“Oh my god, it’s like my pregnancy hormones are contagious.” Anita says, wiping her eyes. I laugh but know it’s more than that. I understand how she feels. It’s like once we met, our lives clicked into place.
It’s a feeling I don’t want to let go.
The plansfor that afternoon are to hit the beach. Everyone has the itch and texts fly between the Ocean Beach crew about where and when to meet.
“I really need a new suit,” I say, once everything’s firmed up. “Options are limited in Tennessee.”
“You should go next door,” Anita says. She’s reading from one of the pregnancy books she ordered for the store. “Hullabaloo has great stuff.”
“You mind if I go over now?” I ask. Business has picked up, but not enough that both of us need to be on the floor.
“Go for it.” Her eyes widen at something she reads. “Did you know that some women bury their placenta in the yard and then plant a tree over it?”
I shake my head.
“I wonder if I should do that?”
I leave her with her book and the two browsing customers and head to the shop next door. As I approach, I realize it’s the first time I’ve really paid attention to it. Like our shop, it’s a cottage converted into a retail space. Their siding is painted bright pink with lime green trim. There are two large front windows, both filled with clever designs made out of flipflops and sunglasses. I push open the door and I’m greeted by the sound of upbeat music along with racks and racks of clothing. The two girls I’d seen before, Isabel and Jessica, stand at the counter, flipping through a magazine. They look up when I enter and Jessica, with the flaming red hair, says, “Welcome to Hullabaloo,” then it’s obvious she recognizes me. “Oh hey, Summer, right?”
“Right,” I reply, knowing I’ve never given them my name. But that’s the curse of a small town. They’d just know. And truth be told, I hadn’t been introduced to them and I knew their names already, too.
I head to the bathing suit rack and pick through the hangers. Nothing is inspiring me—but I’m still not totally in my comfort zone. I’m stressing over the difference between halter, tube, bandeau, string, and the million other options when I hear, “Try this.”
I turn and find Jessica’s freckled nose right behind me, holding up a turquoise bikini with a halter top and matching bottom. There are tiny, embroidered flowers stitched into the fabric.
“It’s so bright, I don’t know if I can…”
“Just try it. Seriously. I have a really good eye for things like this.”
I take the hanger and walk to the back and into the dressing room. I change into the suit and dammit, she’s right. It looks really good with my eyes and hair. But it’s also…just a lot.
“Let’s see,” she calls from outside the room. I open the door.
“Holy shit.” Her green eyes are wide.
“What?” I panic.
“You look amazing. Iz, check it out.”
Isabel glances up from the magazine, eyes raking over me. “Looks hot.”
“Justin will love it. Trust me.”
I fidget with the ties at my hip. “Justin?”
“I saw you with him at The Camp. You guys are dating, right?”
And here’s the other side of small town life. Everyone knows your name. And your business.
“We’re close,” is all I’ll admit.
A snort travels across the shop. Jessica rolls her eyes. “Ignore her—she’s immature.” Her expression softens. “Look, I’m not trying to be nosy. I’m just stating a fact. You look bangin’ in that suit and whoever you’re dating will love it.”
I know she’s right and the suit is comfortable. It’s not like I’m buying it for the guys, anyway. It’s a necessity. I live here now. I need a bathing suit. Maybe two.
“So what are they like,” Isabel asks, when I get to the checkout.
I look down at the two suits. “Comfortable?”
