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Jamie is the kind of friend every girl should have. He didn’t judge me based on my last name. He isn’t badgering me with questions. And, bonus, outside of holding my hand to bring me out here, he’s thus far kept his hands to himself.
“People will come around, Greer. Or they won’t. Fuck ’em.” He sips from his beer and looks over at me. “I don’t need my job here like everyone else. I’m in college and spend my summers here because I like to be by the beach. I like surfing, and having a tan doesn’t suck. Neither does being around hot chicks in bikinis all summer long. I don’t need the money to live off of like most of these guys. My parents died my senior year in high school. They left me with huge life insurances and an already fat bank account. My cousin hooked me up with a job here last summer, and I couldn’t help but want to come back. So, you see, I don’t give a shit if you’re the boss’s daughter and hanging out with you might get me fired. But some of these people…”
I have nothing to say to that.Sorry for your losswould never cut it, and I don’t think he told me that because he wanted me to be sympathetic toward him or feel sorry for him.
He bumps his shoulder against mine. “I didn’t tell you that to be a bummer. I just wanted you to know you’re cool with me.”
I bump him back with my shoulder. “Thanks, Jamie.” And, because I’m a decent person and can’t help myself, I add, “I’m so sorry about your parents. I know sorry isn’t ever good enough. Well, I don’t know, but I just wanted you to—”
Shut up, Greer, you’re rambling.
“Don’t worry about it, and thanks. Are you ready for another beer yet?”
I’m not, mine’s still over halfway full. He tips his upside down over the side of the table and a few droplets fall out.
“I’m going to grab another one. Be back in a few.”
I drink beer and people watch. I don’t even mind sitting here by myself. My own company isn’t so bad.
There are several other picnic tables overcrowded with people, a firepit people are sitting around, roasting hot dogs and marshmallows on sticks over, and a swing set tucked away in the back corner with a lone figure occupying a swing.
It’s Brady. I can just make him out. His shoulders are slumped forward, and he’s kicking his bare toes in the sand.
I wait until my beer is empty, just in case Jamie comes back, before setting it aside and standing up. I’m glad Jamie hasn’t returned yet because I want to talk to Brady alone. I don’t really need Jamie to witness another embarrassing moment of one of them being rude to me.
There are a few girls on a picnic table who keep making eyes at Brady, and I don’t like it. I don’t want to sit here and watch him get hit on. Worse, I don’t want to watch him take one of them up on the offer they all want to hand over to him on a silver platter.
I sit down in the empty swing beside him. He looks up at me with hazy, miserable eyes, and I can immediately tell he’s drunk.
What is it with this guy?
“Are you over here having a drunk pity party all by yourself?” I ask sarcastically. “I thought this was supposed to be a party. You don’t look like you’re having a very good time.”
“You’d be having a pity party too if you were as big of a screw up as I am,” he slurs.
Yeah, see, I don’t think so. Not everything can be made better, I’m not stupid and naïve enough to believe that, But giving up never won you anything either. Plus, this constant drinking and wallowing just makes him look like a jackass and sound like one too.
I stand up to leave, because nothing good can come out of this conversation with him feeling so sorry for himself, when he grabs my hand and pulls me back down to my swing.
“Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t run off on me right now, Greer. I could really use a friend, at least one I haven’t screwed over by being an idiot.”
I roll my eyes. Really now, it can’t be that bad. “What have you done?” I ask.
His hand falls away from me, and he buries his face in both his hands. He groans loudly, and I almost feel sorry for him. Almost, but not quite.
“Tell me,” I urge. “You’ll feel better afterward for getting it off your chest.” At least I think he will, but how the hell would I know? These are uncharted waters for me.
“There’s this girl, Carly.”
Right. A girl. I immediately regret staying because I don’t want to hear him talk about any girl. Especially since my eyes keep drifting down to his lips and I recall how soft and demanding they were.
But I stay put. It would be too rude of me to just walk away now.
“And there’s this surfing competition. The guys and I needed a sponsor for the competition because we can’t pay the ten grand ourselves to enter. Carly got her dad on board to sponsor us, and then I messed it all up by hooking up with her, and she got pissed that I don’t want to like… date her now or be her boyfriend or whatever. She went crying to her daddy who dropped us. Now we’re up shit’s creek without a sponsor and no ten grand all because of my dumb ass. I screwed us all. Our hopes and dreams shot right down the toilet.”
Okay, well, no. Just no.
This is why he’s out here wallowing in self-pity and drinking himself stupid? Over ten thousand dollars? How ludicrous.
