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Crap. Maybe she doesn’t know what I’m even talking about.
“The Titans, I mean. I’m on the football team and—”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Okay… Well, uh. Anyway, is there any possibility you’d give me another chance?”
She tucks a curl behind her ear, but it just pops right back. “I don’t think so.”
“Please… Caroline,I am begging you.”
I clasp my hands together in a plea, but she just looks down at them blankly.
“Um, maybe you should take this back.” She tries to hand me the puffer fish. “I’m sorry.”
I sigh. “You can keep the fish. It wasn’t…. It’s not—Look, can you please at least think about it? Maybe sleep on it and let me know tomorrow?”
“I don’t think there’s any point. I’ve already decided.”
Shit.
I let my head fall back… stare up at the white-washed wood paneling over the porch for a couple of seconds, then face her again. I nod slowly a couple of times. “Alright, then.”
She doesn’t say anything. She’s looking down at the fish, still stroking her fingers along its belly. The front door opens just then, and her mother pops her head out.
“Oh, you’re out here,” she says, all smiles. “I put the brownies on a plate. Why don’t you come in and—”
“He’s just leaving, Mom.”
Her smile drops. She looks genuinely disappointed. “Are you sure? I can—”
“He was just dropping something off,” Caroline says. It’s the most assertive I’ve heard her so far.
“Oh. Alright then.” Her mom gives me an almost apologetic smile. “Well, uh. It was nice meeting you, Sebastian.”
“Yeah, you too.” I nod, then turn back to her daughter. “I’ll see you later, Caroline.”
“Yup. See you later.”
I head back down the stairs, past the bales of hay, and the jack-o’-lanterns that I swear to God are all laughing at me now.
Chapter Seven
Caroline
I’mthemostnervousI’ve been in years.
My palms are sweating so much they’re slipping on the steering wheel as I pull into the parking lot at the edge of the historic town center, just past the Mallard traffic circle. I usually love coming into town, wandering the historic cobblestone streets, but today I’m here on a mission, and I’m sort of freaking out. I’m going to apply for a job at Board and Brews.
Clearly, the tutoring gig with Sebastian is not going to pan out. Truthfully, I wish I had trusted my gut and bowed out as soon as I found out who I would be tutoring and saved myself the humiliation. And the awkward visit from Sebastian yesterday, where he all but got on his knees and begged me to give him a second chance. I mean, he actually tried to bribe me with a puffer fish stuffy. Which, okay, is really adorable. I am sort of in love with Carmine (yes; I named her), but only because I’d already spotted her a few weeks ago in the window of Seashell Treasures and have been coveting her ever since. You’d be surprised how rare puffer fish stuffies are.
Still, I wasn’t fooled by Sebastian’s charm tactics. I’m not going to fall under his spell and cave to his whims like the rest of the SH Prep female population, just because he’s popular and handsome and good at football. In fact, for those very reasons, he’s the kind of guy I want to stay as far away from as possible. So, it’s probably for the best he forgot about our first tutoring session yesterday. It was just the jolt I needed to remind me why agreeing to the sessions was a terrible idea in the first place, no matter how appealing the pay was.
But none of this makes me any less nervous about venturing outside of my shell and applying for a job that may not involve a popular jock, but still involves interacting with strangers my age. I’ve only had a job once before—a summer gig helping to clean and maintain the tanks at the Sandy Haven Museum—and the only other person working with me in that area of the museum was a man in his early fifties.
But this job at Board and Brews could be okay. I think. It definitely seems like the least daunting of any postings out there. And by least daunting, I guess I mean most nerdy—which is more my style. Still, I’m a nervous wreck right now. I keep imagining a zillion different scenarios where I make a fool of myself or clam up when I meet the manager or say something weird or do something awkward. Putting myself out there like this—promoting myself—is so far out of my comfort zone.
The walk from the boardwalk parking lot to the café feels like miles. But also, feels like it’s not nearly long enough. I take a deep breath as I approach the entrance, reminding myself the butterflies in my stomach that usually warn me away from potentially stressful situations could actually keep me from achieving something that’s really important to me right now if I cave to them.
