Chapter 30 #2
I force thoughts of college and the future from my mind, to be present in my new life, with these incredible people I consider my friends.
It’s been amazingly easy to immerse myself in life at Blue Lake.
The place, the work, the beauty of it all and the relationships I’m making.
For the first time, I feel like I truly belong.
Like people see me and get me. And like me—for me.
But if I pull back the lens a bit, what am I doing?
Am I just going to hide out here in Blue Lake forever?
Work at the gym and the café, tend to campers every season?
Be a small-town girl, content with small-town life?
I mean I could become a writer anywhere, any time.
I don’t even need a degree to do it. But learning, being in a classroom, it gives me all the feels.
There was a time not so long ago I couldn’t wait to get to a big campus and disappear among the throngs of students.
Now all I want to do is work out and play house with this magnetic man next to me.
Am I selling out for the first guy to ever pay attention to me?
I don’t want to believe that. I love my life here.
Maybe dreams have a way of changing over time.
We grow up and life changes us—our desires, goals, dreams.
Could I be content to learn online?
Online high school was one thing. It stopped being challenging anyway.
The assignments were beyond easy and, because of that, the instructor let me grind out the rest of my assignments and turn them all in at once.
I’m now technically and quietly a high school graduate.
I didn’t tell anyone—not even Via. I just did it.
I appreciate the efficiency of getting my diploma through remote learning.
But college? Part of the allure is going away and having the college experience.
I’m not one for rushing sororities or anything, but there was a time in the recent past where I couldn’t wait to study in those gorgeous libraries, sit in lecture halls, listen to thought-provoking discussions, expand my knowledge of and gain insight on the world around me.
Maybe I’m more like my mom than I like to think and have a little wanderlust of my own.
“Well, if you’re sure you can handle locking up, we’ll get out of here.” So much for dialing down my thoughts of the future. I zero back in on Pete and Shelley saying their goodbyes and Julian standing, shaking hands with Pete and assuring him he’d take care of everything.
“Come on, boys, time to go.” Shelley gathers items strewn about by her “gremlins,” as she calls them, while saying goodbye to all of us and inviting us to have café breakfast with them before work tomorrow.
They kind of declare themselves our unofficial parents, although I guess they’re only ten or fifteen years older than us.
As they herd their boys toward the parking lot and their vehicle, Julian asks Noah to help him lock up. When they walk away, Lilly pounces. “Girl, what’s going on with you? You’re so quiet. Tell Auntie Lilly what’s going on.”
“Eww, it creeps me out when you call yourself that. I’m technically older than you are anyway.
And I’m good. Just got in my head about the future.
All the college talk. I had it all planned out until I came here.
I guess I’m feeling a little lost. But on the other hand, nothing in my life has ever felt more like home than this place feels right now.
I’m just in my feels right now. Ignore me. ”
“Well, this place has a way of doing that to people. My advice—I know you didn’t ask, but when has that ever stopped me?”
I arch an eyebrow and wait for her to continue.
“Don’t overthink it. Things have a way of working out the way they’re supposed to.
And maybe for the first time in your life, you’re not supposed to have it all figured out, planned, scheduled.
” She shrugs her shoulders with her hands out on either side.
“Except for breakfast. Don’t be late or there won’t be any left.
” With that, she hugs me and kisses me on my cheek.
“Love you, Davis. I’m glad you’re here. See you tomorrow. ”
“Night, Lilly. Thanks.”
“You can repay me with tea. I’m gonna want details.” She smirks and blows me a kiss as she spins toward the parking lot where Noah waits by his truck.
After she turns to go, I stand, hugging myself, staring at the blackness of the lake, the chirp of crickets competing with the muted voices of settling campers.
I remain contemplative after the debate over best college towns.
I’ve mostly put all thoughts of my future out of my mind when I moved here.
I only applied to a few schools—all in California and mostly down south.
I didn’t even know if I got into any. The letters would’ve come to Oak Valley.
And since arriving, I’ve been too preoccupied with my new life (and roommate) to worry about any of it.
Part of me wants to freeze time and let it always stay this simple and peaceful. Logical me knew it couldn’t.
Warm arms snake around me from behind. I can smell his now familiar scent before he speaks a word and lean back into his chest. Everything about him makes my nervous system exhale.
My back melts into his chest as I lock my arms over his.
His lips graze my ear and my head tilts to them instinctively.
“I kinda need to stay here tonight as the camp host. Wanna join me? Or should I drive you back to Allie’s?” When I don’t answer right away, he continues. “I mean, I want you to stay. If you want to. I want—”
“Tell me,” I cut him off, turning in his arms. “What do you want?” I ask, surprising myself but needing to hear the words.
“I want you with me, next to me.”
I smile in response, even though he can’t see my face in the dark. His heartbeat thuds steadily in the ear pressed to his chest. “Okay.” I feel his exhale like he held his breath waiting for my reply.
“Do you need to get anything from Allie’s?”
“No, Lilly and I brought a change of clothes because we weren’t sure what was on the agenda for tonight.” I add with a low laugh, “We all technically still owe each other a cliff jump, but I’m not reminding them.”
“Me neither.” His deep chuckle rumbles against my cheek.
As I raise my face to his, he moves a lock of my hair behind my ear, letting his fingers skim my cheek.
He dips his head and touches his lips to mine, so softly I almost wonder if I imagined it, but my lips tingle in the cooling air where his leave a touch of moisture.
His fingers trail down my cheek to my neck, across my shoulder and down my arm as lightly as his lips touched mine. Goose bumps follow his trail.
Once his hand reaches mine, he laces our fingers, turns and pulls me toward him. In a pseudo dance move, he swings our joined hands across my body and over my head, releases my hand and drapes his arm around my shoulders as we walk toward his apartment.
I wrap my arm low around his waist as we walk and want to overanalyze how normal it all feels.
Because I’ve never done anything like this in my life.
But I’ve read about it plenty. It’s not lost on me that Julian is as epic as any book boyfriend I’ve ever fantasized about.
I catch myself holding my breath waiting for it all to vaporize before my eyes. Him. Blue Lake. All of it.
Has my life taught me not to trust the good times?
Nothing lasts forever and people don’t stay.
That’s what life has taught me so far. I want to hold on to him and this moment so tightly, but I’m equally scared to want or need it too much in case it goes away.
I make my fingers unclench the side of his shirt and slide my hand down and hook two fingers on the side pocket of his joggers.
While his thumb and index finger draw lazy circles on the ball of my shoulder, we walk in silence.
Not awkward silence, peaceful silence. And I am at peace, aside from my constant internal dialogue that I’ve learned to function around and mostly ignore.
***
Stepping into his apartment, I take in the low lights—a lamp on the end table, a muted can light over the kitchen sink, the moonlight pouring in from the open slider. It’s giving romantic vibes without the thirst, and it’s working. Every cell in my body exhales as I step over the threshold.
“Hungry?” He drops his arm from my shoulders and ushers me inside. He stands just behind me when he asks.
I feel like I know him so well now. At least his energy, if not a lot of life details. We’re both good at glazing over the specifics while sharing big moments of our pasts. Honesty without the vulnerability, I guess. “Maybe a little. Are you?”
His baritone chuckle is his only reply. He clears his throat. “I, uh, raided Brew for some snacks—cheese, olives, bread. Shelley made a little snack board for me to take home because we were all so busy, no one stopped to eat.”
My stomach growls as he talks. With a small laugh he tugs me by the hand into the kitchen.
Whether it’s the low lights, the familiar smell of his place—which smells like him—or the man himself, I tell myself to calm the hell down.
My anticipation is palpable. To feign calmness, I hoist myself up onto the island bar, dangling my legs as he rummages through the fridge.
He sets the snack board on the counter next to me and pulls the wrapping off the top.
I reach down for an olive and pop one into my mouth.
When I look up, he’s watching my mouth and visibly swallows as I do.
I lick my bottom lip as he turns back to the fridge and produces a bottle of champagne.
“Are we celebrating something?” I search his face, curious.