Even though it was mid-October, the weather in Florida felt like it was the middle of July. The sun beat down on Brandon and me as we exited my car and walked up the driveway to his house. We had come from spending the night in North Carolina and the temperature was uncomfortably different—mostly because I was still wearing a long sleeved shirt and an oversized sweater over jeans.
“Is it always this hot in Florida?” I gasped, using one hand to fan myself with my layers of clothing.
A short bark of laughter tore through Brandon’s lips, “Yeah, unfortunately.” Nose wrinkling with distaste, he paused with his hand on the door handle. “You should be here when it’s summer; take one step outside and you’re a puddle on the ground.”
“Oh, come on, that’s got to be an exaggeration.” We stepped inside together, and I took in the entry way.
It wasn’t very large, just a rather long, green hallway with doors lining both sides. A few stood open, while others were shut tightly.
“Jamie? Jamie is that you?” A woman’s voice called out from the right side of the hall and a moment later an woman’s face popped around the corner. Glasses were propped lopsidedly on the end of her nose and her lightly graying hair looked like it had been pulled back rather hastily into a sloppy bun. “Brandon?”
“Hey, Mom!” A huge smile lit up Brandon’s face and he rushed over to envelop the petite woman in a bear hug.
“Brandon, what are you doing home?” Brandon’s mom hugged him back quickly, but a puzzled expression remained on her face. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the writing seminar in New York until tomorrow?”
A writing seminar, eh? So, that’s what I pulled Brandon away from.
“There were…” he trailed off and threw a backwards glance over his shoulder at me. “…complications.”
“Oh?” Her son’s look towards me had not been lost on the woman, and, with eyebrows piqued, she looked at me. “And who might this be?” Her tone wasn’t rude in the least, merely curious.
Brandon opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off as I stepped forward and extended my hand towards her. “Calypso Vivian Sprile,” I rattled off quickly, pumping her hand up and down once. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Nickson.”
Mrs. Nickson withdrew her hand and placed both hands into the front pockets of the blue checkered apron she had tied around her torso. “And you as well, Calypso. Are you friends with Brandon?”
“We met at the writing seminar,” interjected Brandon quickly. “She offered me a ride home.”
“All the way from New York?” Mrs. Nickson’s eyes grew wide from behind her circular framed glasses and she looked between the two of us rapidly. “That’s quite a drive.”
“It was nothing.” I shrugged and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “I needed to get out of New York anyways.”
A small smile began to play at the corner of Brandon’s lips, probably at the thought of my assertion that the mob was after me and I couldn’t help but smile myself at the sight of it.
“Mom? Did I hear you say—“ A young girl’s voice stopped abruptly as a golden-haired teenager walked in, clothed in a pair of baggy grey sweats and a tank top. “Oh.” Her gray-blue eyes raked over me appraisingly, then flitted between Brandon and I and the smiles we were sharing. “Brandon, you never told me you had a girlfriend.”
Her brother’s face flushed a tomato red and I think that, perhaps, mine did as well. “Calypso’s not my g-girlfriend, Kaylee,” Brandon spluttered out, taking a step away from me quickly. “She—I—we—uh—“
YOU ARE READING
Fly With Me
AdventureCalypso is on the run. From her past. From her present. From everything. Brandon is stuck in a rut. He knows what he wants to do with himself, but does nothing to get himself there. When the two collide in the streets of New York they begin a whirlw...
