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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"How are you doing over there?" Hayden calls, his voice cutting through the calm, musty air.
He and I float across the water. Around five blocks from the shoreline, faint waves sweep over the lake, swaying our boards back and forth.
"Tired." I sigh, sitting open-legged. Each of my legs dangle in the cool water. "Battered. Muscles sore."
Hayden beat me in multiple races.
However, I did get to watch him crash into my paddle and plow into the water.
So, the evening has also had its pleasures.
Still, even after getting a slight handle on the sport, I've admitted defeat. I've thrown in the towel. Deep down, we both knew I wasn't beating his smiling ass anyway, but I gave it my all. That's what matters.
Now, I sit on my board, defeat internalized, arms tired, and wet hair sticking to my forehead.
Bright golden light zaps the water, twinkling over each ripple with sharp sparks, but also victims of the light? All the water on my skin. Tiny lake droplets freckle my thighs, arms, and face—the unfortunate outcome of tumbling into the water more times than I care to admit.
Hayden, about two feet from me, mirrors my position. Each of his tan legs hang in the water. Unlike me, who is still one with her puffy blue vest, he's rid himself of his. It sits beside his paddle along the end of his board. Without the vest, I see the water droplets streaking down his exposed, golden abs. Other droplets drip from his hair, cascading across each curve on his face. Some get lost in his stubble, others nestle themselves in the creases of his hazel eyes, but all glisten in the sunlight.
He smiles, the expression lifting the burnt skin on his cheeks. "And nothing but five losses to show for it."
I roll my eyes, a wet strand of hair dripping onto my lashes. "Yeah, yeah." My vision dots with soaked spots, so I wipe my (surely mascara-bleeding) eyes. "I can say with fair certainty that my decision to pursue a career in interior design didn't deprive me of one in professional paddle boarding."
I collect all my sopping hair to one side, lean above the water, and wring it out. Gushes fall into the lake, splashing my legs.
"What did make you choose interior design?" Hayden rocks with his board, raising a hand to see me through the sun. "Because if your apartment is anything to go by, you're good at it."
I return my hands to my paddle, tightening my fingers around it. "It's, uh, it's what I wanted to be since I was a kid." I jab my thumb into the rubble pole, repeating what I've told myself for years.
Your past isn't embarrassing. It's not something you have to hide.
I clear my throat, shrugging. "I was in foster care for a good chunk of childhood. I lived in a few different houses with a few different bedrooms, all of which had restrictions on how I could modify them." I screw my fingers along my paddle. "But even if they hadn't, reworking a room wasn't possible because I shared them with others. And, more than anything, it wouldn't have been worth it for a non-permanent room." I take another deep, stuttering breath, keeping my demeanor firm and casual. "So I fantasized about how I would design my personal, stable room, and I fell in love with designing as a whole."
