“Ugh!” She exhaled, and then wrapped a towel around her chest before scurrying into her room. Her writing notebook was still in her bag, and that was in the front seat of her car. She repeated the words in her head faster this time, hoping they didn’t slip away as quickly as they had appeared.
“Ah-ha!” She triumphantly pulled an envelope from a stack of unopened mail. Pens were easier to find. She grabbed a ballpoint next to her bed and frantically jotted down the lyrics on the back of the envelope. She read them again aloud and hummed a few bars in a minor key. She smiled.
A shampoo trail slid along her temple. “Crap.” She touched the foamy mess still in her hair and hesitantly left the envelope on her bed, walking back to the shower with one eye on the envelope. Maybe if she stared hard enough, the rest of the song would come.
Not knowing how much time she had actually spent in the shower before her burst of lyrical genius, she reset the timer for five minutes and rinsed her hair.
The lyrics came at the strangest moments. Sometimes it happened when there was a guitar on her knee and her writing journal within arm’s reach, but usually it was completely inconvenient and random like this morning—the words hit her like an unexpected burst of energy, needing to be expended in that moment or she would spontaneously combust—at least it always felt that way.
Haven twisted her hair between her palms and squeezed the water from her hair. She didn’t want to go to work before the song had hit her like a blast of cold air from the freezer hitting her in the face, but now the thought of standing in the store all day made her grit her teeth. She needed to finish it. She had to. If she called in sick, her mother would stop by, setting off a chain reaction from her aunts that would last all day. If she tried to take the day off, her father would never cease with the lectures on responsibility and setting a good example for the other employees.
Good example, she huffed. Her father’s every move was a bad example. It annoyed her to her core how self-righteous he was when she knew how he spent his nights and sometimes his afternoons. Just being in the same room with him made her sick.
He gave her one more reason to leave Perry Island. She wasn’t finished chasing her dream, and the longer she stayed, the more she had to put it on hold. Just like the lyrics on the back of that envelope.
She grabbed a towel and dried herself before stepping into a pair of khaki shorts and a fitted T-shirt donning the logo for the island store where she worked.
It was dark as she walked to the side of the cottage. It was an oversized beach house that had been divided into four apartments. Haven had one of the lower corner units. There was a view of the cove from the deck. Luckily, the last renter had left a hammock, and it was her favorite spot to summon the lyrics in her head.
It had been a battle with her parents to have her own place for the summer. They couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to live at home. She didn’t understand why they didn’t accept her adult status in life. Did everyone who graduated from college and was on the brink of turning twenty-three have to deal with this? It would have been completely unbearable living under the same roof as her dad. There was no backing down on her part; she fought until they both gave in.
She pulled a turquoise beach cruiser from the bike stand. The island was small. Everything was within riding distance. Haven rode to most places, enjoying the snippets of freedom the bike gave her. She threw her leg over the bike and pushed down on the pedal.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Travis beamed as Haven reached behind him for an apron.
He moved closer so that her arm grazed the firm muscles in his shoulder. The pair was almost eye level, and when he was this close, Haven could see deep flecks of amber in his dark eyes.
“Hey.” She stepped back, slipped the straps over her neck, and tied the strings tightly around her waist. Nothing was more unflattering than these canvas aprons her father made everyone who worked at Owen’s General Store wear.
“I’ve had better greetings,” the store clerk teased. He had stopped sweeping. He leaned against the broom handle with one arm while his free hand roamed Haven’s hip, resting on the curve of her waist. His palm felt warm through the thinness of her T-shirt.
Haven rolled her eyes. “I’m not a morning person. You know this.” She tugged at his wrist, working herself free.
“I wouldn’t forget something like that.” He smiled. She noticed he was overdue for a haircut. However, most surfers let their hair grow long in the summer. Travis wasn’t any different.
“Just stop with the chipper-chipperness.” Her cheeks flushed pink with the memory of waking up under Travis’s tanned arms. That had been two days ago. She glanced over his shoulder and read the clock above the register. 5:45. Even with rushing around, she was still fifteen minutes late. God, she had to get out of here.