Chapter 1: Jasper & Sunny

Sunny Valdez grew up having a crush on Jasper Cain Sheridan, lead singer of The Boys Around Town the hottest boy band of the 90s. His falsetto voice and dance moves made her and millions of other girls swoon. The music got her through dark times after the death of her parents and the beautiful lyrics brought about her love of writing. It's now almost 25 years later and she and the other fans have grown up but they've never forgotten, the Boys and the music. One day a chance meeting thrusts Sunny and Jasper together in a romantic tale that all boy band fans dream of.

Chapter One: The Stranger

Her touch would forever remain

in a memory I could never forget

her soft hands

beautifully painted nails

the fragility of her being

the strength of her soul

She would always be-

The typewriter came to a crash on the ground beneath Sunnyʼs feet. Mid poem, mid thought, mid tears, out of her reach it went, flipping once through the air and landing with the most unsatisfying crash. There it lay defeated and broken, her words flying about in the wind. A skateboard zoomed by and in seconds it was in front of her, its occupant, mouth agape, hands in the air shook his head, the apologies spilling out like last night’s dinner.

“I can’t believe I did that, I am so sorry,” he repeated having already said it twice already. He bent over to pick up the shattered pieces, but with nowhere to place them his hands were raised, questioning. Sunny rose despite her sunken heart. She had decided on a week long writing retreat to get these lingering grieving thoughts of her grandmother out of her. They’d been consuming her, eating her alive like a flesh-eating virus.

This small town in Northern Massachusetts was calm and peaceful in early winter and it seemed the most desolate place to be alone with her thoughts away from her city’s chaos. That was of course until the grown man on a skateboard ruined her latest poem and her most prized possession, a vintage Remington Portable, she’d found at a repair shop in Gramercy back in New York City. Sunny Valdez wasn’t a rude person, but these apologies weren’t landing, and meant nothing in that moment. She swallowed the lump rising in her throat and leaned over to pick up what she could and took from him what he gave her and placed every piece carefully in her large shoulder bag.

“It was clearly an accident,” she said, barely glancing at him, his appearance catching her a little off guard. She was really annoyed but was immediately distracted by him. He was familiar somehow, with his brooding eyes and wisps of too long dark hair falling over his eyes. She wasn’t sure where she would know him from and through her grief she didn’t care, well not too much. He shrugged as if not knowing what else to say except offer more apologies.

“I live up the road and no one is usually out at this time. It's the only time of day I ride this thing since I'd pretty much look ridiculous if people were around,” he offered a nervous chuckle, revealing beaming teeth and perfect velvety lips.

Could he be...?

A far away memory tugged at Sunnyʼs mind willing her to remember. But her thoughts were back to the broken bundle in her bag, and she began retreating toward her hotel, the apologetic stranger in tow.

She had chosen that spot in the park because of how the lightly fallen snow glistened on the ground and the branches of the bare trees grasped onto the icicles that formed on them, and it was just after sunrise, the best time to write when the world was quiet. Sheʼd worn a hoodie and jeans and her tight leather gloves so she could type. Her hot coffee was long gone but the poetry had been flowing and so for an hour she hadn’t moved, until the tall familiar stranger invaded her space and thoughts and disrupting her flow of grief and creativity.

He followed beside her.

“Can I help you with that?” As they walked a few of the papers she had gathered had flown away again, landing in the snow. He leaned over and retrieved them. She was grateful at least that the words she’d written were safe. Sometimes when she wrote, it was like a natural stream of consciousness, and she was always amazed afterward rereading her thoughts. Sunny wasn’t famously published but did have a nice social media presence and few mildly successful self-published poetry and short story collections. She was a paralegal at a law firm in Manhattan and even though the attorneys had all but offered to send her and pay for law school, she declined several times, because she knew, always that her fate lay in the words her mind and her muse told her fingers to write.

Sunny and the stranger strolled slowly through the quiet and brisk street toward her hotel, a sweet bed and breakfast, The Cottage Inn. There was a faint aroma in the air of sweet tobacco and Sunny realized it was coming from him.

“So, “she said. “You’re too old for skateboarding and yet I gather, much too young to smoke cigars.” He jerked his head toward her, startled by her comment then let out a loud sweet laugh. His light brown eyes glimmered as fresh snowflakes fell onto his lashes. He stood a few inches over her and didn’t seem cold in his basketball shorts and t shirt, as though his fit body couldn’t feel the winter that surrounded them.

“I don’t smoke all the time, but my father left me these great Cubans and once in a blue I have one on the porch. I sit there, remembering his advice, his jokes, the smell of his lapel.” His eyes were sad for a moment and Sunny knew that emotion all too well.

“When did your father pass?”

He seemed to try to locate the response in his mind, as though he could still hardly believe it.

“Two years?” He shook his head. “Almost three actually. Time, sometimes it...” She nodded, understanding. Her grandmother had been her everything, her only parent, her dearest friend, her confidante. The days blended together and at times Sunny couldn’t remember if it had been a year or a day. The pain, it was always there. Time had a way of never being able to measure the depth of love nor being able to contain it.

“My grandmother’s been gone only a few months. It’s like the air has changed, nothing is the same.” He nodded fiercely as if he understood her completely. Before they even made it to the hotel entrance it seemed they knew each other better than any other person in their respective worlds ever could in those fragile moments of grief.

Sunny wanted to change her name these days. It didn’t match her usual bubbly personality anymore. Her name was Zunilda, but her little sisters had called her Sunny from the time they could speak and since Sunny was an upbeat positive person, it fit. But the days and weeks following her grandmother's death had changed her to the point where she could not and wasn’t sure if she wanted to, identity with her own name.

Back in her hotel room, she was smiling for the first time in weeks after her encounter with Jasper. She truly couldn’t believe it.

Jasper Cain Sheridan.

Sunny doubled over in laughter, typewriter pieces strewn everywhere but in those moments after the awkward and emotional meeting with Jasper all she could do was laugh out loud.

Of course, he had seemed so familiar. But he was much older than her memories provided her, mid 40s but still so good looking. Men always aged well. Grey wisps of hair hinted at his roots and faint crow’s feet painted the sides of his eyes, but he was as handsome and captivating as Sunny and millions of others had known him to be so long ago.

Her laughter faded but her smile remained later in the evening, after she pulled on fleece pajamas and pulled back her long dark curls into a high bun. She cozied up in the comfortable blankets of her king size bed while she waited for room service. She pulled out her phone and searched Apple Music for the familiar sounds of her youth. She smiled some more as she closed her eyes. The mesmerizing lyrics sounded just as perfect as they always had.