Someone Else's Ocean

“So facking wrong! Eish! All of this is wrong!” More silence, then, “That should have been brought to my attention a year ago!”

Ripping my eyes away from his muscular thighs, I found myself screaming along with him. “Hey, take that brawl inside, crocky!”

Ian glared at me and I swore he bared teeth as he made his way up his porch steps. I was dismissed as he began his pacing on the faded wood giving me a view of his muscular back.

“A little louder, I don’t think everyone on the island is awake yet,” I muttered as he continued his rant.

“Fine. I want a call within the hour.” Ian ended his call and threw his cell on one of the porch chairs before opening his screen without glancing my way.

“Hey!” I interjected as he paused his retreat and glanced my way. “Look, buddy, I’m all for getting a point across, but can we not do it at seven in the morning while our neighbor is sleeping?”

“Fine. Right.” He slammed the door behind him.

?

??I accept your apology!”

His voice drifted through the open windows in his living room. “I didn’t offer one, miss.”

“Koti. My name is Koti and you damn well know it. And from what I remember you were all about formalities and manners, Mr. Kemp, so how about showing some common courtesy?”

The only way to get privacy between our two houses was to shut them up completely. Even then, without a little white noise, you could hear a lot.

Fact: People have a lot of sex on vacation. A lot of sex.

The rumble of Ian’s voice drifted through the air. “It’s rude to listen to other people’s conversations.”

“As if I had a choice!”

“Who’s screaming now?”

“Well, we’re both up now anyway, thanks to you.”

He stayed mute as I growled from my own porch.

Koti Vaughn, you need this commission.

Minutes after my first sip of coffee, I found my calm in the crash of the waves on our shared beach. Ian made his way onto his porch dressed in his slacks from the day before, his own cup in hand. Wrinkled and wrecked were the best words to describe him and I couldn’t help the tug of recognition of the state of his distress yesterday. Mustering up some patience, I made another effort to extend the olive branch. “I’ll be by with your groceries at noon. I didn’t get a chance to check your water levels so let me know if you’re running low. My phone number is in the book on the counter, text me if you want me to pick up anything else for you.”

His reply was a curt nod.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you at noon.”

“That bad, huh?” Jasmine’s eyes surveyed me in my zombie-like state. I managed to throw on a sundress and applied some sunblock and deodorant before I made it out of my house. I left the state of my wet hair up to my Jeep.

“Nice hair.”

“Bite me and he’s a nightmare. He’s hurt, but hard to sympathize with. He spent half the night putting holes in his ceiling and the morning screaming into his cell phone.”

Jasmine filled a fresh cup of coffee and put it on my desk. “Is he hot?”

I sat back in my chair and winced due to the building throb in my skull.

“He’s a headache.”

“A hot headache?”

“He’s handsome, I guess.”