Tinsley

Slamming my laptop closed, I groan out loud. My head aches and my eyes burn. I’ve been staring at the screen for hours now, and haven’t gotten anywhere. Two pages—that’s all I’ve written in the last week. This story has been rolling around in my head for months, and it wants to come out, wants to be told, but writer’s block is a bitch. My first book flowed through me like a raging river; this one is like stream that’s been dammed up. Walking to the fridge, I pull out a bottle of my favorite pinot and grab a glass from the cabinet. As I pour the wine into my glass, I blow out an aggravated breath. Leaning back against the counter, I take a long, slow sip.

Once I was rid of Logan, I thought I could start fresh, and buying this gorgeous condo on the beach was the first step. As soon as I saw this place, I knew it was the perfect setting to boost my creativity and inspire my muse. I could see myself on the patio with the sea breeze blowing while furiously typing away on my laptop, but it’s been months—and nothing. Too bad I can’t seem to figure out what the problem is.

My phone vibrates next to me and I glance over to see who’s calling, praying it’s not my editor, Monica. She’s been waiting on the book I should have finished months ago. I’ve been able to put her off so far, but that won’t last much longer. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see it’s Kassidy. Kas has been my best friend since elementary school, and even though she still lives in upstate New York, we talk at least twice a week. She’s always there when I need her, and I for her.

“Hey, Kas.”

“Hey, babe. How’s the writing going?”

“Ugh. Just as bad as it was two days ago. I don’t know what my issue is. I was actually trying to figure that out right before you called.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Maybe you just need a vacation,” she says, and I roll my eyes. She’s been trying to get me to visit my hometown since I moved, but I have no desire to go back. It’s too painful. My heart was broken into a million pieces in that town. “Come on, T. It’s been over ten years. You’ve moved on.”

I scrub my hand down my face. She’s right, I had moved on, in theory. I originally left to get away from all the memories that haunted me—everything that reminded me of him—and I had Logan, but something always kept me from going back, and I can’t necessarily ignore that in relation to the “you’ve moved on” theory. Perhaps it’s time for me to go home and do just that—finally move on and get closure in all aspects of my past.

“Are there any renters in my house?” When my mother passed away, she left me her house on the lake, and I didn’t have the heart to sell it, so Kas has been taking care of the property and renting it out for me for the past ten years. I love that house. It’s special to me, just like Tampa was always special when I visited as a little girl. Maybe, somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I’d want to go back someday.

“Nope, and I really would like to have my bestie home again. Plus, I’ve been the one coming to visit you for the last ten years,” she says, her tone conveying every ounce of hope she’s feeling.

I sigh, knowing she isn’t going to give up. She’ll ask and ask until I give in just to shut her up. I might as well save myself the headache I can already feel coming on. With two fingers, I begin to massage my left temple. Seymour, New York is a beautiful, peaceful small town with its sprawling mountains and expansive forests. The people were friendly and laid back, and the sounds of birds chirping, trees rustling, and children playing had always been soothing. The place is a total contradiction to Tampa. A small smile crosses my face. Seymour may be the change of scenery I need to clear my head and get my creative juices flowing again.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll book a flight,” I tell her on a laugh. Her squeal is so shriek, I pull my phone away from my ear, my body shaking with laughter. Her ability to allow her emotions through so easily has always been one of the things I love most about her. Kassidy’s unbridled excitement makes me excited, but just the thought of going back there still has my stomach flipping.

Sitting in the airport, waiting for my flight to be called, I can’t help but wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Not only does the thought of getting on an airplane freak me the fuck out, but the idea of going back to New York does—maybe more so. My foot taps against the hard floor as beads of sweat form along my forehead and down the back of my neck. I can’t believe I’m really doing this. I look up at the clock on the wall and notice I have about thirty minutes before I board. Picking up my carry-on bag, I walk over to the bar for a stiff drink to calm my frazzled nerves.

Before I even take my seat, the bartender is standing in front of me, a wide smile on his face. “A shot of tequila please,” I say, sliding onto the barstool. He pours my drink, places it in front of me, and I slide a twenty over to him. “Thanks. Keep the change.”

With a nod in thanks, he moves to the other end of the bar to help another customer and I raise the glass to my lips, knocking it back. The burn is welcoming and the tension in my shoulders begins to ease.

I’ve spent the last two weeks packing up my condo, selling my car, shipping everything I want with me home, putting the rest in storage, and hiring a real estate agency to rent out my condo for the six months I plan to be gone—which should give me plenty of time to get this book finished. I know Kassidy is going to try to get me to stay, but living there permanently is not an option. He still lives there, and avoiding him for the next few months is going to be difficult enough without inserting myself into a situation where it’s unavoidable.

I motion to the bartender for another shot. Liquid courage is the only thing getting my ass on that plane. He slides the glass to me with a wink and a smile. You are barking up the wrong tree, I think to myself as I hand over another twenty. The last thing on my mind is starting anything with another man. I’ve only been with two, and they both let me down. Two for two are not good odds. It’s time to focus on myself and my career. Plus, I have plenty of batteries and an amazing vibrator.

After shooting back the liquor, I walk back over to my gate, my nerves kicking back into gear as thoughts of him settle in. At sixteen, I thought I knew everything, and I had no doubt I was in love with Damien, but it wasn’t the soul-mate, last-forever kind of love I thought it was. And I don’t think he loved me as much as I did him. If he had, he wouldn’t have dumped me.

I was a naive fifteen-year-old at the end of my freshman year of high school when I met him. He was a gorgeous eighteen-year-old senior. Tall, long blonde hair, and crystal blue eyes…I had never seen such a handsome boy. His smile made my chest tighten, and his eyes had butterflies swarming through every inch of my body. I couldn’t help wondering how I had never noticed him before, but more than that, I couldn’t resist him as soon as he entered my radar.

I was with Kassidy one Friday night hanging out at the arcade. Kas and I were sitting at a table feeding the jukebox when I looked up toward the pool tables. My heart skipped a beat the moment my eyes landed on him. I watched as he and his friend played pool for over an hour, a flush heating my cheeks when I’d notice him gazing my way every now and then. Kassidy kept teasing me, saying he was checking me out, but I didn’t believe that. There was no way a guy that hot would be looking at me. It wasn’t like I needed to wear a bag over my head, but I wasn’t super model material either. You could say I was plain—not really the girl who turned heads.

After a little flirting from across the room, Damien and his friend came over and introduced themselves. Within five minutes of talking to him, I swore I was in love. Every time his arm brushed against mine, electric shocks ricocheted and sparked along my nerve-endings. I wanted to be close to him, so when he asked me to play pool, I jumped at the chance. And, of course, I pretended to suck so he could teach me…

“Ma’am? Are you on this flight?” My eyes snap up to a woman wearing an airline uniform, then around the room to see all the previously occupied seats are now empty.

“Yes. I am,” I say, jumping up.

Here goes nothing.