Page 9 of Like First Love, Again

Pushing aside the past she was tired of thinking about, Mia focused on the present. What was done was done, and there was no sense in thinking about it anymore. Tori was coming over at some point today, and the thought alone filled Mia with a hope she hadn’t felt in so long.

Her attention drifted to the pool house again. Her mom had installed a basketball hoop on the side so Tori could shoot baskets from the pool. It had a rusted rim and a bent corner, but it was still there. The pain in her chest eased. Her mom had always loved Tori. If she was watching from some Great Beyond, she was sure that she’d be relieved that Tori was jumping in to help.

Well,jumpwas a generous term, but Mia always had toencourageTori a little. If she didn’t, Tori wouldn’t have gotten her driver’s license. The memory of Tori covered in sweat, knuckles literally white from gripping the wheel of the Volvo, and getting over her unreasonable fear of driving on the highway made Mia chuckle out loud.

Lost in the best time of her life, Mia relaxed. Her breaths came easily for the first time that morning. She stopped short of wondering whether she’d do it all differently if she’d gotten a spoiler for the first part of her adult life.

Five

Leaving a dozen discarded outfits on her usually tidy bed, Tori walked out of her loft in tailored white pants, camisole, a loose white top, and her favorite mint green suede loafers. The likelihood of torrential afternoon rain in the summer was all but guaranteed, but it was still morning and the sky was an uninterrupted blue canvas. Plus, she kept backup sandals in the trunk.

It was only when she woke up at sunrise to run with her club that Tori realized two rather glaring issues with her day. Mia hadn’t told her what time to go by the house, and she hadn’t left her phone number. Tori blamed her brain having shriveled into a raisin upon the twin shocks of seeing Mia unexpectedly and learning that her mother died. A momentary lapse that wouldn’t be repeated.

A folder full of forms and agreements tucked under her arm, she crossed into the garage attached to her building. Normally, she’d have sent all the documents for Mia’s review over email, but she didn’t have that address either. Pulling out of her assigned space, she forgave herself for being unprepared. Shehadn’t sold a residential property in so long; it was normal to be rusty. Yeah, that was it.

Joining the throng of cars crawling onto the highway, she took her usual route to work. Except this time she was going back to the house she never expected to see again. For years, she’d successfully avoided coming within a three-block radius.

Tori forced herself to release her death grip on the steering wheel. This didn’t have to be a whole thing. She’d have Mia email the executed forms when she was done and she’d send an assistant to stage and photograph the house. It’s not like she’d have to keep seeing Mia. And anyway, Tori had only been thrown by the unannounced visit. She didn’t have feelings for her anymore. She didn’t even freaking know her.

Fifty minutes later, Tori’s Jeep was turning down a street that had barely changed in fourteen years. Old trees blanketed the residential road in shade and complimented the 1920s Spanish-style homes. The City of Coral Gables’ notoriously Draconian—and definitely snobby—Board of Architects made sure that everyone’s house fit the same manicured, Mediterranean aesthetic.

Tori smiled at the memory of Grisel going before the board to plead for a variance to paint her house a color outside the pre-approved list. When she lost, she painted the house stark white in personal protest.

Lungs burning when she rolled to a stop in front of Mia’s house, Tori forced herself to breathe. She’d forgotten about Grisel’s Volvo until seeing it parked in its usual spot in the driveway. She hadn’t anticipated that it would shove her down a rabbit hole of fond memories. Clawing her way out of it before she could drown in the nostalgia, Tori jumped out of the Jeep and took long strides up the walkway.

A chunk of yellow paper wedged into the jamb of the arched wooden door made Tori hesitate. Even half hidden, itstrapezoidal shape was apparent. When the nuns at their high school banned cell phones during school hours, they’d gone back to theye oldepassing of notes between classes. The sisters of solitude hadn’t loved that either, but it had been an acceptable lesser evil.

Tori’s heart jumped on a treadmill when she pulled the note free. They’d passed each other thousands of notes. She could still smell them burning in the dirt on her first summer home from college. Her then-girlfriend had been right, and she’d known it even when it felt like she was setting part of herself on fire. To get over Mia, she had to purge her from her life.

She unfolded the note without ripping it because her fingers still remembered how.

Let yourself in!

p.s. can you believe I remembered how to make one of these lol I won’t remember my freaking password when I get back to work, but this I couldn’t forget!

p.s.s. fine I had to practice a few times—don’t judge

p.s.s.s WHY ARE YOU STILL READING!? COME ON!

p.s.s.s.s. Are you still reading because you’re not Tori? If you’re an axe-murderer, then you should know the door is unlocked, but I have a 200 pound Rottweiler that will def eat your face. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED

Tori laughed, her skin dancing with heat and easing tension.

Despite the unhinged invitation, Tori knocked on the door that had been painted a rich blue. While she waited for Mia to answer, she imagined Grisel’s delight at having gotten such a bold color approved by the city.

When Mia didn’t come to the door, Tori tried the buzzer. Nothing.

It was too weird to just walk into her house. To a place she hadn’t been in so long. To see someone she wasn’t friends withanymore. It was too familiar. Too intimate. She was just there to do a favor for someone in need, not rekindle a dead friendship.

Tori considered leaving the folder on the welcome mat, but she thought of all the things that could go wrong. Papers flying down the street, a stranger picking them up, looking childish and unprofessional.

Muscle memory made Tori try the doorknob and madness made her pull it open. She was just going to drop the folder inside and go. She wasn’t a weirdo for not wanting to traipse through a stranger’s house. Who the hell even left a note like that, anyway?

“Mia? It’s Tori,” she projected as loudly as possible. “I came to drop off the listing agreement and some stuff for you to review.” She leaned in through the doorway.

It was like stepping into a dream. The house smelled the same. Lemon-pine cleaner and wood and sunshine on linen. She drifted through the small foyer and into the living room packed wall-to-wall with things.

“Mia?” she called again. The four-bedroom house wasn’t that big. Mia should hear her calling from the living room that acted as its heart.

---