A Fresh Start

by Lexi Bissen

  Once we’re on the road, I ask, “So what were you thinking about this project?” I figure it’s a safe topic.

  “Well, I was actually thinking up some ideas this afternoon. What I was thinking is we could write our rough draft on our own so we could get a base for what we are going to write about and then have each other read it over and see how it sounds. That way, if we see something wrong, we can talk about it together.”

  I nod my head in agreement. “Okay, that sounds good. When did you want to have these rough drafts done by?”

  She reaches over to the radio and turns down the music. Thank god. “I don’t want to wait until the last minute. It’s the first assignment of the semester, so I would like to start it as soon as possible, if that’s okay. I think it would be better for both of us to get this out of the way early on.”

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.” School has never been one of my favorite things, so this assignment isn’t something I’m looking forward to.

  We pull up into my driveway and Ronnie puts the truck in park. “You aren’t exactly interested in school much are you.” She phrases it like a statement.

  I look over at her and smirk. “What? Did my enthusiastic response give it away?”

  She flashes her white teeth and lets out the cutest fucking giggle I’ve ever heard. I’ve always found it annoying when girls giggle, but maybe it was because they were just doing it to get something from me. Ronnie’s is genuine.

  “Well, the sigh you had at the end kind of gave it away. But that’s okay. School isn’t everyone’s thing.” Even though Ronnie seems like a straight A student from what Mr. Henry said when I talked to him, she doesn’t act “in your face” about it.

  “Definitely not for me,” I mumble.

  She pulls up into my uncle’s driveway and I reach in the back for my book bag. I’m just about to head out of the truck when Ronnie stops me. “Wait. Is this Officer Dan’s house? Why are you living here?”

  “Oh, well, he’s kind of my uncle. I actually just found out a couple months ago.” I’m hoping that’s enough of an answer for her and she drops it.

  “Why are you living with him? I didn’t even know he had siblings, much less a nephew.” Of course, she’d have more questions. Women always do.

  “Welcome to the club of unanswered questions. But as for the living with him part, that falls under the category of things I’d rather not talk about.” I get the door open without her saying anything else. I shut it, then lean into the window. “Have a good night, princess. See you tomorrow.”

  Saturday afternoon I decide to head to my favorite spot. I park my truck in a small patch of grass beside the wooden walkway leading to the beach. The smell of the ocean hits me as soon as I get out of my truck and I can’t help but smile. This is my paradise. While most students are in a tiny desk at the library or in their rooms doing homework, I enjoy the fresh air and sunshine while I do mine. There’s something about the sounds of the ocean and the breeze that gets the juices flowing for me.

  Collecting my bag from the truck, I make sure my computer and notebook are tucked away safely before I head toward the picnic tables, hoping to be able to get a layout for my paper while I’m here. The faster I get this assignment done, the sooner I won’t have to be partners with Gibson anymore.

  As the picnic tables come into view, I notice a large figure sitting at one of them. Well, drats. This place is usually empty and I was hoping not to have to share it with anyone. Instead of stewing over the intruder, I move over to the second table. Luckily, they’re far enough away, we won’t bother each other.

  I keep my head down as I make my way through the sand. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  I jerk my head up at the harsh tone and my eyes connect with Gibson’s. They are captivating, brighter and even more beautiful in the sun.

  I cock my hip out and narrow my eyes at him. “Watch the tone, mister. You’re in my place, so I should be the one asking you why you’re here.”

  He quickly shuts his laptop, as if he’s trying to hide what’s on it. “Your place? What do you mean your place?” he asks.

  “Well, it’s not my place exactly. It’s just where I come to read and get away from everything,” I answer. Only one person knows about this place and I feel really strange and exposed having Gibson know about it now. “How did you find out about it anyway?”

  He runs his hand through his thick, black hair and I can’t help but follow the movement with my eyes. “I was talking with my uncle the other night about this assignment. He said a good place to work on it would be this beach. He runs most nights and says he sees some girl out here writing away in her notebook or typing on her computer. I figured fresh air could help with getting this stupid thing done.” He looks to my backpack. “Wait. Are you here most nights? Is that who he was talking about?”

  “What I do with my spare time is beside the point. You can’t be here when I’m writing. It’ll distract me.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I know I set myself up for him.

  Gibson raises a dark eyebrow. “I distract you, huh?” he asks in a deep voice.

  Foot, meet mouth. I can’t backtrack my way out of this one. “That’s not what I meant. I just mean having you, or any other person, around wouldn’t help with my creative juices. Not just you in particular. Anyone …anyone at all.” I shut my mouth and tighten my lips into a line to prevent myself from rambling any more.

  He leans forward and puts his arms on the table, giving me a nice view of his muscular, colorful arm. “So, if any person distracts you from your ‘creative juices’, does that mean you would have told them to leave your spot as well?”

  “No,” I say, and quickly realize my mistake. Gibson gives me a knowing smile, making the metal ring in the center of his lip more noticeable.

  “Then it’s settled. We’ll both stay here and work separately. That’s okay, right? Unless there’s another reason you wouldn’t want me to stay here?” he asks.

  I let out a soft sigh and purse my lips. He expects me to either leave or tell him why I don’t want to work with him here, but what he doesn’t know is I don’t give in easily. Growing up with two older brothers means I know how to stand my ground.

  I walk over to the picnic table next to his and lay my book bag down. “Not a problem at all. Just try to keep it down. I like listening to nature while I’m working.”

  He shakes his head and smiles. “Whatever you say, princess.” Then he opens his computer and turns his focus back to what he was working on.

  I take a deep breath and begin getting my stuff out of my book bag. For some reason, nervousness starts to kick in. I feel exposed starting this project with him nearby—which is stupid since he’ll have to read this once I’m finished. No one knows about me wanting to leave this town besides Allen. The only reason he does is because he’s the one who convinced me to apply to UNF. Without him, I’d be picking out classes at the local community college and trading in my part-time job at Chili’s for a full-time one.

  Gibson must have sensed my little panic attack because from a distance, he asks if I’m okay. I look up to him to him and nod my head. He raises his dark eyebrow, but lets it go and returns to his laptop.

  I open up my own and get out my notebook and pen while waiting for the sign-in screen to come up. Once I’m logged in, I open Word and get a fresh sheet of notebook paper ready for some notes.

  Starting a paper is always the hardest part. I try to do an outline of what I’m writing and where I want it to go first so I have a direction to follow once I start typing.

  Finishing the layout is easier than I thought it would be and I complete it within half an hour of getting here. What surprises me even more is how I don’t get distracted by Gibson one bit. That could be because I’m trying really hard not to stare at him. I look at my layout for a quick reference and then begin typing away on my laptop.

  I get in the zone with creating the layout, ideas popping in and out of my head. I’m on
a roll when I notice something out of the corner of my eye. Glancing away from the computer, my eyes come into view of Gibson. He’s not just sitting at the table anymore—no, he’s stretching. His muscular arms are raised above his head as he crosses his fingers together, forcing them to crack.

  I try to tear my eyes away, I really do, but I don’t know any woman on this planet who would be able to take her eyes off this beautiful man. Gibson is a work of art. His jet black hair, short on the sides, yet long enough to run your hands through, matches his deep green eyes perfectly. I focus in on one of his arms while it’s up in the air, trying to make out the colorful images. I never thought I would be the kind of girl who’s attracted to a guy with tattoos, but Gibson’s interest me. They make me want to get up close, inspect each and every one, and ask about the meanings behind them, if there are any.

  I follow the movement of his arms as they come back down to the table and catch the smirk on his face. Busted. Again. I quickly divert my eyes to my laptop as if nothing happened, just waiting for him to call me out, and find myself surprised when he doesn’t say anything. Even though I’ve only known Gibson a few days, he is definitely the type of guy who takes an opportunity to mess with me about checking him out.

  Focusing on my outline, I begin writing the first paragraph and then move right on to the second. Halfway through the third, a piece of balled up paper lands on the table right beside my computer. I look up to find Gibson’s eyes on his work. When I grab the paper and unfold it, there’s sloppy handwriting inside.

  Nice shorts.

  I roll my eyes at his annoying interruption, catching more writing at the bottom of the note.

  Don’t roll your eyes at me, princess. I was only giving you a compliment.

  I laugh out loud. Somehow, he seems to already know me in the short time we’ve spent together. I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or not.

  An hour goes by without either of us saying a word and I find it difficult to focus after breaking my no-staring-at-Gibson streak. I only get about four hundred words written, which is just the start of my story. If Gibson is here every time I come to write, this is going to be a struggle.

  Gibson looks at the time on his phone and starts to pack his laptop into his bag. When I check the time myself, I realize it’s just after four in the afternoon. I sigh. I’ve been here for over two hours and have barely done anything...and I’m going to be late meeting Allen at Starbucks after his Chili’s shift.

  I quickly gather up my belongings and shove them into my bag. After zipping my back pack closed, I stand to leave. Gibson is standing by the exit, waiting for me.

  I walk up to him and the flutter in my lower stomach gets more intense with every step I take. This feeling I get needs to stop. I don’t like it and I really shouldn’t be feeling this way about him. He’s the bad boy. The rock star’s son. Having feelings for Gibson will only end in heartbreak, and I’m more of a happily ever after girl.

  When I approach Gibson, he smiles down at me and all thoughts of bad boys and rock stars leave me. “I just want to say I won’t be bringing up the fact that you seem to enjoy getting lost in all my hotness from now on. It’s become a problem for you and I don’t want to embarrass you anymore than I already have. Even though I do love the way your face gets all red when I do.” He reaches out, runs his thumb across my cheek, and then drops his hand. Heat creeps across my skin where Gibson’s thumb left a trail.

  No guy has ever made me blush before. I’m not a fan of it. Blushing is a sure fire way for Gibson to know he’s affecting me. I need to figure out a way to control that on top of the problem I’m having with staring at him. This could be difficult.

  I clutch the strap of my bag and walk past him with a huff. I glance back to see if he’s following me and sure enough, he isn’t. What he is doing is staring at my ass and biting his lip. That’s not okay. I spin around, breaking his contact with my behind. He jerks his head up and smiles at me. Resist the smile, Ronnie.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I demand.

  Gibson begins walking toward me as he answers, “I figured every time I catch you checking out my amazing body, I should only return the favor by taking in as much of yours as I can.” He walks past me and all I can do is stare.

  As he makes it to the sidewalk, he yells out, “See you Monday, princess.” I blow out a breath and continue toward my truck. For the first time ever, I’m looking forward to a Monday. Resisting this bad boy may be harder than I thought.

  With the first week of school out of the way, teachers get straight to business and jump right into lessons. It’s now Thursday and I haven’t had any time to myself between school and work. On the bright side, I have off until Sunday.

  Allen and I make our way to an open table in the lunch room and set our food down. Gibson has been eating with us—or I should say drinking since he only has an energy drink—most of the week, but only for the second half. I know he has gym before lunch, so maybe he showers first.

  I begin peeling away at the paper to get to the yumminess that is my club sandwich when Allen starts talking. “Did you hear about Missy Walters’ party tomorrow night?” he asks.

  I pause what I’m doing and look at him. “Why would she tell me about it? She made sure to have it known to everyone she doesn’t like me after I told Sean she had crabs last year.” Sean turned her down when she asked him out at the beginning of our junior year. Missy came up with the bright idea of trying to become my best friend to get close to him. She would sit with me in each class we had together and at lunch. It was quite entertaining, actually. She tried really hard and I just didn’t have the heart to tell her I wasn’t a dumbass. Then I heard her talking with some of her cheerleader friends about how I was eating out of the palm of her hand and she’d get me to set her and Sean up in no time. I laughed while walking out of the locker room. I think she knew then I was on to her. Ever since that little incident, she hasn’t been a real fan of me.

  Allen rolls his eyes. “Just because Prissy Missy doesn’t like my Itty-Bitty doesn’t mean we aren’t going to her party. She’s having a bonfire in her backyard. Her parents are going away for their anniversary. Plus, it will be far enough away that Officer Dan wouldn’t notice the smoke. Remember last time he broke up one of the parties? This is probably going to be the only party of the year. We can’t miss the only party!” he whines, and I want to tell him fine just so I don’t have to hear that again.

  “You just want me as your beer pong partner so you aren’t always losing.”

  Allen sits up a little taller in his chair. “I have no clue what you are talking about. I am the beer pong champion.”

  I lean forward and raise my eyebrow. “Oh really? How many of those cups did you make, mister? If I remember correctly, I was the one who made every. Single. Shot.”

  “I had to have made at least one.” He sounds surprised, like he didn’t know he sucks at beer pong.

  I shake my head. “No, sweetie. You had way too many fireball shots beforehand to throw the ball in the right direction.” I decided to stay relatively sober that night. When Allen is DD, he usually forgets and we end up having to ride home with Sean and Rodger. I’m not letting that happen tomorrow with the way Rodger has been acting.

  I go back to my turkey on wheat while Allen tries to piece together what really happened at that party. “All right, I’ll go tomorrow night. Should we just say I’m DD instead of going through the motions of you acting like you’ll stay sober?”

  He bows his head in shame. “That’s probably for the best.” We both start digging into our food.

  Once I take my last bite, Gibson walks into the lunchroom with Missy by his side, carrying her gym bag.

  I keep a close eye, but try not to look like I’m watching their every movement. Missy has on that fake smile she always used with me last year. She’s doing the typical things girls do when they flirt: flip hair, cover your mouth when you giggle, lay your hand on the guy’s arm. She�
�s touching his arm. Not only is Missy touching Gibson’s arm, she isn’t letting go. Something inside me feels protective and makes me want to jump out of my seat, snatch him away from her, and wash his arm of any trace of her on it. I already don’t like the feelings this bad boy gives me, and now he has me feeling…jealous? Is that what this is?

  Allen calls my name, snapping my eyes away from them. I make eye contact and catch him smiling at me. “What? Why are you smiling?” I ask.

  He whistles, casually. “Oh, nothing. I’m just waiting to see how long it takes you to jump from your seat and attack Missy.”

  Play it cool, Ronnie. Don’t let him know that’s exactly what you were thinking of doing. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. I was just staring outside at the change in weather. Can you believe fall is so close to being here?”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t you try to distract me with my favorite season, little lady. No amount of fall colors and pumpkin spice will keep me from calling you out on your first jealous episode,” he says in his “dad voice”.

  I open my mouth to defend myself when Gibson walks up to the table. Snapping it closed, I look around him to make sure Missy isn’t near. I see her heading in the opposite direction toward her table of cheerleaders and some football players. I roll my eyes, not surprised by how cliché she is.

  Gibson takes a seat next to me and pulls out his liquid lunch. After he takes his first sip, he looks to Allen and me. “Hey, guys.”

  “Hey,” we both say, smiling.

  The silence at the table is starting to make me fidget. I don’t do well with awkward and the desire to ask Gibson about his conversation with Missy is weighing on me. I can’t hold it in. “So, what were you and Missy talking about?” I ask, hoping I sound casual.

  Gibson sets his drink down midway to his mouth and Allen leans forward so he can listen better. “Who’s Missy?” Gibson asks, pinching his eyebrows together.