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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Dark parking lots, strange destinations, and men you met a week ago aren't usually the best combination.
Therefore, as Bart and I sit in my car, waiting outside Hayden's studio, it's safe to say warning bells are ringing loud and clear. But even with the flickering street lamps, vacant strip of buildings, and dark of night, Bart's looming reaction is scariest. I've never taken him to a place like this, and while he doesn't usually mind photos, this is a little more than holding up my phone in our apartment.
I tap my fingers against my steering wheel. I'm stalling, building enough courage to leave the cozy, familiar warmth and brave the never-before-visited unknown. Beside me, Bart sits in the passenger seat with a dopey little grin. He's double strapped into his seatbelt and holds Teddy in his smile.
He's safe in his seat, and Teddy is safe in his mouth.
I hope they'll be safe inside, too.
After grabbing my phone from the dashboard, my home screen (a picture of Bart and Teddy) lights up the car and displays the time. 10:34—four minutes over the time Hayden said he'd finish cleaning.
Below the times rests an email notification from the owners of the hotel I've been redesigning. I asked them for more measurements. (Past the ones they've already sent and the ones I've taken myself). Since I'm past the concept stage of my idea, it's time for the nitty gritty. For the past two days, I've been knee-deep in measurements, logistics, structure, and all that other good stuff to which my college tuition paid. The stuff that shows this project isn't a fairytale. That it can actually happen.
With a project themed around plants, lighting and windows have proved challenging.
But it's a challenge I'm tackling.
I hover my thumb over the email but can't bring myself to click it. If I were home, I would bust it wide open and work on everything I could. But I'm not at home.
And I don't want to be.
That feeling scares me.
I have little desire to cram in more work than I already have. It's an unusual feeling, but I rationalize it, reminding myself I'm ahead of schedule, and nothing the owners sent is make-or-break important, anyway.
But, more than anything else, I don't want to work because I'm excited to be where I am. As crazy as it is, genuine excitement sits beneath the nerves and looming scariness. The excitement is deeply masked, but it's excitement nonetheless.
I'm excited to see Hayden again.
His compliments from earlier play through my head, and I find myself smiling through the dimness of my car. Nothing he said was anything I don't already think about myself, but hearing someone else say it? Someone like him? And watching as he captured pretty pictures of me?
I exhale slowly, brushing my fingers through my hair. Then I flip open my car mirror and check my mascara.
I have fun with Hayden. I think we're becoming friends.
