It was almost nine pm and I was the only one awake—or so, I thought.

I sat by my window, watching the trees sway and cars pass with my old life playing in my mind like an old movie; a silent film.

I thought about Anna, the girl whose name I still couldn't remember, Rosalyn, and of course Kristin. Every now and then, I'd see Jay's face appear between flashes of my childhood and my stay in Greenwich, but he was like an extra in the film.

I tightened my arms around my legs, pinning my knees to my chest and resting my chin against them. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss his voice. He was like a brother to me in more ways than one, but at times it felt like he didn't understand me.

I heard creaking so I turned my head to look over my shoulder. The moonlight created squares and rectangles, but I only noticed when they covered Ethan like a projector to a wall.

"You're up," he said but it sounded like a question. His eyebrows were drawn in and he crossed his arms. I slowly sat up and let my knees fall, sitting cross-legged.

"Yeah," I dragged my answer and it too resembled a question, flicking my gaze from left to right before they settled on him. I scrunched my face in amusement, and said, "You seem surprised."

"I mean," he trailed off, bringing a hand behind his head while the other fell to his side. He rubbed his neck and cleared his throat."Well, what're you doing up?"

I looked out of the window again and shrugged, my smile fading.

"I was just—reminiscing." I heard the weak floorboard which let me know that he was approaching me.

He sat beside me and crossed his legs but didn't say much. He laid his slender arms over his knees with his back slouched. I watched behind his thin glasses as his blue eyes bounced from object to object

I opened my mouth to ask him why he came into my room, but he interrupted me to ask, "Why'd you move here?"

I furrowed my eyebrows and chuckled, then said, "What's the matter, you don't want me here anymore?" He looked at me without an expression so I relaxed my face and shrugged. "I don't know. I was planning on moving anyway so I figured, why not come to California?"

"But Julian of all places?" He raised an eyebrow. "This place is practically off the grid. Most people who move to California go to LA."

"Maybe I prefer a less flashy life," I said before glancing at the town at rest. "You make it seem like there's nothing to do in this town."

"I mean," he dragged his words, his face scrunched like he was cringing. "I'm not wrong. Most of the good restaurants are either too expensive or not here; My folks used to travel to San Diego for their anniversary dinners."

I let out a humored breath through my nose. I understood his confusion. On the bus, I remember thinking how dead the town looked.

Instead of sidewalks and grassy terrain, there was orange and beige sand. I expected tall palm trees, but there were only oak trees near the neighborhoods and businesses.

There weren't any colorful, pocket-sized birds like Robins or Bluejays. I saw crows perched on telephone lines, vultures swarming near the freeways, a few woodpeckers thwacking the sides of trees and abandoned buildings, and the occasional quail eating near the roads.

I knew that Julian was nothing close to LA in terms of distance and popularity, but I didn't think it would be like moving to Arizona.

"But, regardless of why you chose to move here, I'm glad that you did," he said and I slowly peeled my eyes off the silhouette of mountains in the distance to look at him.

He had a half smile and lowered eyebrows, but he was endearing. As he turned to the view, I felt my attention drifting to his jaw. I followed the hairless trail until I reached his chin, then I lifted my gaze to his lips.

He had a tiny hole just below the center of his bottom lip and it was mainly visible in the bright, grey, square-shaped, moonlight.

"Thank you for agreeing to write about Greenwich." My voice was low like I was whispering, but he heard me.

He smirked and looked at me. His eyes skimmed me up and down, then he said, "No need to thank me. This boring town needed a good story. Thank you for trusting me enough to print it."

Maybe it was the lighting, perfectly shining on his face to give him porcelain-like skin. It could've been how close he was sitting to me, and how his knees would tap mine whenever he spoke. Maybe even the smell of nutmeg and musk wafting off his skin and clothes.

Something made me lean in and press my lips to his. It barely lasted a second before he jerked back to break the kiss, but in that short time, my mind was blank for once.

"What the hell?" He quickly stood up and I felt my face warming like I was close to a heater.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry." I pushed myself to my feet and placed one hand on my hip and the other against my lips.

"Listen, I'm sorry if I gave you mixed signals or the wrong impression of me, but," he paused and my heart started thumping against my chest. It reminded me of when someone would frantically bang on a door. "I don't kiss before the first date." My heart skipped a beat and I furrowed my eyebrows. In a less hostile voice accompanied by that endearing smile and sarcasm, he said, "At least let me take you out to eat."

I exhaled the breath I didn't realize I was holding and felt my heart drop into my stomach. I lowered my hand and my head, then I shut my eyes. A chuckle turned into light laughter as I shook my head.

He reminded me of Lorenzo—the man I met when I was barhopping. He seemed larger than life but in a subdued way. It's like that person who somehow becomes the center of attention just by smiling and speaking.

"Maybe we could go to one of those restaurants your parents went to." I sat my hands on my hips and he crossed his arms.

"Not a chance. You don't look like you eat caviar or veal," he said, walking backward with me in tow.

"I don't even know what either of those things are." He chuckled at me before turning at the heels.

We stopped at the ladder before he faced me. It was like saying goodbye to your date underneath the porch light with butterflies swarming in your stomach, and your heart racing.

I wanted to kiss him again just because of his gentle voice and sense of humor, but I didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"McDonald's it is then." I raised an eyebrow as he lowered himself onto the first two steps. He held the sides and took another set of steps down until only his head was peeking through the entry. "Goodnight, Helen."

"Goodnight, Ian," I said, teasing him. I was standing over him in a long black T-shirt and a pair of flannel pants similar to his.

He narrowed his eyes and corrected me, "It's Ethan."

"I know." We stared at each other as I walked toward my cot and when I sat on the edge, he finally cracked a smile, then shook his head. "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, Ellen." The ladder creaked as he walked down the steps.

***

My arms were like steel rods, struggling to remain upright. They burned and ached as if I were lifting weights, but it was those dishes giving me a workout.

I didn't understand why I had to clean up after everyone and why they seemed to use every plate, cup, and pan knowing they didn't have to clean it.

"I tell you the truth, Helen, if you worked as a cleaning lady, I don't know what made them keep you 'long," Ms. Hanes said, standing over me in a dress and an apron with her arms crossed. "I expect to be done with dinner by next week at this rate."

"I would probably be quicker if I had help," I mumbled. I flicked on the water, then tugged the sprayer until it was close to the dish I held over the sink. I pressed the button and watched the water flow like that from a shower, sliding the suds off the edges and into the drain.

She narrowed her eyes at me and said, "Everyone here either has a job or is on disability."

I thought about the old man in the wheelchair they would push into the dining room. He breathed heavily like he had lung issues and could only say a few words before he became winded, so he just stared at everyone.

"Well, it's not like I'm not planning on working." I set the dish on the wooden rack, then grabbed a glass cup from the pile. "I checked the papers and I went around town, but no one's hiring."

"Everyone's hiring, Helen, I don't believe that for one moment." I shook my head and pressed my lips shut to avoid arguing. One thing my parents taught me was not to go back and forth with the elderly.

"This place is underfunded." I looked up so fast that a pop sound rang through my ears from behind them. I stood there with a sponge in one hand and the cup in the other, turning my head to look over my shoulder. "Everyone's hiring but they're not wasting money on someone unqualified."

Ethan was leaning against the arch between the foyer and kitchen. Ms. Hanes said, "You're home early," and he nodded.

"Yeah, I spoke to my boss about this story I'm writing." He looked at me, smiled, then returned his attention to her and she followed his gaze. "She read what little I have and told me to finish it as soon as possible."

"So, you left work and came home?" Her eyebrows were drawn in and she narrowed her eyes as if it didn't make sense.

"I promise I'm not here to slack off," he said, dragging his words in a slightly higher tone. Ethan took a breath, then lifted his hand toward me before allowing it to fall to his side. "I actually need to speak to Helen."

She glanced at me, then asked him, "What for?"

"It's about a job opening." I looked at her, then at him. Instead of waiting for her approval, I set the glass and sponge in the sink, then I walked with quick steps toward the front door. "It'll only take a second."

He rushed the words out before sprinting after me. When we stepped onto the porch, despite being under the awning and engulfed in the shade, the sun was beaming down harder than it did in the Carolinas.

He wore dark blue khaki shorts and a white t-shirt over a long-sleeved shirt. The sleeves had black and white stripes like a lemur tail.

I wore ivy green capris, a long beige and white tank top, and white flip-flops.

Even with the light clothing, the sun seemed to pierce through the layers and burn my skin like grease popping off a pan.

"I'm glad you showed up when you did. I was losing my mind," I said in a sharp tone. We made our way toward the swing and sat in our places from the day before with me by the road and him closer to the house.

He chuckled and told me, "She has that effect on people. She's a nice lady though, so don't take it to heart."

"Don't take it to heart?" I raised my eyebrows and let my jaw drop. "Ethan, I'm scrubbing dishes like I'm the help."

"To be fair, you're not working and you agreed to help cook and clean." He clenched his teeth and wrinkled the skin around his nose. I closed my mouth and looked toward the road. "I mean, I understand though. I saw how high they were in the sink."

I hadn't been there long, but they made me regret relocating. A part of me wished that I'd stayed in Columbia and joined the fight against Lou and her staff. I probably would've taken a settlement, but at least I wouldn't have had to scrub someone's dish for a room.

"What'd you want me for," I asked without looking at him.