by Easton, Meg
There were other people in the store, browsing, and she managed to not pay attention to any of them. But, even though she could barely see someone at the edge of her periphery, her eyes still went to one of her fellow shoppers at the far side of the store. The guy’s back was to her, and as she looked at the thick, dark hair with the perfect amount of wave that made you want to run your fingers through it, she whispered, “Please don’t be Ian. Please don’t be Ian.”
And then the man must’ve found what he was looking for, because he turned and started walking toward the back of the store. It was definitely Ian. And from what she could tell, the big bins in the back aisle of the store had drawn his attention, too. Addison glanced around frantically, looking for an escape route. None of the aisles were high enough to hide her. If she darted down one and crouched down to look at something and he miraculously didn’t happen to walk down that same aisle to go to the registers, he would see her from the registers.
So she did the only thing she could do—she crouched down where she stood, with one of the giant bins between him and her. Maybe he didn’t see her. Hopefully. All she had to do was wait for him to finish looking at whatever had drawn his attention, cross her fingers, toes, and anything else crossable, and hope that he didn’t decide to wander to the bin of fuzzy socks that she hid behind. She glanced down the aisle that she was completely exposed to, and saw the young man behind the register, watching her with one eyebrow raised. She gave him a pained smile that probably looked more like a grimace. Holding her breath so she could hear better, she strained her ears to catch any footsteps nearing over the sound of Kelly Clarkson’s Catch My Breath coming from the speakers. Ironic.
No footsteps. Only the sound of nothing holding Kelly back. She wished something would hold Ian back.
Addison spent the summers here when she was ten, eleven, twelve, and thirteen. Ian didn’t spend the full summer visiting his grandparents, like she did, but he did spend all of July there. So four full months together over four years, spending a good chunk of their days playing together. It had given her plenty of opportunities to embarrass herself around him. And every time when she wanted to run and hide under a rock somewhere, he would just continually put himself right in front of her until she had to look at him, and within moments, they would both be laughing.
She crossed her fingers with more force. If he had seen her, he wasn’t the kind of guy who would quietly exit the store, leaving her with dignity. Running off to hide from embarrassment was one thing when you were ten. It was something else entirely when you were a grown woman.
Why did he have to be so good looking now? As ridiculous as it was, she knew that if he was completely unattractive, she wouldn’t be hiding right now.
Hiding was stupid. She didn’t get embarrassed this easily, and she pretty much never dealt with embarrassment by hiding. It was like the girl from her childhood had taken over when she had seen Ian walking down that aisle. She and Ian were neighbors, after all. It wasn’t like she could just avoid him forever. The awkwardness between them would eventually go away. Maybe she should just stand up with her keys in her hand, like she had dropped them and was picking them up, and then face him like the adult that she was.
Or maybe she could’ve done that when she first crouched here, but not when she’d been hiding for a full two minutes. Nope. At some point, she had committed to this winner of a plan.
Was that a noise? A footstep? She held her breath again and strained her ears. Nothing but Kelly Clarkson.
Two loud crashes sounded, followed immediately by hundreds of smaller crashes, and the shock of it made her shoot up from her hiding spot, whipping toward the source of the noise in alarm.
Ian stood next to an endcap of five shelves of Secret deodorant, the top two shelves now lying precariously on the third shelf, and the floor around him was now a sea of baby blue deodorant, a few of them still skittering to their final resting spots.
He met her eyes, glanced at the floor, and then glanced at the employees and other customers all being pulled toward the train wreck at his feet. Then he looked at the shelves, like they had somehow betrayed him, and said, “So much for leaning here, looking all nonchalant, waiting for you to finally stand up.”
He met her eyes again, and there was something about the shocked and sheepish expression on his face that was so adorable she actually burst out with an uncontrolled laugh. And then she quickly tried to stifle it. If their roles had been reversed and she was in the middle of a sea of Va Va Vanilla-scented Secret, she wouldn’t want to be laughed at. But oh how sweet it was to finally have the roles reversed.
Ian chuckled. Then he put his fists on his hips like he was looking down at a puppy that had just torn his favorite novel to shreds and said, “You’re not living up to your name. Thanks a bunch, Secret.”
Then he looked at her, those blue eyes sparkling. For a moment, he glanced toward the registers and his confidence seemed to falter, which was so unlike the Ian she remembered. Then he met her eyes again. “It’s great to see you again, Addi. What do you say we get together for coffee some time and reminisce?”
Back when they were kids, he’d always called her Addi. Never Addison. Hearing him say the name she’d only ever been called by him instantly took her back to their childhood and the rush of feelings of independence, excitement, and adventure. Reminiscing with the only person who had lived it with her actually sounded quite nice.
It wasn’t a date.
It was two long-ago friends chatting about the past. That she could do.
4
Addison
Addison raced from her car to the inn, holding her bag over her head to keep from getting too wet, and then shook it off after she got under the cover of the wraparound porch and went inside. From the giant lobby where guests used to check in—a space that she hadn’t quite figured out what to do with yet—she heard voices coming from the right. So she went into the kitchen and dining area where her aunt used to serve breakfast to the guests. All three of her roommates—Bex, Peyton, and Timini—were gathered around the island, snacking on veggies and hummus.
“Addison,” Peyton said, running forward to greet her, her light brown ponytail bouncing. “I’m so glad you made it!”
“But you’re late,” Bex said with a hand on her hip, somehow looking both relaxed and fierce. Fierce, but not angry. More like she was just stating a fact.
Timini swished her hand like she was brushing away Addison’s lateness. “Fifteen minutes isn’t even late enough to be called ‘late.’” Then she brushed off an errant piece of thread from her shirt.
“I am sorry, though,” Addison said as they all sat down at the table and Peyton went to the oven to get dinner out. “I got distracted by the fuzzy socks at the drugstore, and then I got waylaid by trying to hide from Ian.”
“Hiding? Now, listen up, Adds,” Bex said, putting both hands on the table, like she was about to push herself back out of her seat but didn’t. Instead, it just made her look intense. It was amazing how intimidating the woman could look for as slight as her figure was. “That man is way too fine to be hiding from. Who cares if you embarrassed yourself in front of him once or twice?”
“It wasn’t just at the grocery store. When I was thirteen and came here to stay with my aunt, I experienced my first crush ever—and it was on Ian.”
“See?” Timini said, turning to Bex and Peyton. “I told you there was crushing going on.”
Addison shook her head and just continued her story so they’d get it. “We had spent a lot of time at Quicksand River that summer—and I had found a great rock on the shore. It was five or six inches wide and very flat, so I painted a picture on it of the two of us holding hands and jumping into the river. I daydreamed for hours about how I was going to give it to him, and how he was going to keep it by his pillow every night and think about me.
“And, okay, maybe I psyched myself out about it a bit too much. So when it came time to say goodbye, nerves got the best o
f me and I just said, ‘Here!’ and shoved it into his hands. Then, instead of waiting for him to be touched by my thoughtful gift and reach for my hand and tell how he could never forget me and that he would always treasure it, just like I had planned, I panicked and kissed him on the cheek.”
Bex hooted. “And what did he do?”
Addison shrugged. “I don’t know. I saw the shocked look on his face for about half a second, then I turned and ran. I hopped into my aunt’s car, we drove to the airport, and I didn’t see him again until four weeks ago at the grocery store. And that,”—she said, spreading her arms like she was presenting an artifact for all to see—“was the beginning of the awkward phase of our relationship. Thirteen years later, and it’s still going strong.”
“You know,” Bex said as she leaned forward and grabbed a roll that looked freshly baked from a basket on the table, “if you see him enough, it’ll dilute your percentage of embarrassing moments with him.”
“I mean, you’d hope it would,” Timini said, a teasing gleam in her eye. “Unless your percentage is unnaturally high to begin with.”
“No one’s is that high,” Peyton said as she nestled a pan of Mushroom Florentine pasta in between the rolls and a dish of asparagus.
“Or,” Addison said, dragging out the word, “I could see him, hide behind a bin of fuzzy socks like I’m five, and he could accidentally send crashing to the ground and spilling across the back of The Oregon Trail Drugstore hundreds of sticks of deodorant, just when he was trying to catch me in the embarrassing moment.”
The laughter that burst out of all three women just made Addison’s heart do a happy dance all over again, just thinking of the incident.
Bex shook her head. “That is one effective way of lowering the percentage, girl. So are you going to stop hiding from him?”
Addison nodded as she dished herself up some pasta. “Yeah. I am now officially fine with us being neighbors who were friends once upon a time.”
“Nothing more?” Peyton asked, a look on her face like she was a kid asking for a cookie, but knowing the answer was going to be no.
“Nothing more. We all made a pact not to fall in love that night we all decided to be roommates, remember?”
Peyton froze in the middle of dishing up her pasta. “Only because we were all coming off bad breakups. But oh my lands, we aren’t actually sticking to that pact, are we?”
“I am,” Timini said as she grabbed the dish of asparagus. “But Bex isn’t.”
“The pact is to not fall in love,” Bex said. “And I’m as dedicated to it now as I was then. I can date all I want without falling in love.”
Addison stabbed a bite of the pasta dish, getting pasta, mushroom, and spinach all together in one bite, and put it in her mouth. It was so creamy without being heavy, the flavors all perfectly combining. “Oh my, Peyton. No wonder you’re so successful at your business!”
“Truth,” Bex said. “I would hire you to be my personal chef any day, Pey.”
Peyton seemed both annoyed at the name Bex had been calling her since the day she moved in and pleased at the compliments. “How about your business, Addison? You’ve been pretty busy this past week!”
Addison swallowed the bite she was relishing. “I am already booked out for the next few weeks! I tell you, my sister is a genius at websites and branding and marketing.” It was a relief, really. She hadn’t ever really pictured herself running her own business, and hadn’t been able to understand why people would really want to turn down a steady paycheck from a good employer. Starting the business took almost as big of a leap of faith as moving across the country by herself did. She still couldn’t believe that Chloe managed to talk her into chasing a dream so big and so uncertain, especially when she wasn’t going to be in the country to help her run it.
“Speaking of branding,” Timini said, pointing her fork at each of them, “who decided to brand themselves as the Post-it Queen?”
Addison chuckled. She had run into more than a few in the past five days.
Bex pointed her fork at Timini, with a bite of Florentine already on it. “We only have these dinners once a week. Sticky notes are a good way to communicate issues in between. Like to let someone know it’s annoying when people leave stacks of fabric and sewing machines on the tables in here.”
“This room has half a dozen small tables. We only need this big one to eat on.”
Maybe Addison should’ve weighed in on the conversation, since they were working out things that pertained to all of them, but she just heard the faint sound of the text tone she had set for only one person—her ex. She wished she would’ve put her phone on the check-in counter in the lobby, like she had her purse and bag from the drugstore. But since it was right here in her pocket and she therefore knew the text came in, she couldn’t not read it. It was the first time he had texted since they broke up six weeks ago.
So she pulled the phone out of her pocket and stared at it, not being able to process the words.
“Addison!” Peyton and Bex both yelled her name at the same time, and as she looked up, she realized that they must’ve said her name several times. She didn’t know what look was on her face right then, but she didn’t know how to explain it other than to just tell the truth.
“My ex, Matthew, just texted.”
“Oh, no,” Bex said, shaking her head.
Timini leaned forward. “Does he text often?”
“What did he say?” Peyton asked.
Addison shook her head. “He doesn’t. Not since we broke up.” She looked back down at the text, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard. “He said he heard that I moved here, and asked how I’m liking it. How should I respond?”
All three women shouted that she shouldn’t and just as she looked back up, a question on her face, Bex leaned forward and yanked the phone out of her hands.
“Don’t do it!” Peyton yelled. “It’s a trap.”
Addison looked at where Bex was setting her phone down on the table, screen side down, and then looked at each woman’s face, confused. “How is saying something like ‘I’m doing great. Thank you for asking’ a trap?”
“Because, honey,” Bex said, “then you’ll start thinking about him again.”
Peyton nodded. “And wondering how he’s doing.”
“Before you know it,” Timini said, throwing her arms up in the air, “you’re wondering if you made a mistake and if you should try to work things out.”
“I’m not going to—”
“Do you know what she needs?” Bex asked. “A rebound guy.”
“Definitely,” Timini said, and then turned to Addison. “Our neighbor would be perfect for it. You’re clearly attracted to him.”
“No.” She figured they got that her response was about him being the perfect rebound, because she was clearly attracted to him. She hadn’t realized they had noticed, but it wasn’t like she could deny it. Ian was also sweet and fun and so totally, absolutely not what she needed right now. Even if the thought of dating him caused a happy fluttering in her stomach and spontaneous daydreams of what it would be like to be wrapped in his arms.
Yeah. Rebound dating him was the worst idea ever.
“You should!” Peyton said. “Maybe just choose some random guy. Did you know that rebound relationships are actually healthy?”
Addison rolled her eyes.
“No, it’s true!” Peyton ticked off the items on her fingers as she said them. “They help you to move on and recover faster, they improve self-esteem and well-being, and they combat loneliness.”
Bex put her hand on Addison’s phone. “And they prevent unhealthy reunions with exes.”
“Plus,” Timini said, “they help you figure out what kind of guy complements you. Super helpful.”
Addison stabbed a mushroom with her fork. “You all forgot to mention that rebound dating can keep you from properly dealing with the breakup. That’s why rebound relationships almost never work out.” And Matthew still crossed her
mind much too much for her to believe she was ready for a new relationship.
All three women opened their mouths, like they were going to say something to counter it, so she headed them off with a hand like a stop sign held by a very insistent crossing guard. “Rebound relationships tend to be short. My interactions with Ian have been awkward and embarrassing enough—do you really think it’s a good idea to get into a short relationship with a guy who is our next door neighbor, who I’ll still have to see practically every day?”
Thoughts of dating Ian were just as exciting now as they were at age eleven. Not that it was any more possible now than it was then—sure, she was old enough to date now, but dating took a desire to date from both people. Just the thoughts of how awful it would be to have a quick relationship with Ian, and then to bump into him everywhere, made the tingling at the back of her neck and the tightening in her chest even stronger than when she kissed his cheek and ran off after putting the painted stone in his hand as a kid.
“You’re right,” Peyton said. “Not our neighbor then. How about some random guy?”
Addison cocked her head to the side, trying to figure out why Peyton was being weird. “What aren’t you saying?”
“I just think she should fall for anyone else. Just not Ian.”
“Why?” Timini asked. “We already know she’s attracted to him.”
Peyton set her fork down and let out huff of a breath. “Okay. I’ll say this and then nothing more, because I don’t even know enough to tell anything more. At the restaurant I used to work at, one of my coworkers was roommates with this girl Zoe, and Zoe dated Ian. They were pretty serious. I think they might have even been talking about getting married. I saw my friend at the gym a couple of weeks ago and asked how her roommate was doing, and she said they just broke up. Anyway, it sounds like he took the breakup pretty much a thousand times harder than you are taking your breakup with Matthew, and I am pretty sure that two people both having rebound relationships with each other isn’t the best idea ever. Especially when one of them probably isn’t even close to being ready.”