Page 13 of Again, In Autumn

If Adam hadn’t touched me with a gentleness I hadn’t felt since my mother or loved me without me giving me a reason to, then I could move past it. Past him. Past the future plans we attempted to make in rushed, youthful fear.

I have a lot of cobwebs to clear out.

Chapter Four

The drive to Captain’s Lake, North Carolina, takes three hours. It’s a winding, uncomfortable drive through the mountains, triggering my car sickness. Leaves fly through my headlights in the dark, and I stop for a Coke and some mints.

A three-and-a-half-hour drive.

Before I get to the house, I stop at The Square Meal, the little market in Loxley, the nearest town to Captain’s Lake. David’s family lives in this town, and he, his parents and his two younger sisters made little dent in the population of year-round residents.

Giant, expensive vacation homes line the mountainous region around the lake, and Loxley takes this into consideration, which is why the brick-paved downtown streets are decorated with Christmas decorations already: icy blue banners, lights swinging from lamp post to lamp post, an undecorated tree waiting in the square. A few mums remain on storefront stoops. Signs are taped to the doors with Thanksgiving day hours.

I walk inside the market, collecting a wicker basket at the entrance and waving to the man at the small deli.

It’s as warm as I remember. Tiled floors, shiplap walls, fresh flowers, and wooden shelves with essentials. I walk down the aisles, smiling at the assortment of organic, locally sourced honey and off-brand Doritos.

During the summer, David worked here on and off, and we would ride our bikes up to see him before he and Francesca started dating at sixteen. They’d flirt at the register, and I’d pick up baking supplies, like I’m doing now.

Flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, chocolate, nuts. I also grab some oil, butter, milk, and eggs because the house’s pantry staples might still be edible, but I don’t want to take any chances.

I turn the corner and catch my breath as the song playing overhead changes. If Heddy thinks the Universe is doing this, then he/she and I need to have a little chat.

I squint, trying to block out the sound of Adam’s voice because when I hear his voice, I see his face, which isn’t hard to do in this building.

The first time I met him was for five minutes in the backyard. The second time was in the breakfast items aisle.

Swinging his basket and singing to himself, he had stopped short when he saw me, recognition pouring over his face.

He wore dark blue shorts with holes in the pockets and duct tape patching tears in the hem. His loose striped shirt hadn’t been buttoned properly, leaving the right side of his chest exposed to a silver chain and tan, freckled skin. His boat shoes were scuffed, and his fingertips and nails were dirty.

With such an appearance, it’d be easy not to think much of him. However, when my eyes finally passed the disheveled clothing, he made my heart stop.

It wasn’t just the smooth squareness of his clean-shaven blemish-free jaw, the dark brown eyes lined with black lashes, or the thick, furrowed eyebrows. More than anything, I was attracted to the rumpled chocolate-brown hair and hodgepodge outfit he wore so casually, as if it didn’t matter that he hadn’t brushed his hair or picked clothes that matched.

I didn’t put a ton of effort into my summer lake attire, either, but I lacked Adam’s natural charisma.

If a stranger looked at my appearance the way I judged him then, I would have passed over my basket, slunk into the smallest possible form, and crawled away, expecting to be booed and sprayed with salt.

Not Adam. That day, he shifted his weight, the chain sliding over a wide collarbone, his mouth half raising to a smile.

“You’re my neighbor,” he said.

“Yes,” I replied, barely able to look at him.

My nervousness didn’t have anything to do with being eighteen and finding him attractive – I’d long gotten over that dry-mouthed, half-blacking out in front of a boy phase – but rather because of my sister’s stern warning.

Even though I merely said ‘hello’ to him the day before, Francesca had dragged me into the kitchen immediately and just said, “No. Just no. Don’t even think about it.”

Don’t even think about dating our hot new neighbor on the last summer of our sisterhood. This summer is about you and me, Vienna. No distractions.

Adam peered his eyes into my basket and asked me, “What are you buying?”

I decided not to be weird, since I promised my sister I wasn’t interested and would not go out with him, were such a fine specimen of man interested in my mystery thigh bruises and cropped Care Bears shirt.

“Um, stuff for chocolate chip cookies,” I answered.

Adam nodded, his mouth on the verge of saying something.

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