“Yes, Everett, I did notice your haircut,” I said, which turned his mock pout into a grin. “What a roundabout way to tell me you want me to say you look good.”
He did look good, in a way that couldn’t be wholly communicated over FaceTime. He looked a year postgrad in all the best ways: jawline a little sharper, facial hair a little better kempt, arms a little more toned under the sleeves of his T-shirt, muscles shifting as he reached into the open back window of the Bronco to grab his bag.
“Hey,” he said as we started toward the house. The others had pushed inside, and I could hear them rustling around in the kitchen, the hiss of beer caps being twisted off and the crinkle of a bag of chips being opened. I looked back at Everett, expectant. “The cottage is still available after we check out.”
I smirked. “Working for Expedia now?”
“Ralph’s been keeping me in the loop,” he said sarcastically. “He wants to make sure his favorite patrons keep returning.”
“That, or you throwing down your dad’s credit card last summer has something to do with it.”
He smiled at that, and I felt like I’d just won at some arcade game on the pier, tickets shooting out.
“Interested?” he asked.
I almost stumbled, heart leaping into my throat.
Iwasinterested, and that, we’d established last summer, was the problem. I seemed to have a real issue keeping my proverbial clothes on when it came to Everett. “You sure know how to proposition a girl, Bridges,”I finally replied, kicking the can of decision further down the road and taking another step toward the house.
“No proposition,” he replied, and when I looked at him, I could see he meant it, and was then startled to feel a small jolt of disappointment. “Just cooking shows, pier food, two more days at the beach.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
“Good. Can’t watch Ina all alone.” I shoved him away as he laughed and it trickled down my esophagus and straight to my stomach like I swallowed the sound.
“This one,” Laurel said, holding a silky tank top up in front of her. “This will be the top that tells everyoneLaurel’s got a new life.”
“What’s the focus now?” I asked, checking the price tag on a pair of shorts. “Laurel does LA?”
“No, no more travel content or city checklists,” Laurel said.She examined the top for a minute before shaking her head and hanging it back on the rack in the tiny boutique we were perusing. Apparentlynotthe choice for her newest path. “You know the meditation retreat I went on?” I nodded, trailing her to another rack. “Itopened my mind, Sutton,” she gushed, the same thing she told me just after the retreat itself. “So I’m thinking like, lifestyle and wellness? In a totally normal way, of course.”
“Of course,” I echoed.
Laurel was pawing through a rack of bandanas. “You know, you could advertise yourself on socials,” she said.
“Could I.”
She turned to me, eyebrow raised at my tone. “It’s not as evil as you make it out to be, Sutton. And you should get in now. There will be so much more noise in a few years to contend with.”
“I don’t think it’sevil,” I said. “I just don’t want to share my life online.”
“That’s the best part of it, though,” Laurel said. “You only share what you want to.”
“Maybe,” I told her. “I think I’m good with how things are going for now.”
“If you insist,” Laurel said. “But remember, I could run it for you.” She grins at the idea. “We’d have so much fun. And your face wouldn’t even have to be in it. Though—” she reached over, holding a red, floral bandana up next to my face “—it’s such a great face, we could totally market that.”
I knocked her hand away playfully. “We’re not marketing anything, thank you very much.”
“If you insist,” Laurel sighed. She held up her arms, laden with clothes. “I’m going to try this stuff on. You coming?”
“I think I’ll check on the guys next door,” I said. “Meet us when you’re done?”
Laurel waved me off and headed in the direction of the dressing rooms, but paused halfway there to call over her shoulder. “No shenanigans!” Her voice echoed around the light wood space as she winked. “Remember the pact.”
I laughed, a little guiltily, before wandering over to the bar where Gabe, Davi, and Everett had ended up after we’d meandered between shops for a couple hours. The front windows were all thrown open, letting the early summer heat in. Gabe and Davi were playing shuffleboard against a far wall, Everett seated at a table near them.
“Not a shuffleboard man?” I asked as I dropped my lone bag on the table.
