Nora
Our meeting was predetermined, I believe that wholeheartedly. It was fate.
Him.
Always him.
I’ve been searching for him for almost twelve years. And I always wonder if he’s been searching for me too. A long time has passed, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten, it doesn’t mean I will ever give up.
I was drawn to him in a way that was consuming and real and undying, and he felt it too. But circumstances beyond our control separated us and I will try everything to find him. I always will.
Twelve hours seems like nothing. Insignificant, pointless, minuscule in the grand scheme of things, but to us, to that day, that night, it meant everything.
Elliot
I firmly believe I was meant to find her; it wasn’t a chance meeting. It was fate.
Her.
Always her.
She disappeared without warning. One minute she was there and the next she was gone. No goodbye, no note to tell me where she went. Words left unsaid and an opportunity missed.
She was unlike anyone I’ve ever met and my obsessive need to be close to her overwhelmed me, yet calmed me. I needed her like I needed the air I breathe.
It’s been a long time, nearly twelve years, but she still consumes my thoughts. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her. One day I will find her again. I won’t stop. She will always be mine.
Twelve hours was all we spent together, a small amount of time, but to me, to us, it changed lives.
Part One: Nora
Chapter One
Twelve Years Ago- San Diego
He smiles at me from across the room and even his gorgeous eyes and beautiful smile can’t wipe this filthy look from my face.
I’ve been awkwardly standing here for at least two hours wondering where the fuck my sister is and if she’s ever coming back.
When my dad sent me out to California to help her get settled in her new apartment, I expected it to be everything awful and more. So far it’s been even worse than expected.
I’m at a frat party, in a disgusting house with a slew of drunken assholes, none of which I know, and my sister has disappeared with a guy she just met. I should probably be worried. That’s why I’m here. My dad sent me to be the voice of reason, to be her keeper, but I couldn’t give a shit.
“Alice needs your help,” my father said as he practically shoved me onto the airplane.
“She doesn’t need my help,” I retorted back, my teenage attitude in place. “She needs therapy.”
“Nora,” he added firmly, “Alice is trying to find herself. The death of your mother has been hard on her. Right now she needs a friend and who better to do that than her younger sister.”
“So paying for her to “find herself” in California is your way of helping her?” I asked, quoting his term back to him.
The death of our mother was hard on both of us, my father, too. It wasn’t unexpected, but that doesn’t mean it was easy. She had been sick for a long time, eventually losing her life to brain cancer. It was a struggle for all of us and still is. But like everything in life, you move on, try to make the best of what you have. I have my father, a wonderful, hardworking man with a serious love for his daughters. We have never wanted for anything and while it had no adverse affects on me, it made Alice feel like the world owed her something.
Our mother died the summer Alice was to leave for college, and instead of carrying on with her life, Alice opted to wallow by taking the year off and traveling around Europe. She came home with several tattoos, a serious drinking habit and a possible STD, which she still won’t admit to.
And here we are, two years later and Alice is still attempting to move on with more tattoos, more alcohol and more boys, but now she’s in California.
She appealed to my father’s sentimental side and his inability to say no to his daughters, by telling him she wanted to spend some time living where our mother once lived. Telling him it might help her connect with her and find the strength to move on.
Alice is a master manipulator and has a flair for the dramatic, but I have to hand it to her, it’s paid off in her favor more times than not.
But here I find myself, alone, without Alice, although I’m supposed to be assisting her in “finding herself” and just the thought has me incredibly pissed off.
I have my own life and my own chance to “find myself”. I say this like I mean it, yet the idea is so fucking stupid I can’t believe I even thought it. I’m heading off to college in a few weeks, where I don’t need to find myself. I know what I want to do and I’m ready to start my life. A life that doesn’t include Alice and all her drama.
I have to stick this shit show out for one more day and then I’ll be back in Boston, living my quiet existence.
As of right now, despite the gorgeous blue eyes of this guy, I’ve had nothing to distract me from wanting to get home.
I watch him as his smile remains and he makes his way across the crowded room to where I’m standing with a beer in hand and a don’t-fuck-with-me look on my face. It begins to fade the closer he gets and I hear his slight chuckle just as he’s about to reach me.
I can’t help but smile when he stops in front of me and says, “That look is killer. I hope it’s not directed at me.”
“Nah,” I say, shaking my head, my harsh demeanor already fading fast. “It’s for someone who isn’t here and even if she were, she wouldn’t notice.”
I watch him shoot me a curious but devious look, and I immediately process what I’ve just said. I laugh out loud and he grins shamelessly at me. “Nothing like that, you pervert. My sister.”
“Oh, that’s good because I’m about to hit on you,” he says and adds a wink as he steps closer to me.
“Awfully confident for a guy who smells like he’s wearing more alcohol than he’s drunk.”
“That stings,” he says, his hands placed over his heart. “But I’m not sure you should be so particular in your choice of company, seeing as you’ve been standing here alone for the better part of two hours.”
This boy is cheeky and part of me finds him strangely endearing. He’s cute in that California surfer way. A deep tan, bleached out hair, a pair of low-slung shorts and a lovingly worn-in t-shirt. But what gets me is his perfect smile and striking blue eyes. There’s a kindness to him, an almost natural way that makes me feel instantly comfortable in his presence.
“Who says I’m looking for company?” I quip back and he laughs.
“You’re a tough one, but I’m always up for a challenge.”
“I’m not much of a fighter and if you’re looking to get laid, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Oh, again with the witty remark,” he says as his fingers tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear. When his fingers brush my cheek, an electric shock runs through my body causing me to shudder at this touch. “Of course I’m always looking to get laid, I’m a guy, but with you, I’d rather know what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”