After driving for seven hours, hitting massive traffic and road construction, I finally make it to the tiniest town I’ve ever visited. Arriving exactly an hour late for the interview.
At this point, I should turn around but I still continue forward. I came this far, why turn back now? If there still is a chance, I have to fight for this job or crawl back to my meaningless existence at the coffee shop.
As soon as I’m called into the bright orange office, something clicks and no matter what I say, I won’t lose the job. I don't know what it is, but Marie wants me as an employee.
The questions are basic. She literally answers her own questions. This is far different than the gauntlet during the phone interviews.
Half way through the meeting we are discussing pay, benefits, time off, and every other important element of relocation. She can’t promise anything but she pens my start date into her calendar. My heart swims as my dreams slowly materialize.
I am going to prove myself, regardless of what anyone else thinks. While most of my friends sit at home, playing video games at their parent's house, I am going to be a manager in one of the top non-profit companies in the world. Albeit, I will be a manager of one of the smallest sections within the company.
As soon as the interview ends, I spend the remainder of the day familiarizing myself with the town. Everything centers around five or six blocks. It’s quaint and charming. The façades reveal the historic beauty of the area.
I can't believe I’m choosing to move to an even smaller town, if at five thousand it still counts as a town. Village might be a more appropriate term.
This town doesn't boast any type of tourist population, making it stagnant throughout the year. The only thing Lakeview can boast about is the lake. The town deserves the name. Everywhere has a perfect view of the shimmering water.
Unfortunately, with the amazing view and large acreage plots, the town boasts a very unforgiving housing market. It’s challenging for someone who hasn't had a serious job and a non-existent savings account. Without the resources needed to invest in a house, I have no choice but to look in the classifieds for an apartment.
The options are limited. I prefer something in town. The best way to get to know my neighbors is if I actually have some. If I live near the woods and accidently get mauled by a bear, no one would know I went missing for weeks.
Sitting in the local diner, B & B, and what appears to be the hottest spot in town, I sip on my ice tea as I contemplate the choices of a new home. The waitress puts the plate on the table while I circle and cross out the available housing options.
It is either the small, outdated apartment in the best area of town, or the larger and dingy apartment on the outskirts of town. Oh, the options of a small town. City living is looking better every moment.
The bell rings, bringing in a boisterous group of males. Their conversation is amusing and I can’t stop myself from looking up.
Staring at their physiques, I forget the food on the edge of my fork as it falls back to the plate. Nothing about their chiseled figures should exist on a human.
Maybe there is something interesting in this town after all. Relocation is looking like my best option. I'll gladly take the tiny apartment for a chance of being neighbors with any of them.
One boy sticks out from the rest. He’s slightly older, with dark wavy hair as his hand quickly brushes it out of his eyes. His bronze skin probably comes from hours lounging by the lake. A mixture of excitement tinged with boredom rests in his dark hazel eyes. That same expression usually resides on my own face.
He turns, meeting my gaze without hesitation. My chin tucks as I focus on the food. My mind needs to relearn thinking as my checks burn.
Their conversation switches. Not only are they talking about me but I feel their gaze as the chairs shift across the linoleum floor.
"Hello," One of them say sliding into the bench across from me.
It’s the guy who caught me staring. Heat rises as I turn between the plate and the man. If I wasn't so socially awkward, I would know how to respond. Having a handsome man sitting across from me, smiling slyly in my direction, makes my mind go to mush. Oh what to say, "Hi," I finally conjure up, as the whisper leaves my lips.
"Would you like to go for a run," he asks as his eyes light up.
What a strange question from a complete stranger. Where would anyone get the impression that I actually like running? I’m in a business suit and heels. There’s nothing athletic in my physique, especially in this outfit.
"Excuse me?”
He smiles and plays with the saltshaker, "Would you like to go for a run," He repeats with the same intensity and confidence in his voice.
This boy may be the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, but the hair on the back of my neck slowly rises every moment he’s near me.
"I don't run.”
His eyes burn into my scalp. He doesn’t understand my response. I don’t understand his question.
He leans closer and after a slight pause; I lift my head high enough to look into those large brown eyes. Instantly, the trap is set, he could say or do anything and I would agree to it without hesitation. I would start running right now, high heels and all.
The man inches forward and glances at the table before looking back through his long eyelashes. A technique that I'm sure he uses often. As he watches me, I realize I’ve moved forward and am inches from him. Quickly I sit back in the booth.
"Come on," He whispers before looking around the diner, "You can't tell me the trails haven't sparked your interest."
Not only have I not seen the trails but there is nothing in my mind that would convince me to add trails to my priority list. I don't hike, bike, or walk anything that has a trail in its name. A visit to the gym is something entirely different.
Placing the fork and knife on my plate, my mind finally focuses, "I'm sorry, but who are you?"
He inches back. His fingers continue to play with the saltshaker while his other hand rests on the back of the bench. My expression must mirror his; confusion and annoyance.
The man inhales before nonchalantly looking around the diner, "You don't know, do you," He asks his eyes blaze wildly.
"Know what," I retort wondering what the social norms are in this tiny town. Even though I’ve lived in a small town all my life, I’ve never had such a random encounter.
The man laughs, catching the attention of everyone in the diner, "You really don't know," He says louder, with more skepticism than anything.
He smiles before leaning closer as if trying to whisper some tantalizing secret. I stay where I am, not willing to be caught inching closer to him again.
He looks me up and down, an action that actually takes my breath away, "You'll figure it out soon," he whispers before climbing from the booth, motioning to his friends as they stand and leave.
The most exciting thing about changing towns was getting rid of everything that seemed familiar. These men prove that no matter how far I run from home, there will always be at least one frustrating man in my life.
The strange man walks across the window with his group. Even though he is chiseled like a Roman god, I already hate him after the completely infuriating conversation.
Hastily turning, I ignore them as he keeps glancing back. Each swipe of the knife causes the plate to cry as I aggressively cut the chicken.
I shake my head while replaying the conversation. His strange expression lingers and I mentally note to add pepper spray to my grocery list.