Waiting For Tomorrow

Leah's Pov

6 Years Ago

"Where would you like to go?" my best friend, Yoni, asked, laying sprawled across my bed.

I yanked another handful of clothes from my walk-in closet, tossing them toward an open suitcase. "Anywhere but here. Anywhere besides California. I'm tired of the people and the pitying looks I get."

My bedroom, usually a refuge of calm, looked like a bomb had hit it. The walls were painted a deep amethyst, warmed by the afternoon sun streaming through the large window. A plush, white faux-fur rug covered the dark hardwood floor, currently hidden under piles of clothes I'd deemed unworthy of a new life. The space was always tidy, reflecting my need for order, but now, it was a physical manifestation of my mental chaos.

"My God, Leah! Can you stop throwing stuff in that stupid suitcase? I know you're upset, but that doesn't mean you have to take your frustration out on your precious clothes," Yoni said, finally getting off the bed. She moved toward me, her arms full of purpose. "Come on, let me help you pack before you rip a seam."

I looked down at myself. I was wearing an oversized gray Howard University sweatshirt and black athletic shorts—my standard uniform for a bad mental health day. My curly black hair was pulled into a messy knot on my head.

These past few months had been rough. I hadn't been out with friends or family, hadn't eaten, or slept properly, all because of him... Ryland Rodriguez.

My ex. The love of my life. The man I thought I was going to spend my life with. He broke my heart, and I don't think it can ever be fixed. Ryland was the guy in high school and still is to this day.

No single description could capture his looks or personality, for he was truly something else. Ryland was tall—almost six feet—compared to my five-foot-five height. He had rich brown hair and the most intense, dark forest green eyes that always made you feel like he knew a secret about you that you didn't. He was muscular in all the right places, with a wonderful golden skin that practically glowed when he was outside. I almost wished I could forgive him for what he did to me. Almost.

"Leah, are you listening to me?" Yoni asked, clearly frustrated that I hadn't heard what she'd been talking about for the last ten minutes.

I stopped what I was doing and met her gaze. "Yeah... I'm listening, Yoni."

She crossed her arms, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Were you, really? Because it clearly looked like you were thinking about that fool of an ex-boyfriend."

"Yoni, I think I know where I want to go for that fresh start," I said, successfully changing the subject so I didn't have to listen to her trash Ryland any further.

"Where do you want to move to?" Yoni asked, an excited look finally replacing the frustration on her face.

"Well... I have this cousin named Santana in England, so I was thinking about moving in with her since she offered me that extra room in her house," I explained, tucking a loose curl behind my ear.

Yoni was the most supportive best friend a girl could ask for. We'd been friends since sixth grade. Yoni was a mix of Vietnamese and black. She was spontaneous, fiercely caring, and most of all, she didn't take bullshit from anyone.

At five-foot-six, with a curvy body and striking hazel eyes, she was beautiful. Her black hair was usually styled in long, immaculate braids, and her tan skin sometimes made people mistake her for being mixed with filipino. If I were a full lesbian, I'd definitely be crushing on her—that's how gorgeous she was.

Yoni was a fully out lesbian. Her parents didn't like it because, and I quote, "It's not healthy for anyone to be that way," but seeing that their daughter wasn't going to change, they eventually dealt with it.

We weren't complete opposites. We understood each other without verbal communication and shared the same core personality, though I was tamer because my parents believed that being too spontaneous was dangerous. In looks, however, we were different. I had curly black hair and light brown eyes, and I was brown-skinned. While she was thick and curvy, I was slimmer, maybe forty to fifty percent curvy.

I'm a mix of Costa Rican and South African.I was born in Russia while my parents were in their hippy vibe voice "travel and understand the world" phase. They raised me there until I was four, then it was Australia and other countries, which is why I still have a slight accent when I talk.

Because my parents believed school didn't teach people about the real world, I was home-schooled, so I never had friends for long periods of time.

"Leah! Leah! Pay attention!" I was snapped out of my trance by Yoni snapping her fingers and practically yelling in my face.

"What do you want, Yoni? I really want to be left alone to pack," I grumbled.

"Don't give me that look. All I wanted to ask was if I can come with you," she said while folding my clothes neatly and fitting them into the suitcase.

"You want to come with me to London?" I asked, shocked.

"Yes, I want to come with you! And we can get our own apartment, so you don't have to live with your cousin," she said, her voice brimming with excitement.

"If you really want to come, then be my guest, because—"

I was cut off by the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs. I gave Yoni a questioning look; I certainly wasn't expecting anyone. At all.

"Who could it be? It's not even noon yet, and we have people ringing our doorbell?" Yoni complained, zipping the suitcase shut and heading for the door.

"Shit. We must be really popular, or that person is really stupid. We could be asleep for all they know."

Yoni and I went downstairs. The front door was a heavy, dark oak, contrasting with the light gray walls of our spacious, two-story entryway. Yoni unlatched the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

And behold....