Leyla Was Actually Forward To The Game, Watching Was Participating And No One Would Try To Make Her Do

"Exactly, I think it'd make the place cozier," Leyla said with a bit of a laugh. She had found it endearing. As an only child, she hadn't shared a lot of space before, except with lovers, so it had been...dare she say, a fun experience. "A therapist-mechanic, that's quite a career choice, well, if you're as good a mechanic as a therapist, I know where I'll take my car if I have trouble," she offered, only a light passing reference to the fact she knew he was a good one. "Well, that's true, some people overdue it. When people don't know what you're talking about, that's a problem. I like that name, is there a meaning behind it?" She always liked hearing people's stories behind why their animals were named certain things. "Wow, that is decent-sized. I guess they're probably somewhere around here today too?"

"Nothing inspires trust among roommates quite like setting up cameras to catch them doing all of the things that they thought they were getting away with," he teased, broad smile on his face. He also couldn't see Leyla being too uptight about someone snacking during off hours… although people could be picky about their food. "When I'm not a therapist, I'm a mechanic -- in a garage full of men with big appetites. You learn how to get creative," especially if you didn't want your food to just up and disappear, and Josh didn't. His father, alone, wouldn't hesitate to eat his goodies. "Apparently we can be! I try not to be that kind of person, though -- I've already had conversations with people who are talking about 'my son' this or, 'my kid' that, and then it takes me far too long to realize they mean a dog. But mine's Toshiko. Toshi for short. And I hope, for your sake, you never have to part from the adopted dogs," he teased, letting out a laugh. "She has four kids, so a pretty decent sized family."

"You're welcome," she said softly, "I actually picked this up at What's The Tea recently. Their tea is really fantastic." Watching as he grabbed a fork for his fruit, she then placed the teapot on the stove to heat the water. "I'm the employee I have to tell to go home," she offered with a bit of a laugh, "and still keep working." She had always been bad about giving up control, still trying to do absolutely everything herself. "I always liked school--well, the work part anyway." She was about to ask about the fun of lesson planning when he answered that himself. "Words easily blend together after a while, right?" She perked up at the mention of the dogs, her favorite roommates in all honesty. "If you ever need help with them, someone to check on them while you're in class or something, I love dogs."

"Thanks," he offered her a bright smile in return, before locating a fork, deciding not to be a total barbarian that afternoon and picking at the fruit in the bowl, chewing through a piece of pineapple thoughtfully. "Makes sense. You're your own boss, and you best employee, right?" Unless she had someone else who did the dirty work! And even then, she probably still deserved a raise. "I do, at the community college," he nodded. "This is the time of year where I start gearing up to teach again, hence the snack break. Lesson plans are only fun for so long," which could be sad about any type of work, he was sure. "That, and I gotta take the dogs out in a few."

Giving him a little nod that he had it right, Leyla offered a little smile with the finished result. It was already making their home feel cozier, which wasn't something she was used to...but she was getting there. She'd never experienced home in this way before, and it was foreign but warm. The ice around her seemed to melt in this space, as strange as that sounded. Placing the sheet of seeds into the oven as instructed, she listened as he talked a bit about his childhood. It sounded a bit like a movie or 60's TV show. She could just imagine a tinier Dare running around with his siblings and a warm-hearted mother figure gathering them up for holiday festivities. "It felt very much like you," she mused, "what are some other traditions from your mom?"

Seeing her gesture, Darrius stepped the tiniest bit to the side, glancing back up to see if he had it right, and then carefully securied it where it needed to be, stepping back to admire his handy work. Sure, it was a simple garland. Yes, it was probably laughable to most people who went all out for Halloween. But to Darrius, who liked the pumpkins and leaves and corn stalks and watching Casper and Hocus Pocus and The Great Pumpkin… it made him feel good. Turning back to the kitchen, he looked at the seeds that she spread out, and nodded his head, "looks great! I already set the oven, so we should just be able to pop 'em in and let them do their thing," and then they would have a tasty snack when their other housemates arrived home. "I do! My mom taught me how, she'd always make me and my siblings save our pumpkin guts just so we could make these."

Leyla knew she wasn't the only one who ever had bad life circumstances or a far from dream relationship with parents or family, so it was sort of an innate learning one had to do: find the good. It just wasn't always so innate. "Exactly, like riding a bike, I guess," she mused. As she suspected, he could go when he wanted. "Do you think you'd ever go back and live there or are you here to stay?" It was a question she asked herself a lot, especially with the idea of being known in such a small town. It made her want to run. "That's the dream, though, to have something that large that you can call your own. I used to watch Shark Tank all the time when I was younger, just wishing I could be in one of those seats someday."

Rafael's smile was lopsided, but sincere. He knew what she was talking about; if you could take one good thing out of a bad situation, it hadn't been for nothing. And sometimes even those bad situations had their reasoning for happening, whether or not you realized it at the time. But that was neither here nor there, and his thoughts shifted seamlessly to the idea of languages, nodding his head, "I can understand that, sort of all comes back to you." Listening to his mother talk to herself in Italian, or his father speaking Spanish on the phone, sometimes shifted things in his brain, as well. "Sometimes," he nodded. "But I'm lucky enough that I can take the trip when I like to, and there is the beach here, even if it's not quite the same," he grinned, at that thought. Different worlds, really. "By now, I'm used to it. But about the time that I got into real estate and realized that I had really, actually created something quite… large, it absolutely felt surreal."

"Boss with a painful tendency to micromanage and not leave work back at the booth where it belongs," she joked, "all these beautiful pumpkins and I'm thinking about whether I need to grab more cinnamon sticks on my way back." Work was still her main--and sometimes only--priority, but she really was trying to enjoy Creek Fest fully. This guy had actually probably done her a favor by bumping into her. "Good," she said with a light laugh, "and yes, I am offering. What do you need such a big pumpkin for anyway? Or is it some 'go big or go home' thing?"

Vince picked up the phone and handed it to her with a smile. He was glad that they narrowly avoided making the situation more awkward. Chuckling softly, he nodded. “Boring work call, I presume?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Vince laughed softly again, dropping his head. “Thankfully the children won’t be scarred by me being a clumsy fool,” he smiled. “But I could use some help if you’re offering too,”

Most people were reading fiction or memoirs, and she was reading like she was still in school. It's what she liked though, working made sense more than anything else did. "I did," she said proudly, "it's called Mawk Tales. The only bar you can feel safe to bring your kids too, but we do have smoothies and italian sodas if you don't want her having something called a mocktail." Finding the yellow swimsuit, she smiled warmly, "she looks like she's having a blast. Is she pretending you're not here or are you still cool?"

Wes lifted a brow in curiosity as Leyla explained the contents of the book she had been reading. It sounded kind of interesting, it definitely made sense. "You opened up the new mocktail place out this way, right?" He may not have had the chance to have checked it out yet, but he had certainly heard good things. He chuckled at the question of whether one of the tweens out on the shoreline was his. "Yeah, the one in the yellow swimsuit is mine," he laughed, "Arabella."

““I think I wait for people to hurt me,” she said quietly, “and when they do I feel a certain smugness at being right. And, after that, I just feel pain.”

— Sue Zhao (via blossomfully)

I don't think I'm meant for this world It wants me straight, but I huddle up and curl But I don't want to give up the fight It's black or white, it's wrong or right, and I am just a girl

Is it too late? For me? How will I be remembered when I leave?

Leyla had spent years, before and after him, trying to believe that, and it was one thing she still struggled to accept. She would hear her parents sigh when they had to pay for another treatment, even when her mother had always been the first to comment when she looked comfortable. She was a lot of work. But at the end of the day, it was love that wasn't enough. Love: the invisible concept that was supposed to make the world better. But it didn't. It was empty. Empty words, empty hopes, empty rooms. "Only you could say that after what you've done and I still believe you," she mused. When he said it, she felt a strange sense of comfort as if it were true. As if she weren't difficult or exhausting, as if she were worth loving...

It was good while it lasted, from go, he was magnetic. He was her hero, swooping in to save her at the right moment. Back then, when she had believed in love, she used to love with every part of her being. Like an electric current that kept her alive. Even through all their troubles, they felt possible to overcome. Because they were together. She may not have survived without him, and she was almost surprised she did when she lost him. Her anorexia fueled anew by spite, and it was almost a blaze that consumed her entirely. The memory made her weak, fragile heart start to pound in her chest. No one could save her that time, she had to learn to save herself. Maybe he deserved some thanks for that.

Suddenly, she was hyperaware of the busy world around them: laughing children, people splashing in the water, running around, happily chatting about how great the day was. It was hardly the place for this, especially by the exhausted looks of him, so she nodded, "okay. Maybe you can come to Mawk Tales after closing sometime--I don't live alone." She looked over at him, not sure what to say, "enjoy the rest of your day, Vitus." Then she paused and added, "I think I mean that."

"No. It was never exhausting," he said, his voice sturdier despite his lingering tears. This was one truth that hadn't changed in all the years that had passed between them: "Loving you was the easy part."

It was true—he'd tripped over his clumsy feet and fallen straight into her when they met. Some nights were more difficult than others, certainly, but Vitus attributed that to their circumstances more than any personal faults. His love for Leyla had known no limits in its intensity. It had burned through him like wildfire, scorching every inch and edge of his skin, dizzying him with head-smoke. That all-consuming heat had lit him up during a time in his life when everything else inside him felt wholly, horribly dark. Vitus had fled to California after he lost her, searching for anything else that burned like she did, and what he found in Los Angeles almost killed him. It would be a lie, to say he didn't utterly regret losing Leyla the way he did.

"I'm sorry, I'm just—" At a loss for an appropriate adjective, Vitus gestured at the all of himself. Sleep still dragged at his eyelids. He was battling a weed-and-liquor hangover, and his hands had begun to twitch in search of a cigarette, any kind of reprieve from discomfort. Vitus rubbed his face and sniffled again, grateful the tears had begun to slow, at least. "Can we—if it's not too much to ask. Can we meet somewhere else, please? Somewhere private. And I can answer every question you have then." No way would he be able to give her anything close to satisfaction, caught off guard on the middle of a beach like this.