California Dreaming

Chapter Three

   I had never been one of those girls, who was constantly worrying about the way they looked, who obsessed until every tiny bit of their appearance was perfect. It was impractical, and time consuming, but here, everything was different. Beverly Hills wasn’t like the small English town I had moved from, where no-one cared if you left the house in sweatpants and a t-shirt; here, people would pay for perfection. 

   I picked out a pair of jeans and stared at them for a while, before replacing them in my wardrobe, then I pulled out some shorts, holding them up against myself in the mirror before putting them back too. I finally chose a baggy t-shirt dress, which hung off my slim frame and was short enough, I thought, to be accepted by Beverly Hills ideals. I slipped on my favourite pair of beat-up cowboy boots before touching up my makeup and leaving the large, empty house. I had forgotten to ask Gabriel for his address. 

   I tried to think back, delving into the deepest recesses of my childhood memories. I could picture the house, the garden, but the street name or crossroads was a blank to me. Then, as if the universe had orchestrated it, I thought I saw Henry running across the street, a flash of blonde hair. I jogged down my front path and shouted his name, but he didn’t turn around, I tried again, and this time he seemed to notice, looking back and beginning to grin. He cross the road and brushed his hands through his damp hair. 

   “Hey,” he smiled, slightly out of breath, his chest heaving up and down. 

   “Hi,” I grinned back, “I’m meant to be going over to Gabriel’s place but I have no idea where that is,” I grimaced, “do you have an address or something I could-” 

   “-Well, I live next door, if you don’t mind jogging with me I’ll show you the way.” 

   “Okay,” I nodded, “can I get changed though?” 

   “Sure, I’ll be waiting just here,” Hen winked, sitting down on my front lawn as I ran inside and pulled on my old pair of tracksuit bottoms and a loose, white vest top. I pulled my hair into a bun before jogging back out into the afternoon sun, shivering as the breeze tickled the back of my neck. 

   “Ready?” I asked, hauling Henry up from the ground. 

   “You betcha’,” he grinned, leading me across the road and starting to jog along the sidewalk, something which I had missed doing in England, running along the beach on summer evenings. “So, I bet Gabriel’s happy to have you back in the country,” Henry said, as if he knew something I did not. 

   “Yeah, I guess,” I shrugged, nodding. “We used to be so close, I just hope we can go back to that,” I admitted, “I’ve missed having someone with whom I can spend every hour of every day with, without getting bored or irritated.” 

   “Well, you’ll find lots of people like that here,” Henry assured me, “me, and Leila, and of course you’ll become close again with Gabriel, I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but he’s real easy to get along with.” 

   “I’ve noticed,” I giggled, continuing to jog, keeping my breathing regular, “of course I have, he’s been wonderful to me.” 

   “So, why did you leave England?” Henry frowned, and I couldn’t help but gasp a little, racking my brain for an answer, one other than the truth, that I was being brutally stalked by my ex boyfriend. 

   “Umm, we missed the sun,” I exclaimed, gesturing to the clear blue sky and blazing sunshine, “and my dad got the opportunity to transfer here, to take his old job and, yeah, here we are,” I smiled, trying to believe my own lie in order to make it more convincing. 

   “Yup,” he glanced down at me curiously, “here you are.” 

   A group of young housewives jogged past us, all with shrill voices, laughing wildly, throwing their carefully curled hair over their shoulders. I watched Henry’s eyes follow their tightly formed bodies as they ran beyond us, their tanned skin shimmering in the afternoon sunshine. He forced himself to look away, and I wondered then if he was one of those guys, fixated on the stereotype of how a Californian girl should look.