“Two can play, asshole, two can play.”
Bending over, I pick up the plastic, kid’s toy, then hurry to my swing. Toilet paper first. I scoop up as much as I can, dumping it all in the tub before storming around to the neighbor’s side.
As I creep along the side of his truck, something shiny glimmers in the dark. A shiny toolbox in the bed catches my eye in the night light.
My smile grows.
Opening the box, I toss the wet bucket of goop inside, then slam the lid closed. It clings, the sound reverberating through my cold bones as I turn and storm back to my porch. Working as quickly as I can in the dark and rain, I scoop up all of the sand that I can and haul it back to his truck. After dumping the third bucket in his tools, I check the door.
“Stupid idiot.” I roll my eyes as it opens. Shrugging, I toss the soggy contents inside, not even bothering to shut his door as I hurry back to my porch. If he wants to prank me, maybe he should at least lock up his truck. As is, he’s just asking for it. Tilting my chin up a little higher, I dump the final scoop of sand I could gather in his seat and shut his door.
I toss the sand bucket in the back of his truck as I head back to my place, a smile on my face that nothing can get rid of. Even as the rain picks up, making it hard to see even a few feet in front of me, I hold my head high. Triumph. Definitely a triumph.
I’m soaked, covered in sand, and there’s no way I can sweep all of the remnants of beach off my porch right now, but at least I paid him back. “Checkmate,” I sing as I climb my steps. As I pad across my porch, I step on a small, hard pokey thing. “What the hell?” Bending down, I pick up the offending thing and twirl it in front of my face. It’s almost like a stick, but with a piece of soggy paper attached. “Again, what the hell?”
Shaking my head, I carry it inside. I flip on my lights and freeze, staring at the object in my hand.
A flag. It’s a flag or at least was at some point, made of a twig with a white triangle glued to it. The longer I stare at it, I notice something black on one side of the paper triangle. As water drips down my hair onto my face, I squint to make out the smeared design on the white paper.
Do you want to make a castle with me?
My chest tightens along with my grip on the little flag. It wasn’t a giant mess that he dumped on my porch.
It was a castle.
He built me a castle.
Closing my eyes, the flag falls from my grasp, landing with a small splash in the puddle I’ve made. Water continues to drip onto my tile floor from my soaked clothes, soft pings mirroring the rain still pouring outside.
Eventually, I pry my clothes off and head to my bathroom. What’s done is done. At least this way, maybe he’ll finally leave me alone.
Waking up hours later, I rub my eyes and glance at the clock. Even though I slept for five hours, it feels like I just hit the mattress. After a long, hot shower, it took me hours to clean up all the water and sand I tracked in. The sun was coming up by the time I finally finished. Then I tossed and turned my entire short nap, visions of half-naked men with green eyes, sand castles, and toilet paper swirled in my head. At least my migraine is gone.
Peeling my sticky shirt from my sweaty body, I toss it on the floor along with my blankets that somehow fell off the bed with all my thrashing. Guess I’m washing them again. If the sheets weren’t drenched, I’d probably just roll back over and go back to sleep until I could wake up in a better mood. Knowing my luck, though, there’d be more shirtless, dancing men in my dreams and I’d probably just wake up even more frustrated. Guess that whole two year dry spell thing is finally catching up to me.
After another quick shower, I feel a little better. More awake at least, still just as frustrated. Too bad the battery on my vibrator died. I’m pretty certain Viv must have grabbed it during one of my naps and just turned it on full blast for a few hours to wear it down. Either that or I need to buy a new one. Pursing my lips, I consider the odds. I better buy a new one to be safe. Pulling on a charcoal, oversized sweater that falls off one shoulder and a pair of jean shorts, I twist my hair into a messy bun, then stick my tongue out at the mirror.
It’s trying. Kind of trying.Not by Viv’s standards, but not all of us can fall out of bed beautiful. Before I debate how much I’m actually trying to adult any further, my stomach growls.
"Yep," I mutter, poking my belly, "time to put some food in you." That is a need I can fulfill.
I probably should start eating more than two meals per day. I’m hangry. That’s gotta be what this funk is. Food deprivation is causing the synapses in my brain to misfire, or whatever it is that makes my brain work.
As I meander toward the kitchen, a slightdrip, drip, dripcatches my attention. I take another step, then freeze. Okay, it’s a little more than a drip. It sounds eerily like the rainstorm hitting my deck last night.
Except, it’s bright and sunny out all of my windows, early evening in all her glory and all. Guess I woke up a little sooner than I planned. I glance back at my bathroom, definitely no noise coming from there.
My mouth falls open staring at my back door, where the downpour continues, a whispered curse hanging on the tip of my tongue.
No rain outside, but a steady stream of water drops keep assaulting my deck.
The outside shower.
“Shit.”
My heart races, scenario after scenario flying through my mind.It could be another prank. Or maybe there’s a serial killer out there trying to lure me outside. By turning on my shower. Right. I roll my eyes and slap my head, still, I tiptoe into the spare bedroom and grab my baseball bat just in case.
Sucking in a deep breath, I pause by the back door and put my sunglasses on, then count to three. I ease the door open and creep outside, glancing side to side.