Page 22 of Seven Rules for Breaking Hearts

CC: Margo Anderson ([email protected])

Date: Jul 16, 5:16 PM

Subject: Pictures

Good evening,

Sorry to bother you after hours—I’m sure you’re eager to celebrate and enjoy your vacation—but I thought you might like to review some of the photos we took today and maybe share to your own social media pages. The images are attached in a zip file for your perusal. Per our friends at Avalon Adventure Co., it would be nice if you could include a tag in the image, and please refrain from using excessive filters or significantly altering the color. Minor touch-ups are fine.

Talk soon.

Cheers,

Renee

CHAPTER9

The pictures were about as unflattering as I had expected: messy and windswept, my facial expressions suggesting that I was unaware that my picture was being taken, and not in a fun, candid way. Rory had captured a couple shots of Declan leaning over me to inspect the pulley system, but they were awkward, and his face was too visible—not the sexy, mysterious sort of pictures I needed to generate a hint of drama for Season Seven. Instead, I downloaded one of just me with my back to the camera and shared it to my Instagram as we marched back to the hotel after a hearty dinner of chips and salsa and shrimp fajitas. Sometimes you have to step outside of your comfort zone, I captioned, tagging @AvalonAdventureCo in the bottom left corner of the picture. Renee’s email had made it sound like a suggestion, but I knew better. Nothing was ever a suggestion when it came to sponsors; it was a contractual obligation.

Chatter bounced off the polished tile floors in the lobby as our group crossed to the elevators, where a small queue had formed. A flock of visitors had arrived on the last ferry of the evening. We joined the throng, too full from dinner and sleepy from the heat and the day’s excitement to climb the stairs.

When I pocketed my phone, my eyes caught on Declan’s hazel ones and the corner of his mouth hitched up. Not quite a smile, but an acknowledgment of sorts. He’d seemed friendly enough today, with his attempted pep talk—which had kind of had the opposite effect, but still, the intentions were there. But I still didn’t have a good grasp on whether he was interested. As soon as he’d looked at me, he was back to looking at his watch.

What was wrong with me? I was supposed to be good at roping guys in. Maybe ten months without any hookups had left me a bit rusty. The only thing that seemed to get me much of anywhere was talking, so I sucked in a breath with a mind toward making casual conversation, though I hadn’t figured out what that conversation was going to be yet.

“Was wondering when you’d get back,” a familiar voice interjected.

A pretty girl with olive skin and a nose ring approached us, carrying a Hydro Flask covered in stickers that was almost guaranteed to be filled with cheap alcohol.

“Livyyy!” Jo squealed, flying to hug her. “Oh my God, you’re early. When did you get here?”

“A couple hours ago. I’ve been hanging around the bar. The manager mentioned that most of your party was out for some adventure thing today,” Liv explained as she extracted herself from the hug. “I got home a day early, and my things were mostly all still packed, so I figured I’d see if I could catch an earlier ferry and surprise you.”

I cast a sideways glance at Declan, curious to see whether he was paying any attention to Liv. Maybe I simply wasn’t his type. He’d said that thing a couple days ago down at the docks about me not changing much since high school, and I definitely wasn’t his type back then. But no—he wasn’t paying attention to Liv either, his attention still glued to his watch. I exhaled through my nose. I had no clue how to read this guy.

“How was the convention?” Jo was asking. “Did you find a new supplier?”

“A few potential candidates. There’s this one grower that is promising entirely non-GMO product, but I’m a bit skeptical.” After a quick hello to Peter, Liv turned to me. “You’re looking good,” she said as she pulled me into a sideways hug. “Love the ’fit. Very beachy.” She indicated my cutoff shorts, which failed to conceal my thighs, rubbed raw by the ziplining harness. I had scabby knees from the fall outside the restaurant bathroom a couple nights ago and now I had chafed thighs to match; at the rate I was going, might as well work on a sunburn and a couple bruises to really round out the look.

“You, too,” I said. Liv always dressed like she’d just crawled out of a thrift store. Her makeup had this effortless, slept-in thing going for it, and she’d bought a new opal nose ring since the aquarium incident.

“We’ll have to coordinate a day to sit down and work on some of the bachelorette party deets. I have a few ideas.” She shot me a conspiratorial wink. “That is, if you’re not totally booked up.”

“My schedule is wide open.” I was grateful for any input. I had loaded my suitcase with more penis-shaped party favors than I could justify (and was grateful that no one on the ferry bothered to inspect luggage), but my experience on Catalina was mostly limited to kid stuff: arcades and mini-golf. And the one summer I had lifeguarded here, but that was at a camp in Two Harbors on the opposite side of the island. “Except for the day of the wedding, of course.”

“And a couple of the promo shoots,” Jo reminded me.

“Those, too.”

The elevator dinged and the last of the newcomers shuffled inside with their luggage, which left only us waiting in the lobby. It wasn’t until we were alone that Liv seemed to register that Declan was part of our group. He seemed to have a way of shrinking into the background. “Which side are you?” she asked. “Bride? Groom? Plus-one?”

He looked up from his watch and introduced himself with a brief explanation of how he knew Peter, a story about helping with math homework that I hadn’t heard before. I guess I’d never really wondered how they came to be friends—people like them just were, these sort of one-dimensional figures in my head, but it was strange now listening to him introduce himself to people. In high school, we’d never been introduced, strictly speaking. He’d just sort of appeared, and within weeks, his reputation spoke for itself. I remembered a scrawny teenager who was all too eager to be the center of attention, but it was hard to tell whether that guy had ever been real or if he was only a figment of my imagination. But people changed. I had changed plenty, so it stood to reason that he had changed as well.

Liv squinted at him. “By any chance, are you related to anyone named Meredith? Because you guys look super alike. Red hair, owns the little clothing boutique down in Escondido?”

“Ah, no,” Declan said, with a long-suffering look. “Contrary to popular belief, I am not related to everyone in the world with red hair.”

“That’s what you think.” She swung her little hemp backpack around to extract her phone and started swiping. “Hold on, I’m going to show you a picture.”