Page 119 of Summer Love

“We’re scrubbing toilets for a guy who won’t even come to the party,” Miles sighs. “Charity work, zero return.”

“You’re a bartender, Miles. You spend your nights wiping down a counter. It’s not that different.”

“Marine biologist,” he corrects, pointing the rag at me. “The bar’s temporary.”

Sierra snorts. Kai shakes his head without a word, but the corner of his mouth lifts.

The restroom door opens. Noah walks in and stares at us. Us, the mops, the brooms, the buckets, the cleaning supplies.

“The hell… What are you guys even doing?”

“Making sure you don’t have any excuse to bail and go hide in your cabin,” I say.

His jaw tightens. He takes in the scene—Maya giving him a little wave with her latex glove, Miles polishing a mirror with feigned concentration, Sierra tying off a trash bag like everything’s normal.

“You’re insufferable, Summer.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He grunts, turns on his heel. The door swings shut behind him.

I smile and go back to my toilet bowl. He’ll come. I’m starting to know this version of Noah—the one who grumbles first but does the thing anyway.

This morning, when I went to get him for a run, his cabin was unrecognizable. Emptied out, cleaned. All his clothes were at the laundromat. “Don’t count on it lasting,” he muttered.

“He’ll come,” I say.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Sierra says, peeling off her gloves.

But she’s smiling too.

The pool glows electric yellow.

The lights shift color every thirty seconds and the water throws back reflections that are too bright. Above the pool, string lights hang between the palm trees and the main building, casting a golden glow.

Music spills from the bar’s speakers, loud enough to fill the space without drowning out conversation. The air smells like chlorine, sunscreen, and the salt-and-vinegar chips Kai spilled across the table.

It’s crowded. Lodge guests, people from town, a few tourists. Near the bar, Luke’s chatting with Evan. His gold chain glints when he talks with his hands. Chiara sits on a lounge chair, feet tucked under her. Ruby drinks straight from her flask.

Maya hands me a drink.

“Here. Miles made a watermelon cocktail.”

I take a sip. It’s good—cool, a little sweet, not too strong.

“He should open his own bar,” I say.

Harper shows up in a bikini and sarong. She scans the deck for someone, doesn’t find them. Her lips press together for a second.

I wonder if it’s Noah she’s looking for.

Jace, though, is here.

A drink in his hand, he sits at the far end of the long table. Boardshorts, white T-shirt… and he made an effort. Clean-shaven, hair pushed back. Nothing major—just enough for me to notice.

I hate him.

No. What I hate is finding him gorgeous.