I let out a forced chuckle as I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, I hope so too.”
She studies me for a moment, chewing her lip, before reaching into her purse and pulling out an artsy pamphlet.
“She is taking my program,” she says, handing it to me. “Maybe if she won’t talk to you in Rome, she will talk to you in Florence.”
With a wink, she walks back to the museum, leaving me to look through the pamphlet on my own.
A year long art program in Florence?
And Zalea agreed to this?
Since when does Zalea like art?
I scan the QR code on the back of the pamphlet and I’m taken to a webpage that details everything about the academy. I copy the link and send it to Reid.
Gabriel:
She’s going to be taking this program. Figure out where she’s staying and get me a room right next to hers.
Reid:
Got it, Boss! Car rental too?
Gabriel:
If I’m going to be here for the next year, I’m buying a damn car.
Reid:
Any requests?
Gabriel:
Something vintage, red, and not chipmunk sized.
Reid:
Coming right up!
SEVEN
GABRIEL
TEN YEARS EARLIER
Saltwater Springs hasto be the most boring town in existence. No, really. Not even our pastel coloured cottage-style homes, or our small coastal town charm can make up for it. We rarely see new people move here, and the only excitement we actually get is during the summer when the tourists flood in to take over our beach.
This year it’s especially boring because my friends are more focused on hooking up with said tourists rather than catching waves. Not me though. I plan to go pro-level next year, so I can’t waste my time on temporary summer flings.
The beach is perfect today. Deserted because most of the town, and especially the tourists, don’t wake up before the sun is fully out, and it’s only just beginning to peak over the horizon.
I almost have the place all to myself.
Almost.
The only other person here isher.
Zalea Evans.
