by darkness with only a minuscule amount of silver light from the crescent moon above.
I scan the row of houses across the street from mine, cars parked in the driveways, their windows reflecting the solar sidewalk lights.
Just as I’m about to turn back around and finish my task, my pulse batters against the inside of my neck at the black SUV-bodied vehicle on the other side of the street that wasn’t there earlier.
The make and model of the car are nearly impossible to figure out in the dark, but as a hooded figure shifts in the driver’s seat, the hairs on my arms stand on end, sending a bolt of fear that clenches every muscle.
I get closer to the window, telling myself it’s just a vehicle—probably someone the neighbors know.
Being alone in a new place with a house as unnerving as this makes me hyperaware of everything—aware of each little sound and every draft that tickles my skin.
Examining my yard again, my heart thumps rapidly, lurching into my throat. A second figure leans against the willow tree in the shadows. Their hands are tucked into their pockets, their face hidden by a black hood.
My nose caresses the glass to get closer as the doorbell rings.
The soul in my body escapes at the exact moment Rossco throws himself off the bed and chaotically sprints to the front of the house, the wood boards groaning under his weight.
His barking vibrates the floorboards under my bare feet, rattling me more than I already am.
I slowly walk through the dark hallway to the front door, my eyes fastened onto the wood as if I’ll magically get some X-ray vision and see who the hell is on the other side.
It’s the first night, and this solid door is already going to get me murdered. I knew it. Should’ve trusted my gut feeling the second I pulled up to the house.
Nervously, I grab onto Rossco’s collar and hold him back as I sluggishly open the door, my hands tightening around the knob from the terror pulsing through my body.
When the door opens fully, the sight in front of me is even more disturbing.
There’s no black vehicle on the other side of the street.
No hooded figure leaning against my tree.
Just a knee-dropping, gorgeous man grinning at me with a pizza box in his hand.