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    Harbor
    Harbor
    Harbor
    Ebook100 pages1 hour

    Harbor

    By Hollis Shiloh

    3.5/5

    ()

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    About this ebook

    After his breakup, Tim goes to a campground in a beach town to work on his latest screenplay. Writer's block seems to disappear magically, now that he's single again. It's a relief to be writing.

     

    While there, he meets John Harbor, a handsome fellow writer on his own mission to get some work done. John is nothing like a cynical as Tim. Or as confident. But he's very appealing...

     

    Rather than swap stories about writing, Tim and John decide to have a fling. Nothing serious, just a pleasant break from work when they can both spare the time.

     

    John is skittish, busy, and wary of relationships. But Tim, who thought he was burned out on relationships altogether, is falling hard. He got over his ex easily enough—at least that he'll admit—but how is he ever going to get over John?

     

     

    ~25,000 words – low heat

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSpare Words Press
    Release dateOct 21, 2020
    ISBN9781393850632
    Harbor

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      Book preview

      Harbor - Hollis Shiloh

      Chapter One

      Mark looked at me with disappointment for what felt like the last time.  I've had it up to here, Tim.  If you can't decide what you want, maybe you don't want this at all.  He spread his hands, indicating the house, our life together, everything we'd been to each other.

      I had guessed this day was coming.  Part of me had both dreaded it and longed for it.  I'd really tried, but I got tired.  Tired of letting him down.  Tired of wondering if we really matched.  Just damned tired.

      Someday, I'd always thought, I'd get my shit together.  Maybe he wasn't keeping a secret logbook of all my faults and failures, all the times and ways I messed up.  

      I wanted it to be true, but it wasn't.  He'd been keeping track—or at least, he'd reached his limit.

      Now his luxury name-brand gym bag was packed.  I had no doubt he'd find someone to stay with—he always had lots of friends, unlike me—or else just stay at a hotel till we could decide what to do about the house.

      Or more likely, till he could decide.  It would probably end up being him, if I was honest.  I'd go along, the way I always did, because it was easier, and he knew things about life that I never would—such as who the right designers were, or a million other little rules I didn't understand.  Problem was, I felt fake living that life—and gradually, I'd been giving away more and more decisions to him, the expert.

      Now I watched him go, the man I'd thought I would spend the rest of my life with.  And I didn't try to stop him.

      The house was still decked out with Christmas tat—the tinsel garlands around the tops of the walls, the tree, and the expensive pine thing on the mantelpiece with the scented candles there with it.  I walked over to it, snuffed the candles out.  Then I tore down the pine thing.  Mark knew what it was called; he'd also picked it out while I tagged along, trying not to sneeze at the Christmassy smells in the decor store.

      There had been too many scented candles.  There had been gigantic clocks that ticked loudly in an aisle near the boughs or whatever they were.  The clocks were bugging me, the candles making me sneeze, and I just wanted to grab something and go.  But Mark wanted to get the right one, so I'd hung around in the aisles feeling idiotic, looking at the shelves, fiddling with the ornaments, including breaking one, and then finally having him call to me sharply that we were going, did I have anything to add to the order?

      I was too ashamed to add the broken ornament to the basket—it had slipped from my clumsy fingers while I was looking—and had instead hidden it. 

      When had I become such a cringing coward?  I'd normally pay for something if I broke it, no second thoughts.  Instead, I was hiding something so he wouldn't give me a disgusted or annoyed look.  What did that say about me?

      I'd followed him, no doubt looking like the scruffy project he was working on, a homeless person taken under his wings, perhaps.

      I'd felt the eyes on me, like an echo of the question, What are they doing together?  

      Not that most people had probably thought we were a couple; we didn't tend to be lovey-dovey in public.  It was more like he called the shots and I tagged along.

      Not anymore, buddy.  I got to keep the house—at least until he told me to move out so we could sell it and get back the money we'd invested.

      He'd probably want more than half, because he'd done all the decorating.  Well, I wasn't sure I wanted to fight him for it.  We weren't married, didn't have a prenup or agreement of any kind about the house, and really, what was there for me here?

      I hesitated an instant, then went around and began tugging down the tinsel garlands.  It was too cheerful for today—too cheerful for any day.  Despite myself, I felt a manic grin on my face.  I'd helped put them up, believe it or not.  One thing I was good at, apparently, was standing on the ladder, though even that I had to be instructed in patiently and told to move just a bit to the left or right now.  

      Now I was tearing down my handiwork.  But it felt like more.  It felt like I was finally going to be free.

      #

      I didn't have long at the house on my own—we needed to strike while the real estate market was hot to unload this thing—but it was long enough to dislike living there.  Turns out it wasn't just Mark that made the too-big house feel stifling.  It was me, too. 

      Anyway, I was almost glad when the decorators and stagers had to get to work—with lots of help and micromanaging from Mark, of course.  I'd been moving my stuff into storage, so when they trooped in, armed to the teeth with supplies of all sorts, all I had to do was grab some luggage and take off. 

      I didn't even have to lean in for a hard-lipped kiss from Mark.  Surprising how I didn't miss his gestures of affection at all.  I was just relieved.  And what did that say about me?  That I was glad to slink off?  Not keep trying, not even miss him, just feel relieved?

      It felt like I'd failed.  Maybe if we'd gotten married, we'd have something tangible to point to and say, Look, this was real, once.

      Had it ever been?

      I didn't know.  I didn't want to think about it, I wanted to plan ahead.  But Mark had been making the plans for so long, and I didn't even know what I wanted to do.

      The only thing I could think of was visiting the beach.  I wanted to stay at the beach.  It was stupid, but then again, I didn't have to care if it was stupid, now that Mark and I weren't together.  I could do whatever dumb stuff I wanted to.  I had enough money right now, and since I could work remotely, I could go somewhere for a few weeks, even longer if I could stretch my cash a bit.

      I could be a beach bum and do my work in the off-hours.  It was the only thing I could feel even a spark of enthusiasm for.

      I wanted to go to the beach.

      Mark would say that was childish.  Maybe that's the reason.  Maybe I wanted to be childish.

      Chapter Two

      Since it was the off-season, I got a good deal on a tiny cabin at a place that rented to RVers, families, and glampers.  They did short-term rentals and longer term rentals, and it was a few miles to the beach, but not too far to drive or bike there every day and enjoy the wind and water. 

      They had a pool and some amenities, but it wasn't a super fancy place, and the pool was closed for winter.  I didn't mind any of that.  It let me be near the beach.  I booked two months at a rate I could stand to pay, and hoped it would make me more productive, being somewhere quiet and

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