Chapter 1: Lawton
Layton, North Carolina
Eight years earlier...
It’s becoming a routine to sit on the balcony and observe her, an addiction I can’t seem to shake. She sticks to the same schedule. The last two weeks have stayed the same, merely rotating on days. Today, she’s doing laps in the lake right in front of a collection of vacation homes, including ours. It’s owned by the association that built the tourist area I’ve visited with my parents since I was a kid. She doesn’t live around here. My dad knows every family in the neighborhood. We dine with them weekly, and I’ve never seen her. I would remember if I had.
“Hey, there you are. I have been trying to find you. There’s a basketball game in the making down at Murdock’s place. You in?”
Ignoring Preston, I see her dive off the pier for another round of laps. Preston and I have been friends forever. Our families live next door to one another in Charlotte, North Carolina, but each summer, we all pack up and make our home for two months in the small tourist town of Layton, North Carolina. It’s a summer’s worth of country club activities and parties. I wouldn’t say I like it. Sometimes, I wonder if I wasn’t born into the wrong family, that maybe God decided he needed a good laugh.
“Earth to Lawton.”
“She look familiar to you?”
Preston follows my gaze, and we watch her tread water. Squinting, he studies her.
“Not from what I can tell. Maybe she’s new.”
Deciding, I grab the corner of my polo shirt and pull it over my head. I discard it on the wicker chair and walk towards the stairs that lead to the path to the lake.
“I’m going to find out who she is.”
“What about the game?” Preston calls after me.
“I’ll meet you there later,” I yell back.
Moving along the trail surrounded by oak trees, I pause at the water’s edge. Close up, she’s even more beautiful than what I’ve witnessed from my regular perch. Her long hair is wavy, and although it’s darkened from the water, I know it’s a sandy blonde. My light brown hair is dull in comparison. The navy blue bikini she wears makes her tan skin stand out. I bet she never burns. That’s something we share in common. She doesn’t see me. Without considering the consequences, I jump in. The splash startles her, and she goes under. When she emerges, she’s spitting and coughing. I reach her before she can sink again and grab her. She takes a minute to choke out the water she’s digested, and when she does, she pushes me aside before treading water.
“It’s not nice to sneak up on someone in the water like that,” she gets out between coughs.
Her voice is soft. It fits how I thought it would. With her by my side, I realize there’s an innocence to her I didn’t detect from far away. Her lips are full and kissable, and her eyes are an attractive shade of gray. It reminds me of a good southern storm shower. When she clears her throat, I realize that I’ve been caught staring.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw someone out here and thought I’d check it out.”
Her brow raises, but she remains quiet. I point behind me.
“My family owns the house on the hill.” Following my gaze, she takes in the home and a frown spreads across her face. It makes me wish I could retract the former information.
“I should go,” she says. “I thought there were no residents at this time of day.”
She swims toward the shore, and I follow her like the stalker I am.
“You don’t live around here?”
Holding onto the ladder attached to the pier, she begins to make her way out. Grabbing a towel that is hanging on a nearby post, she remains silent.
“I haven’t seen you before, and I’m certain I’d remember you.”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she heads off the pier and in the opposite direction of my family’s vacation home.
“At least give me a name!” I yell after her.
She stops, and I hold my breath. When she turns, I’m feeling victorious. I’ve been trying to figure it out since the first day I saw her walking along the grassy fields separating our home from our neighbors.
“Giving a name is pointless when you’ll just forget it,” she replies. “I’m not from your world. I’m doing you a favor.”
This time, when she turns around, she breaks out into a run. I could catch her if I wanted to, but I’ve stalked her enough for one day. Until tomorrow.
