Moving day. Such a glorious, exciting day. A few hours of driving and multiple doses of medicine to prevent the dogs from throwing up in my car preceded by a greasy gas station breakfast burrito. Yeah, you should envy me.

The house… it’s nice, I guess. I’m neither a pessimist or an optimist, I’m sorta in between, so I don’t think it’s “just enough” or “could be more.” I think it’s fine the way it is and it is perfectly sustainable for me.

The neighborhood is decent - it’s not too shabby, and people are happy here. I hope I’m happy too, except I don’t have anyone to be happy with. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone here, if this place is all it’s cracked up to be.

The second I got here I took the dogs inside and started unloading the boxes from the moving truck that had followed me all the way here. The boxes are filled with random junk from my past - trophies, awards, certificates, dolls, all that. Dang. When my overly sentimental mother was helping me pack, she must have snuck these in the box from my clearly labeled “trash” bin.

I was in the middle of disposing of the empty trash bin and moving it to the pile of other empty boxes and bins when footsteps startled me.

“Need any help?”

I whip around only to see…

Oh my gosh.

Christian.

“Oh wow… hi, Christian. Do you remember me?”

He widens his eyes as he takes me in. “Lindy. Yes, I do.” The last time I saw him was at the prom, where he dumped me. After that my parents conveniently decided to move and I never saw him again.

His eyes are hard steel, just like his muscles. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tank top…

He clears his throat. I blush deeply. He must have seen me staring at his massive muscles. “Would you like to come eat lunch with me? I take it you just moved here, and I could show you around.”

I had to stop my jaw from gaping. Dang, he moved quick. A date already? I mean… it would be our second first date, but still.

“Sure! That would be nice.” I smile. I’m only now realizing how much I’ve missed him.

He does too, and then looks back at his house. “Great. And my wife is an extrovert and knows practically everything about this neighborhood, so is it alright if I bring her too?”

Wife? Oh shit, I suck at reading signals.