Waveborn | The Oceane Series

One

Ocean boulevard, which ran parallel to the ten miles of ocean-side property along the length of the city, was home to many resorts, restaurants, and the infamous SkyWheel, offering tourists and residents alike a stunning view of the sea from high in the air. But Ocean Boulevard wasn't just home to these sites; it was also home to a three-bedroom beach house hidden between two large skyscrapers. There, at 305 South Ocean Boulevard, sat my grandmother's old cottage, with its blue-green shutters sitting stark against the tan siding of the exterior. This was my home now, complete with half an acre of lush grass and a wooden gate that led straight to the powdery white sand overlooking the sea.

When I entered the beachside cottage, I felt the real mahogany flooring underneath my feet and the wood cabinetry in the kitchen across the room. I had immediately fallen in love with the open floor concept when I visited it years ago when my grandmother was still alive. Smiling to myself, I walked back out to grab my luggage; the moving truck would be here soon, and I was lucky to have convinced them to help move all my furniture and appliances—there was no way I'd be able to do that all on my own. Good thing I didn't have a lot of belongings. I guess it should only take me an afternoon to set up my entire house. Afterward, I planned to organize my guest bedrooms, filling them with comfy blue and white comforters and tons and tons of throw pillows. Not that I planned to have anyone over to sleep in the guest rooms, but who knew? I could always rent out a room to someone in the future.

Once I hung up my clothes in the closet, I heard the loud sound of a horn. Pulling the last shirt onto the hanger, I set it on the hook in my closet and turned around to walk back outside into the sea breeze in order to greet the movers who would help me this afternoon.

As I was locking the front door in its open position, my phone rang, letting out a soft tune before I made a grab for it out of my back pocket. I had texted my mother's best friend, Claire, earlier to let her know I had arrived safely. She had responded immediately, pleased that I had kept my word and gotten in touch with her. She offered to send her son, John, to help unload my furniture if it got to be too much for me. She had moved to South Carolina years ago and I had spent summers up here whenever I could. John had always been a brother to me and didn't mind showing me all the different things we could do on the coast. I guess that was one reason I had fallen in love with the ocean—the peace I felt and the desire to protect it all.

"Hey, Claire," I said, answering the call.

"Hello, dear. I was just wondering how you are getting on. Has the truck arrived yet? Do you need John to come help?" she drawled on the other side of the line, her southern accent hanging on every word.

"Oh, what great timing! The truck has just arrived. If you're sure John won't mind coming over, I can give you the address," I commented, smiling to one of the movers as he waved, walking around to the back of the truck to unlock the door. "I'm sure the guys would love an extra pair of hands."

"One second," she said in her cheery voice before she yelled at her son to get his big butt off the couch and help me move. I couldn't hear John's response from the background, but before I could ask what he said, Claire spoke again. "He'll be right over, dear."

"Alright," I said. "If he's sure, tell him I appreciate the help. He will be able to park in the driveway; there's plenty of room."

"He'll see you soon." She giggled at something I couldn't hear before hanging up.

"Good news, boys," I called to the movers, shaking my head before stuffing my phone back into my pocket. "Not only do you have me, but my friend is on his way to help too. We don't have to wait though; we can start now if y'all want." One of them nodded as he came behind me with a box. "Whatever the box is labeled, please set it in the designated room."