New neighbors Andi and Hayden don't get off to the best start - and neither do their dogs. When the hostility between their pets, Bart and Rosie, leads to noisy barking, Andi and Hayden must solve their pet's tension or risk eviction from their apar...
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My parents were fountains of tears when they dropped me off at college. While I shed a few tears myself, mainly for the change, I didn't fully understand the depth of feeling that came with leaving your child on their own.
However, as I sit at the same picnic table as yesterday and stare across the street, I could write dissertations on that feeling. Given how much my heart aches even though I'll see Bart in two hours, and he's only a street away, maybe I shouldn't have judged my parents too harshly as they left their baby across the country.
I bounce my boot underneath the table, rub my thumb over my pen, and stare over my work to Ralia. The orange glow of golden hour lights the brick building. Trees sparkle against the sun, and like yesterday, the park is energized. A couple rests on a blanket, the peaceful lake sloshes against the rocks, and the slow sizzle of hotdogs vibrates through the air. That guitarist from yesterday is back and, this time, accompanied by a friend.
It's another perfect night.
Visually.
Taking in the night from all angles, problems arise.
For starters, the air is a heavy cloud of humidity. The sticky heat pounds on my exposed skin, releasing drops of sweat and staining the underarms of my grey tank. I probably should have worn a different color, but I've been so distracted lately that the possibility of sweat never crossed my mind.
Which brings me to problem number two: I'm fizzling with worry, especially after the failure to find a service to sew Bart's Teddy. Finding a solution that won't take weeks is harder than one would think. That, mixed with the unease of leaving Bart alone, and I'm a bubbling pot of nerves. A general tension courses through my blood, igniting it with electric charges that urge me across the street. But I can't do that. Priya is working with the dogs on long-distance observations of each other. It's a means of desensitization, and my presence will only slow it down.
All I can do is remind myself that Bart is strong, and even if he doesn't like what's happening, he can handle it.
Then there's problem number three: Hayden. He and his perfectly tanned body sit at the table beside mine, creating an unexplainable unease. The two of us have been here five minutes, sitting at separate tables this time. Hayden said he had work, which makes sense since he's spent most of the day with his mother. She only left two hours ago with a knock on my door to say goodbye. Now, Hayden rests his muscular arm on the wood, dragging his eyes across his laptop.
But I've also caught him dragging those eyes to me.
It feels like he's scheming, and I don't like it.
He already tried to weasel his way into sitting at my table by complaining about the crumbs at his.
I mentally roll my eyes.
With a deep breath and a rotation of my shoulders, I re-focus on my brainstorming project. I've completed all other work tasks and client calls for the weekend, but this damn fun-themed hotel? My work for that proposal stays unfinished.
