I toywith the shell hanging on the chain around my neck as I cross the small patch of sandy grass between my house and Ethan’s.The trinket is my new favorite thing, and it isn’t even yellow.
After chatting with Willow, I formed a plan, which I lovingly named: Operation Healthy Distraction.
From what I’ve gleaned about Ethan, he’s not the type of guy to miss a deadline.He’ll do everything possible to finish this project on time, which I respect.However, he doesn’t need to kill himself doing it.
That’s why I added “healthy” to the title.Because you know what happens when you don’t take time out to breathe?You suffocate.And the man I spent the night with during the storm looked like he was drowning.
Ethan answers his door on the third knock, his hair slightly damp and curling over the collar of his bottle-green T-shirt.He looks good—he smells even better.
“Oh, good.You’re ready,” I say with a smile.“Throw on your shoes and let’s go.”
He doesn’t do either of those things.He stands there, staring at my chest.Not that I blame him; I’ve been told by multiple drunks at the Sand Dollar that I have a great rack.
“You made the shell into a necklace,” he says.
Okay, so maybe he isn’t staring at my breasts.His loss: they look damn good in this tank top.I love how the flowy white fabric dips under my arms, offering a peek of the lacy racerback bra I’m wearing underneath and a glimpse of my tattoo.“I told you I was going to keep it.”Not sure why it surprises him so much.“Are you coming or not?”It’s a long walk, and I’m excited to get this party started.
To my amazement, Ethan slips on a pair of white sneakers and steps onto the deck.From the pocket of his cargo shorts, he withdraws a set of keys and locks up the house.“What’s wrong?”he asks with a frown.“Is the pipe leaking again?”
He’d lock his door just to come next door?Weirdo.“The pipes are just fine and dandy.You and I are going out.Out-out.”He opens his mouth, presumably to protest, but I cut him off with my very logical and well-thought-out explanation.“Save your excuses.You can’t stay in that empty house all night.The season officially kicks off next week, and this place will be swimming with tourists come Friday.This is your last chance to enjoy this place like a local.I know you have a lot of work to do, but you need some fun in your life, too.Might as well hang out with a beautiful woman for the night, then you can get back to being a workaholic on Monday.”Boom.Mic drop.I turn and start for the stairs, my flip flops slapping my feet with victorious little claps.
Ethan’s heavy footsteps sound at my back, and I can’t help but laugh when he says, “It’s only Saturday.”
“Sundays are for sunshine and the sea.If you’re not a new man come Monday morning, then you can turn me down next Saturday.”
“Or I could just turn you down now,” he grumbles as we pass my mailbox and take a left at the side street that leads to the main street.
In a couple of days, there will be traffic from here to the stoplights, but tonight it’s only us, the singing cicadas, and Mr.Walker—the fire chief—riding his beach cruiser toward the fire station.
Ethan could turn me down, but he’s not going to.Because I am determined.Singularly focused.And I plan on distracting him the entire way to the bar.
“See that house over there?”I point at a salmon-pink two-story with white shutters and a balcony on the roof that’s perfect for tanning.“That’s Lola’s parents’ place.”
“Am I supposed to know who that is?”
“You’ll meet her later.And Willow, too.We’ve all been best friends since elementary school.The guy who’s fixing your truck?His brother lives over there.”I nod toward Glenn Parish’s place.“His family also owns Grandma’s Crabs.”
That’s how the twenty-minute walk goes—me pointing things out, and Ethan asking why he needs to know any of this.
“You need to know because your parents are moving down here,” I say.“And I don’t want you to worry about them when you head back to Philadelphia.They’re going to be in good hands.”
We pass the hardware store, the grocery store, five tourist traps, Mugs, Grandma’s, and finally get to the Sand Dollar.
A collage of neon beer signs hangs on the black shiplap walls in between black-and-white framed photos of Inner Shores through the years.This place used to be a dump before Lola took it over; now it’s what I like to call island-chic.The Sand Dollar is known for loud music, laughter, and cheap beer every Tuesday and Thursday night.
The entire back wall is made of garage doors that, when lifted, open onto a patio of high-top tables and string lights.Behind that is a stretch of grass littered with cornhole boards, backed by dunes that give way to the beach.The sunsets here are as epic as the late nights.Next Friday kicks off the summer concert series, and bands will grace the stage in the corner of the lot every Friday and Saturday night until Labor Day.
Every year, the Sand Dollar throws a huge Fourth of July bash that ends with fireworks set off down at the pier.It’s one of my favorite nights ever—the true essence of summer.When I was a kid, I never wanted summer to end.As an adult, that feeling is still there: the excitement, the freedom.It’s a little different because I still have to wake up and go to work, but when you’re doing a job you love, that isn’t such a chore.
Lola gives me a wave from behind the bar.It’s not too busy yet, so she has a minute to come over and say hi.
I gesture at the giant quietly taking in the chaos around us.“Lola, this is my neighbor, Ethan.”
She gives him an unapologetic once over, her ruby lips tipping into a saucy smile.“Oh, I know exactly who he is.We’ve got some loose boards on the deck out back if you want to take that shirt off and earn a little extra cash.”
What the heck?I cover my burning face with my hands.This wasnotpart of the plan.I said to make Ethan feel welcome, not hit on him.“Oh my God, Lola.Keep it in your pants.We want him to like us, remember?”
There’s a dry, crackling sound beside me.
