“So, not San Francisco. Where, honey?”
I return my attention to nosey Flo. “A small town up the line in west Washington state.”
“Washington state? Did you bring your umbrella? I hear it’s rainy up there this time of year. Or any time of year.” Once again, she laughs at her own joke. Although being a native Washingtonian, I know it’s reality.
“I’ve watched Sleepless in Seattle at least twenty times,” she adds as proof of her statement.
“I’ve got my umbrella,” I assure her.
“What’s the name of your town?”
“You probably wouldn’t know it. It’s super small.”
“Try me.”
Must I?
“Hunter’s Creek.”
She gives me a blank look, as I thought she would.
“You don’t know it.”
“No, but I bet it’s one of those quaint old towns with pretty wooden buildings on a river or something, right?”
“It’s by a creek,” I concede. “Kinda goes with the territory, what with the name of the place being Hunter’s Creek.”
“I knew it!” Flo exclaims.
I thought she said river?
“Vacation? Visiting friends or family?”
“New job.”
“What do you do, honey? Let me guess. You’re—”
I’m so not in the mood for another guessing game.
“I’m a teacher. Elementary school,” I tell her.
“And Hunter’s Creek is looking for a new elementary school teacher?”
“One of the teacher’s is on maternity leave and I’m taking her class for the rest of the school year.”
I don’t add that being dumped meant having to work out my notice period in LA once I’d found this temporary job back home.
Another great Harper Cole decision: give up a permanent job for a temporary one.
I’m on fire.
I could write a book: How Not to Make Decisions.
She opens her mouth to ask more, so I preempt her with, “Hunter’s Creek is where I grew up. That’s why I’m taking the job there.”
That and my life implosion.
But I’m not going to delve into that.
“You’re moving home! Nice!” She grins, which is something she’s been doing from the moment she sat down.
I offer her a weak smile in return before I signal the conversation is over by staring out the window. Time to count some more poles.
Flo doesn’t get the hint.
“I’m going to Portland to visit my good-for-nothing ex. He stole my gerbils and I’m gonna go get them back.”
He stole her gerbils?
I need to ask.
“Why did he steal them?”
She lifts her shoulders in a shrug, moving her head from side to side. “Honey, why do men do anything? Am I right?”
I harrumph. “You got that right.”
She clucks. “You think you know ’em, and they go pulling something like stealing your award-winning gerbils from under your nose when you’re out at the laundromat.”
“Your gerbils won awards?”
“Oh, heck yeah. All kinds of prizes. My Lady Scrunchy von Rodentsworth has won Best in Show twice already, and Duke Ostinato was runner up.”
Lady Scrunchy von Rodentsworth and Duke Ostinato?
“There are gerbil shows? Like dog shows?”
“Sure are.”
“Huh. I never knew.”
“Honey, there is a whole world of gerbil-related events and activities out there for you to discover. You should get into it. Pretty girl like you would be real popular with the male gerbil fanciers.”
I don’t even know where to start with that.
“I teach second-grade, so I figure I’ve got enough wildlife to contend with each day.”
She breaks into a sudden laugh, as though my joke was the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “You gotta do you, right?”
“Yeah. Sure. I hope you get them back. Your gerbils.”
“Oh, I will. Don’t you worry about that.”
The girl’s face appears above the top of the seat again, only this time Flo notices. “Can we help you with something, hun?” she asks.
“Um, well, I kinda wanted to ask her something.” She gestures at me.
Oh, no. I know what’s coming.
You see, the night Dex told me about Serenity, the surrounding crowd did more than simply watch the scene unfold before them. They filmed the scene unfolding before them, and they posted it. Everywhere.
To add to my total life implosion, the videos went viral. Memes of me pouring soda over Dex’s head with captions like how to kill a vampire have cropped up on my feed ever since.
When Serious Bite made it big with its first season, Dex got recognized when we were out together. It was exciting, a real novelty experience. The most I ever got was one of my students saying a shy, “hello” at the market, so it took some getting used to for me. But for Dex? He leaned right into it, lapping up the attention like a super thirsty, oversized puppy.
It was not a great look for him.
Looking back, it was around about that time doubts began to creep in. Doubts about our compatibility. Nothing big. More of a…wondering, I guess.
As it turned out, I should have wondered some more.
“Well, go ahead, ask her,” Flo says to the girl.
“Did you get dumped by that guy? You know, the hot guy from the vampire show?”
“Dex Ryder,” another voice says, and immediately a second disembodied teenage head appears above the seat, this time a blonde with her hair in a high ponytail. “You are her. I know you are. See.” She thrusts her phone at me, and I’m forced to watch my humiliating dumping on Santa Monica Pier once more.
Everyone knows how horrible breakups can be, but I get to relive mine again and again, thanks to the wonders of modern technology.
“Oh, my sweet gerbil, that is you!” Flo declares, wide-eyed, as the overly familiar video shows me dumping my soda over Dex’s head.
“That’s my favorite part,” Blonde Ponytail states.
“I can see why. You go, girl.” Flo nudges me in the arm with her elbow.
I pull my lips into the semblance of a smile. This is so not fun for me.
“I think it’s a total girl power move,” Brunette Girl agrees.
“Don’t be dumb. Not because of any feminist baloney,” Blonde Ponytail says.
“Why then?” the brunette asks.
“Because Dex Ryder looks super-hot wet,” Blonde Ponytail declares. “See?” She pauses the video on a shocked looking Dex, his flattened hair dripping liquid onto his now soaking white shirt that clings to his chest.
Brunette Girl appraises the screen. “Good point, babe. He is so hot, even covered in soda.”
I arch an eyebrow in their direction. Are they kidding me right now?
And then, to my utter horror, tears prick my eyes.
Thankfully, my newfound friend, Flo, notices and immediately chimes in with, “All right, you two. You’ve had your fun. Now turn around and mind your own beeswax.”
“But—”
Flo glares at them. “I said, mind your own beeswax.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Blonde Ponytail says, chastised, and both girls turn and sit back down.