In Between the Earth and Sky

An unconventional, slow-burn romance people are calling, "magical, soul-stirring, poetic." Remington was paid to tell people how to achieve the best from their lives and careers. He liked telling people what to do. It gave him the perfect excuse to not work on his own faults. Lydia—raised on star maps and Hendrix—was born an explorer. She was just biding her time at her current job before she was off to discover and build something new. Not one to let society tell her who she was, she wasn’t about to let a professional influencer tell her she had to change to be happy. But Remington wasn’t about to let her get away with his heart. Contains adult language **Foreword written by Zack Salaun

Chapter 1
Hello, Earth


Lydia

“Answering the phone is against my personal belief system. Stop trying to control me.”
BEEEEP!
It was the beep that cut through the ringing pipes of the shower and Lydia's best rendition of Sir Elton's “Sad Songs (Say So Much).”
She scrambled from the cold water of her shower to lunge at the nearby phone. While she thought her answering machine message was hilarious, her mom didn't. And there was only one person in the world who would be calling her so early in the morning.
Her fingers stretched out, her body a perfect display of athletic ability—at least, that's how she pictured it.
It was really a waste of time.
She knew it.
The neighbor downstairs knew it.
Her eyes darted to the open windows.
Hell, the neighbor across the street knew it.
Lydia's body finished its perilous dive through the air and landed with a squeaky slide, boobs down, on the cold tiled floor.
She pressed the button on the phone. “Hello? Mom?” She called into the dead air of a phone call already over.
“Shit,” she hissed, tossing the phone away from the water that had begun to pool around her. She rolled upright and squinted at the open shower door.
Maybe it was time to think about getting corrective eye surgery.
Right, because she had all the money in the world for that.
You know what else she didn't have? Time to flood her downstairs neighbor's apartment.
She scrambled to her feet, wet body parts jiggling unattractively all over the place. One hand reached into the shower to shut off the water while her other one pulled towels off the shelf and onto the floor.
“This is perfect. Absolutely wonderful,” she grumbled as the thin towels became saturated in seconds.
“4B!” 3B shouted through the floor at her.
“I'm sorry!” Lydia called frantically. “I'm cleaning it up right now!” She gathered the soaked towels in her arms and dropped them inside the shower. She started for the bedroom to get a blanket, snatching her glasses off the vanity and shoved them on her face.
“How?” she asked, incredulous, as she finally saw the mess clearly. “You'd think a walrus fell out of my shower.”
A closed fist pounded on her door and she knew 3B wasn't satisfied with yelling through the ceiling anymore.
Lovely.
“In a minute!” she yelled, throwing a mustard yellow colored blanket down on the wet floor. Thank God her mom was afraid Southern California would have a sudden cold snap and Lydia would be left ill-prepared. She had boxes of ugly blankets everywhere. She had more blankets than she did towels. Or dishes.
But don't tell her mom.
Otherwise she'd have a shipment of dishes show up tomorrow.
“4B!”
“Geez. I've pissed him off no less than ten times since I moved in. You'd think he'd remember my name.”
Lydia yanked her bedspread off the bed and wrapped it around her naked body. She struggled to the door and opened it right before Dweedle hit it with his fist again.
Okay, to be fair, his name wasn't really Dweedle. It was Dwight Smith. A super boring name considering how annoying a neighbor he was. He looked and acted so much more like a Dweedle.
“It's raining in my kitchen,” he said by way of greeting, his wide-set eyes narrowed in disappointment.
“I know, Dwight, and I'm so sorry,” Lydia apologized again. “I... fell out of the shower. I'm cleaning it up as fast as I can.”
His thin lips pressed together as he considered her story. It wasn't the first time she'd fallen out of the shower. It was the fourth. The first two were when she had gotten carried away listening to Dead Kennedys. Which was the entire reason she’d switched over to Sir Elton for her morning routine. He had a far less... aggressive sound.
“Some of us have real jobs, you know,” he grumbled. “I have to be to work in an hour.”
And here was the real issue. Dweedle saw her as too young and too incompetent to be his neighbor. He liked his neighbors to be contributing members of society. Their building didn't have any kind of tenants’ association, but she was betting that if they did, Dweedle would be the president. And not on merit, but simply because he would just wear everyone in the building down until they elected him.
Like every other politician in the world.
“I have a real job, too,” she reminded sweetly. “It's how I pay my rent in this luxurious condo—” She swept one arm out dramatically as if her bed spread were a glamorous gown instead of being a third-generation hand-me-down with frayed ends to prove it. “—with the super friendly tenants.”
Dwight's small mouth tightened further as his already narrow eyes squinted.
He didn't like it when she was sarcastic.
Lydia took a deep breath and let go of her irritation. It wasn't worth it to have an issue with her neighbors. She was a nicer person than that.
“Listen, leave your door unlocked. I'll come down and clean up your kitchen before I leave for work.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “Do you have time for that?”
No.
She glanced at the clock on the wall to her right.
Really no.
Sunrise was in forty-five minutes. The drive was twenty and the walk to the ridge was another fifteen. She was going to be late.
“Yes.” She withheld the sigh wanting to accompany her answer.
It would be fine. Hopefully.
If she had done her calculations correctly, tomorrow was the day anyway. But she liked to play it safe so she always took readings the day before and after.
In order to be on time tomorrow, she would just have to sleep out there tonight.
“And you'll lock up after you leave?” he asked warily.
Two things about this surprised her. One, he actually trusted her not to rob him. Maybe he didn't hate her as much as she had thought. Two, he really needed to get to work on time.
But then again, this would be the third time she’d had to clean water out of his kitchen. He was probably tired of supervising a task she had mastered when she was a child. Cleaning a kitchen floor was second nature for her.
Ugh, she needed to call her mom back before the FBI showed up at the door.
“Absolutely. I'll text you when I leave.”
Uncertainty flitted across his face before he gave her a single nod. “Fine. I'm leaving in five minutes. I'll leave the door open for you.”
Lydia waited to roll her eyes until the door was closed. Why did she even bother showering this morning?
“Shower at night! Did college teach you nothing!” she hissed under breath as she gathered her bedspread up to walk to her closet.
She stopped short when she spotted Mrs. Anastassakis, the Greek grandma who occupied the apartment directly opposite to hers across the forecourt.
Forecourt, ha!
It was eight feet.
“Good morning, Lydia!” the older woman called through the open window.
“Good morning, Mrs. Anastassakis.”
“Come over before you leave today. I have keftedes for you.” She nodded as if Lydia had already agreed with her demand, and walked away from the window.
“Of course you do.” Lydia did sigh that time.
She should have known she wasn't going to make it to work on time. She should have just planned on camping to begin with.
Oh well. Lesson learned.
It's not like she was going to be fired.
Not yet anyway.
She started to run a hand through her hair but stopped when she realized it was a wet tangled mess.
Whatever.
She gave up on that and headed into her closet.
Her closet was the nicest part of her place. It was a bedroom. Or, it was listed as one. But only a child's bed would fit inside. Which was why her mattress resided on the floor of the main living space. No box-spring.
Someday, when her back finally gave out, she would regret the corners she'd cut to follow her dreams. Or, she'd have discovered a way to regrow back cartilage and she'd be healthy and famous. Her nose scrunched up at the thought.
Not famous.
But healthy she would take.
Okay, so she needed to go down to Dweedle's and clean up whatever mess she'd made. She needed to get dressed for work, pack for an overnight in the park, pick up Greek meatballs.
Actually, this would work out well. She'd have Mrs. Anastassakis' meatballs for dinner and probably breakfast tomorrow. Half her packing was done.