Page 3 of The Single Dad Grump Next Door (Stuck Together In Mermaid Shores)

Chapter Three: Alina

[ Ten Years Ago ]

I’m running as fast as I can, the soles of my patent leather shoes smacking against the linoleum-tiled steps of the building’s stairwell.

I wasn’t supposed to be running late today. It’s my roommate’s fault, honestly. If Becca hadn’t been sobbing over the state of the frayed horsehair of her viola’s bow, I would’ve been able to leave at my usual time without pausing to comfort her.

Never mind that it’s her own fault that her equipment is in such disarray. She never stores her bow properly. My father would take one look at her side of the room and claim that she has a frightful disregard for the integrity of the instrument she endeavors to master. Or something like that.

I really can’t afford to be thinking about my father right now, though. If he saw the way I was running with my violin case, he’d be utterly horrified.

With a desperate glance at my watch, I pick up the pace.

I have to beat him.

I know for a fact that he has his private lesson with Madam Hemloc every Tuesday morning from nine to nine fifty. I know this because that was supposed to be my spot, but I got stuck with the eleven o’clock slot with the renowned violin tutor. Whatever. At least it means that I can sneak in an extra hour or two of practice in the morning.

Unfortunately, that awful boy has learned that I like to practice in one of the northeast-facing rooms in this building. He’s also managed to figure out that my eight o’clock Music Theory class gives me just barely enough time to run to my dorm, grab my violin, and make it to the rehearsal rooms before ten.

And, ever since he’s discovered that, he’s made it his life’s mission to teleport directly from his lesson with Madam Hemloc to my beloved practice space. Last week, he claimed it for himself with a wicked smile. I swear he exists just to spite me. I knew that Juilliard would be competitive, but I didn’t realize that fate would offer me an arch nemesis who’s determined to thwart me however and whenever he possibly can.

This week, though, he won’t be so lucky.

I dash up the last flight of stairs and throw open the metal door. It groans loudly as I hug my violin case to my chest to avoid slamming it against the threshold as I whirl around the corner and fling myself down the hall.

Almost there…

That’s when I hear it. A quiet snicker, harmonized with the tell-tale footsteps of my least favorite person alive. After just two years of dealing with him, I’ve memorized enough about his stature and general presence to be able to sense when he’s in the vicinity. It’s a survival tactic.

I glance up to find him coming down the opposite end of the hall, his violin case clutched tightly in his hand. We lock eyes.

He starts running.

I let out a frustrated snarl, throwing every ounce of strength I have into my legs, urging them to go faster. He’s taller, though. Faster. He catches up to me too easily.

And yet, with a shout of victory, I make it to the practice room door with a half-second lead, slamming my hand down on the handle and blocking the doorway with my body. I nearly collide with the door itself thanks to the sudden halt, and then he nearly collides directly into me.

Instantly, he stumbles away from me. Like standing too close to me might expose him to some kind of poison.

For a moment, all we do is glare at each other as we both try to catch our breath.

“I was here first,” I pant.

“Debatable. I was already in the hallway when you came out of the stairwell.”

“That means nothing, Gabriel,” I snarl.

“It means that I was here first, actually, Ali,” he argues back.

I fight the urge to hiss at him like a feral cat. He irks me like nobody ever has before. Gabe Sterling, with his tall and graceful physique. Golden skin and dark curls. Not to mention the twinkly green eyes that half the girls at this school audibly fawn over whenever he walks by. It’s not fair that he’s handsome.

If I were in charge of such things, I would ensure that each human only gets one major advantage in life. You can’t be talented and pretty. You can only choose one.

I bet Gabe would choose prettiness. For all his obvious talent with the violin, he preens like a peacock whenever someone is caught sighing over his good looks.

I really can’t stand him.

Keeping my hand firmly locked around the doorknob and my back pressed against the door, I square off against Gabe with all the ferocity of a soldier ready to step onto a battlefield. He mirrors my stance, towering over me.

“I was here first,” I repeat. “This room is mine for the next hour. You’re more than welcome to wait your turn, Gabriel.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “I have Composition in thirty minutes.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Let me use the room, Ali.”

“There are plenty of other available rooms.”

Technically, I’m probably telling the truth. Juilliard’s campus is full of private alcoves designed to function as private practice rooms for students who need solitude and decent acoustics. It’s the only way to ensure that a school for musicians isn’t a constant cacophony of discordant noise.

The thing is, though, this building has the best rooms with the best sound quality. And the best views of Central Park. Green spaces help me think more clearly. They calm me. Having grown up in the suburbs of Seattle, I don’t feel right unless I’m close to the trees.

Which is exactly why this specific practice room is unofficially mine at this specific time on this specific day. The rest of the string players in our year respect that. Why can’t Gabe?

“I’m not moving,” I tell him.

He rolls his eyes. “Come on. Just give me, like, fifteen minutes. Like I said, I have class soon anyway.”

“No.”

Why should I compromise for his needs when I know for certain that he’d never do the same for me?

Gabe glares at me. “You’re insufferable.”

“Feel free to go away, then. Nobody’s forcing you to ‘suffer’ my presence.”

Instead of leaving, however, Gabe takes a step toward me. For a brief, horribly embarrassing moment, I’m captured by the verdant hue of his gaze.

“Move out of the way,” he commands.

I bristle. “What are you going to do if I don’t? Forcibly remove me from this doorway? Go on, Gabriel. Give me a reason to make a formal complaint against you. Lay one finger on me and you’ll be expelled by the end of the day.”

His eyes narrow. “Oh, yeah? Nice threat, Sokolov, but it’s not as scary when I know that you’d have to call your famous daddy in order to make that happen.”

“You underestimate my father’s willingness to destroy my competition.”

I fear I’m telling the truth, as embarrassing as it is. My parents have done, and will continue to do, just about anything to ensure that I attain remarkable levels of success.

Gabe is unbothered by my admittedly pathetic threat, though. He simply takes a step back and holds up one hand in surrender, the other hand still clenched around the handle of his violin case.

“Hey, at least you truly consider me your competition, Ali. I’m ever so grateful and honored.”

Then, with a mocking bow, Gabe curses under his breath and stalks away.

Even after he’s gone, I remain frozen to the spot. It takes me a minute to relax. Every altercation with him is like this. Two years of battling it out, and we refuse to find a reason to get along. None of the other violinists butt heads like we do.

But, then again, none of the other violinists are as good as we are.

With a huff of satisfaction, I finally open the door to the practice room and march inside the small, sunny space. Still, I can’t shake the feeling of uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. I may have won this battle, but there’s no way to know if I’m going to win the war. With Gabe Sterling as my opponent, nothing is certain.

***

Just like in the memory that overtook me the moment I locked eyes with Gabe Sterling for the first time in eight years, I am running as fast as I can.

I barge through the back door of Karina and Andy’s side of the duplex. The happy couple is totally oblivious to the potential murder scene that was brewing outside, sprawled out on the carpet of the living room and playfully bickering about how to put a kite together.

The second I blast right past them with my head down, they fall quiet. I ignore them, rushing up the stairs to the room I claimed for myself just yesterday afternoon.

Nothing about this makes sense. This is a tiny seaside town. There’s only so much room here during tourist season. What are the chances that my least favorite human being and I would cross paths here, of all places? Why now , after all these years?

It doesn’t matter. I need to get out of here. I’m not going to spend the entire summer cozied up in the same house as Gabe Sterling. If he ever finds out why I’m here instead of Chicago…

No. It can’t happen.

In the bedroom, my suitcase is still mostly packed. I haven’t yet had the chance unpack anything, too eager to spend some time out in the sun with a copy of the latest biography about Yehudi Menuhin, one of the greatest violinists of all time.

Instead, I was confronted by a demon.

My skin is crawling with the thought of how close he is. How easy it would be for him to deduce that I’m not going to be onstage tonight performing during the first week of the CSO’s summer season.

I’m sure he’d be thrilled to learn the truth. It’d probably feel like some long-awaited revenge finally coming to fruition.

I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

I toss the few things I’ve removed from my suitcase back inside and slam the lid shut.

“What’s going on?”

I whirl around to find Karina hovering in the doorway, eyebrows raised as I yank the zipper of my luggage closed.

“I’m going back to Chicago.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

I exhale slowly, trying not to cringe at the way my hand throbs from the way I just jerked my bag closed.

Rising to my feet, I know that the only way to get through this next part is to be honest.

“I just ran into your neighbor for the summer.”

Karina cocks her head to the side. “Oh? I think I saw them arrive yesterday, but I didn’t get a chance to say hello. Why do you have that look on your face? Are they weird? Were they rude to you?”

For some reason, that makes me snort. “It’s not—Karina, your neighbor is Gabriel Sterling.”

She furrows her brow. “Who?”

“Gabe Sterling? Doesn’t that ring a bell at all?”

Realization dawns on her. Her expression shifts from confusion to shock. She would have heard all about him for the entire four years I spent at Juilliard. In fact, she became so invested in the rivalry from afar that, for all intents and purposes, Gabe was her enemy, too.

“No way,” she breathes. “Wait, seriously? I thought he was living in California nowadays.”

I gape at her. “What? Why would you think that?”

“Uh, because he got a Grammy nomination last year? He composed the score for The Bone Whisperer. ”

“The bone what?”

“Gosh, Alina, you really do live under a rock. It was that insane action movie that came out last summer? The budget was, like, over a hundred million dollars or something like that. It won a couple of Oscars and got that Grammy nom…”

She trails off when she sees the look on my face.

“No,” I murmur, shaking my head slowly. “Gabe Sterling is in the Boston Symphony Orchestra.”

His second choice, after the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.

But the CSO only had one spot… and I was the one who got it.

And even though the BSO is still one of the best in the country, it’s not the one that he wanted the most. I assumed that he planned on hating me for the rest of his life even while he maintained a long, successful career with the orchestra in Boston.

Karina frowns. “I don’t think he is, Alina. Not anymore. I mean, did you really not know? About the Grammy?”

“That’s just not possible. He doesn’t write music. He plays it.”

Then again, I knew Gabe took quite a few composition courses during our years at Juilliard.

Karina snorts. “Well, apparently, he does. And also, he’s apparently our neighbor for the next couple months. Is that really so bad?”

I clench my hands into fists, then flinch. Karina tracks the movement, concern coloring her gaze.

“It’s worse than bad ,” I growl. “Gabe and I were vicious rivals, Karina. I beat him out for one of the most coveted positions among classical musicians in the country. And, before that, we spent four years openly despising each other. If he finds out that I—if he realizes what happened—why I’m not in Chicago… listen, I just need to go back. I don’t want to deal with this.”

“You can’t be serious.”

I shrug, hauling my suitcase upright. “I don’t want to be anywhere near that man.”

She stands firmly in the doorway, blocking my exit. “It’s been years, Alina. You’re both in your thirties now. You’ve grown up. Surely, you can let an old school rivalry go?”

Unsurprisingly, Karina doesn’t understand. She didn’t grow up in the world of classical musicians. She doesn’t know how cruel and cutthroat it can be. How demanding and unforgiving. She doesn’t know that rivalries aren’t just schoolyard conflicts. They’re life or death, because usually your entire future rests in the balance when you’re competing.

If you don’t win, you could lose a lifetime of hard work in half a second.

The worst part is that I know I was downright brutal when it came to my rivalry with Gabe, especially toward the end. When it came time to do our auditions for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, things were so tense between us that even our teachers tried to keep us separated.

When I was offered the position, I didn’t even gloat. I simply packed up my dorm, attended graduation, and moved to Chicago without a backward glance. I told myself I didn’t care what happened to Gabe. It wasn’t my problem if my success meant that his dreams had just been crushed.

But clearly, he’s not a failure. He’s composing scores for wildly successful action movies.

And he has a daughter.

A daughter .

Which means he most definitely also has a wife roaming around somewhere on this vacation property.

Apparently, his life turned out just fine.

Mine, on the other hand…

“I can’t do this,” I repeat. “I don’t want to deal with this.”

“Are you really going to let some random guy chase you away from paradise? You deserve to enjoy the summer just as much as he does. And you literally just got here, Alina. I was looking forward to spending time with you.”

I deflate a little. She’s right. I’m being selfish. I came out here to rest my aching limbs, but I also made the journey so that I could reconnect with my cousin, my closest friend, for the first time in ages.

I swallow hard, staring down at my suitcase for a long moment.

Then, with a resigned shrug, I say, “I guess I could just… avoid him. For eight weeks. Or whatever.”

Karina grins, coming forward to wrap an arm around my shoulders and gently tugging me away from my luggage.

“That’s the spirit, Alina.”