Waverly book #3: first chapter
Did that really just happen?
I sat there for a minute, then took a deep breath and stood up. I set the phone on my desk and made my way toward the kitchen to get a glass of water, my throat suddenly dry. I couldn’t really feel my feet on the hardwood floors, but I could feel a small buzzing in my ears. I blinked a few times and shook my head as I walked.
Did I really just say yes?
I poured a huge glass of water and plonked myself on the couch in the living room. I slowly gazed around the apartment I’d lived in―loved living in―since graduating from college more than a decade ago. I’d never thought about it before, but at that moment I realized I’d spent my entire adult life here. The place had changed quite a bit from the early days, when I’d roomed with my college friend Whitney, to my “big decision” to keep the two-bedroom place on my own when she got married a few years later. Over time I’d gradually ditched the IKEA furniture for a more grown-up décor, and recently I’d even bought a few plants—although they’d quickly fallen victim to my black thumb. There was just something about this classic Victorian apartment nestled in the middle of quaint Pacific Heights, something more than rent control, that had made me think I’d stay here forever.
It wasn’t just the apartment or the neighborhood that had cast a spell on me; it was…San Francisco itself. It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what it is about the city’s magnetism that captivated me, but San Francisco has a way of making you think there’s no other place worth living. After ten years I was still entranced by it, and I had never even considered leaving.
But apparently I was about to do just that.
I set my glass on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch. I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them and stared at the ceiling.
Did I really just agree to move across the country?
I bit my lip.
What have I done?