Page 8 of Summer with a Player

Taking the offered seat, I slide my sunglasses over my eyes, leaning back into the comfortable lounge chair. "Just thinking," I admit quietly. A silence passes amongst us. Comfortable silence. That's what I've learned to love about Florence and this tiny home community; there's no pressure, no urgency.

Everyone here is retired, all except for me at least. They're mostly old souls looking for peace by the ocean side. But they let me in anyway despite being only twenty-six. They took me under their wings when I needed it most; especially Florence.

She’s a firecracker in senior citizen clothing. At seventy-three, she has more spirit and fight than anyone I know. She's the unofficial watchwoman of our community, always keeping an eye out for trouble. Her khaki pants and polo shirts are a staple wardrobe item, as regular as the sunsets we often watch in each other’s company.

"Thinking about your new friend?" she asks with a smile.

I shrug noncommittally, shifting a little in my seat. "Maybe."

Florence and I struck up an unlikely friendship three years ago when I first moved here after my parents’ passing. This community allowed me to live here due to extenuatingcircumstances - being an orphan at six tends to pull on people's heartstrings. In return, I help them out as much as I can.

She's become more than just a neighbor; she's my closest friend. Her presence fills the void left by my own mother's absence.

Florence gives my hand a squeeze as we bask in a comfortable silence and warm sunshine.

"You're young, Elle," Florence's voice breaks through my thoughts. "Let yourself live a little. Love a little." Her words resonate with me, echoing straight to my heart.

"Thanks, Florence," I say, forcing a smile. The pool's clear water looks inviting, but I don’t feel like getting in. Instead, people laugh and chat around us, but it all feels distant, like I'm watching the world through a foggy window.

I grab a tattered romance paperback from my bag, hoping the pages will transport me away from the turmoil inside. As I flip through the novel, I’m envious of the protagonist who falls so effortlessly into love. Why can't I have that? Why do I have to be so damn scared?

"Whatcha reading there?" Florence asks, peering over at the cover.

"Just some spicy romance novel," I admit with a slight blush. "A guilty pleasure, I guess."

"Nothing wrong with that," she chuckles, her eyes bright with knowledge. "Sometimes we all need a little escape."

As I continue reading, I imagine Asher as the hero sweeping the heroine off her feet. My heart clenches as I push the image away. I won't let myself fall into that trap. I've come too far to let my guard down now.

"Elle, you're chewing your thumb again," Florence notes gently. "Stop worrying about life. Just rest your mind and enjoy your time."

"Yeah, you're right," I sigh, trying to let go of my inner turmoil. “I’m going to head home. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“Have a good night, dear,” she replies.

On my short walk home, there’s a sense of belonging here. But even in this paradise, there's no escaping the thoughts that haunt me.

Once inside my cozy sanctuary, I settle onto the large couch cushions and pick up where I left off in the novel. The hero's name has changed from what it was typed as to Asher somewhere along the page flips. Their sex unfolds before me, each word igniting a fire in my core.

The heroine wraps her legs around Asher's waist as he lifts her against the wall, their bodies moving in sync. His strong hands explore every inch of her, leaving trails of heat in their wake. Hermoans grow louder with each delicious thrust, and she clings to him as if he's the only thing keeping her grounded.

I get lost in the fantasy, my breath hitching as the scene plays out in detail. My body craves the kind of intense need the characters share, but I push the lust away, reminding myself that it's just a story.

"Damn you, Asher," I whisper under my breath, close the book, and toss it aside, frustrated with how much he's infiltrated my thoughts.

There are appealing things that being in a stable relationship would have. Like, what it might do for my libido. You know, regular sex without the emotional roller coaster. Although, that could potentially lead to love, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that. My heart battles my head as I weigh the pros and cons. Like my parents, whose love was so strong but ended in pain and heartbreak for me when they passed away. It's hard to imagine opening myself up to that kind of hurt again.

"Ugh!" I groan, rubbing my temples and standing up. I need some fresh air to clear my mind.

As I step out onto my tiny porch, I inhale the salty air drifting in from the ocean. The sound of waves crashing against the shore almost drowns out my racing thoughts. That's when I see them; Mr. and Mrs. Greene are out for their nightly stroll through the single street in our community.

The sight of the elderly couple holding hands, their fingers intertwined, brings a smile to my face despite my negative thoughts. They smile at each other and stop to give each other a tender smooch on the lips before walking off hand in hand. Their love is palpable, and it warms my heart even as I battle my own thoughts on the matter.

But the fear remains, creeping into every corner of my mind. Is it worth the risk? The answer doesn’t come to me as I watch the happy couple disappear around the corner, leaving me with more questions than answers.

"Life isn't a romance novel, Elle," I sigh, leaning against the porch railing.

I go back inside my tiny home and yank the curtains closed. Determined to distract myself and find some relief in this lonely world, I grab my Lovense vibrator toy from my bedside drawer. With a few taps on my phone while I settle onto my bed, I connect the device to the app, allowing anonymous users to control its vibrating patterns.

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