I weigh things up. Staying here feels like torture. I’m a mess, and I’m starting to worry about my mental health.
The move is so close, yet so far.
Even though paying a lease break penalty fee for my current apartment seems like a gigantic waste of money, I decide to prioritize my mental health and I bring the move forward.
The one logistical thing I still have to figure out is my cat and the quarantine situation. His rabies test is stuck in the backlog somewhere in Texas or wherever. Worst-case scenario, he’ll have to stay at the quarantine facility for a while, which gives me cause for concern, but is something I figure I’ll work through.
Later that day
Timmy:
Wassup. You moving on the first?
Me:
Well, I did a thing today.
I was meant to be moving on the 23rd of this month.
But now I’m moving 2 weeks from today!
Timmy:
Yay. That’s awesome. You’ll be surfing in no time!!
Me:
Hopefully!
He moves the conversation from the app to text pretty quickly, and I’m fine with that. Every time he texts me, I get butterflies.
He chats about his day, what he’s doing. Running a lot of errands and working a lot on renovating condos around the coast. His work sounds interesting, and he gets all excited about it, which is cute.
Job? Check.
Excitement for life? Check.
Cute? Check.
Surfs? Check.
Funny? Check.
He’s checking all the boxes.
He insists on a phone call, and by this point, I’m ready for it.
“Hey Margaux! I’m so glad you wanted to speak on the phone with me!”
His voice is deep, resonant. He sounds hot as hell. And the way he says my name… my god, I’m instantly wet.
And he has this quirky speech pattern that’s ultra-American combined with ultra-surfer boy, ultra-outgoing.
His laugh makes me smile.
He has a quirky sense of humor, just like me.
He seems adventurous and carefree and fun.