This isn’t a love story.
No fucking way.
I don’t do love. Romance. None of that lovey-dovey-hearts-and-flowers shit. It just doesn’t work for me.
No, this is a summation. A compilation of records. A recapitulation of events. This has nothing to do with love.
Summer
A sigh crossed the threshold of my lips. The restless rays of the sun beat down upon me, causing the few scraps of clothing that I was actually wearing to cling unpleasantly to my skin. The cool pages of my book against my face shielded my thoughts from the sun’s malevolent rays. Nearby, I could hear the comforting sounds of birds dancing through the air. Occasionally the sound of an engine would disrupt their dance momentarily as the rare automobile sped down the old and worn out gravel.
Nobody ever stopped. In fact, people very rarely even passed by. I lived in an older, smaller quarter of town, one where all of the houses seemed miniscule compared to the modern two-story homes that grew increasingly more and more common in our developing, small town. It was the summer before my senior year of high school, and I had already wasted the majority of it lazing around my front porch like I was doing now.
The reason was that most of my friends were away for the summer. Aside from a stray cat I liked to claim as my own, I hardly saw anyone these days. Even my own parents were constantly away on business trips. In fact, at that very moment, they were currently in Atlanta for some super important business conference. When they would be back, I had no idea.
We lived in some small town in the middle of nowhere in Alabama. It was one of those towns people would pass on their way to Birmingham or someplace important and maybe stop for some gas. Other than a gas station, plus a supermarket, we hardly had anything here. When I was small, I had this irrational dream that someday, someone interesting would blow into town and, for lack of better words, knock my world upside down. Of course, that never happened, and so I never expected it to happen. Especially not now, when I was so close to finally being able to leave this godforsaken town.
But it happened.
It might have been a Tuesday or a Wednesday – I had lost track – when he blew into town. That morning, though, I had been lying around just like I described. Our internet was rarely actually working, so I spent a lot of my time reading, or pretending to read.
A sigh escaped my lips. For a minute longer, I listened to the busy conversations of the birds before it was again interrupted by the roar of an engine. This time, however, instead of fading away like they normally do, it stopped. I lifted the novel off my face slightly and blinked a couple times to fend off the bright sunlight.
A rusty moving truck sat in front of the neighboring lawn. For months, an old “For Rent” sign had stood askew in front of that very lawn; I guess they finally managed to get rid of it.
I leaned up onto my elbows and wondered for a moment whether or not I should offer a hand to the movers. A moment later, an expensive looking black car drove up and stopped a short distance behind it. And then he stepped out.
The first thing I noticed about him was his hair, probably. A messy mop of midnight locks, it was kind of hard to miss in the burning sunlight of that hot summer day. He walked to the driver window of the moving van to talk to the movers, I assumed. It was a short distance, but it was enough for me to take a good look at his figure. Slightly above average height, he dressed casually in dark jeans and a t-shirt. Just seeing his jeans made me realize he wasn’t from around here.
Realizing it was probably a bad idea to greet him in the sticky tank top I was wearing, and had been wearing for a few days now, I quickly rose and entered my house, leaving my book outside. I decided to quickly shower, throw on some fresh clothes, and then go out to greet him like a good neighbor would.
I glanced out the window while drying my dark hair and saw that the moving trucks were still there. Not wanting to interrupt, or rather, not wanting to contribute to any physical labor, I slid into my kitchen to see if there was something I could bring with me. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to go grocery shopping earlier, so all my fridge held was a rotting head of cabbage and some cheese. I looked in the pantry and found a jar of Nutella and some cereal. I didn’t even have any milk left. With a sigh, I grabbed my wallet and headed outside again.
The moving truck had left by the time I finished locking my door. The door to my new neighbor’s car was open, and he was leaning inside searching for something. This was probably a good time to introduce myself.
“Hi,” I greeted easily as I approached his car. I must have surprised him, since he immediately shot out of his car and looked at me cautiously. I tilted my head at his wary gesture and raised my hand in what I hoped was a friendly wave. “Welcome to Silver Crossing. You’re not from around here, are you?”
I mentally slapped myself for being so forward.
To my relief, though, he smiled. It was a nice smile, one that lit up and filled his entire face.
“Is it that obvious?” he asked sheepishly.
“Your jeans say it all,” I replied. “Well, that, and your fancy car. And your accent.”
I began to grow increasingly aware of how attractive he really was. In contrast to everyone else in town, his skin was not yet tanned by the unwarranted sun, and his facial features were nicely shaped, like they had been carved from marble, and not of human flesh. Not to mention, he looked like he couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than me. For a moment, I regretted initiating the conversation.
“You’re right,” he said. “I kind of regret not packing more summer clothes. Is it always this hot out?”
Just when you’re here, I thought to myself, but only nodded instead. “It’s Alabama, what did you expect?”
“Not this,” he muttered. A small undertone of disdain lined his voice, but I couldn’t blame him. He shut his car door and turned to me fully. “Do you mind showing me around some? I honestly have no idea what’s around here.”
“Like there’s a lot around here,” I scoffed, then nodded. “Sure. I was just about to head for the store anyways. Wanna come?”
“Sure,” he agreed. He clicked a small button, and the doors of his car locked with a small beep.
I began walking towards the small grocer towards the front of my neighborhood. He quickly caught up with me and walked beside me with his hands in his pockets.
“So what’s your name?” he asked.
“Evie,” I replied. “Yours?”
“Marino.”
And all I could think of at that moment as we walked was his eyes and how green they were. Green, like the feathers of a royal peacock. Green like the endless wonder of oceans. Green like the dangers of the sky before a tornado.
