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“Yeah.” I force a smile, stepping down from his Jeep. “I’m fine.”
Sebastian lifts his ball cap and runs his fingers through his hair before pulling it back on. Another mannerism that is becoming familiar. One of those things he seems to do out of habit; sort of like the thumb tapping.
He glances at me again, his eyes skimming my body. “Shit. You’re gonna be cold.”
I’m wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. It’s pretty thin, and it’s getting chillier now that the sun is going down. He’s right: I should have brought a sweater. I hug my arms around myself, partially to keep warm, but also because I’m suddenly really self-conscious under his scrutiny.
“Hold on.” He strides toward the passenger door and pulls it open, grabs one of the sweatshirts from the back seat and slams the door again. “Here,” he says, handing me the gray hoodie.
“Oh, uh… Thank you.”
I pull it over my head and… wow. It’s really cozy. Possibly the coziest thing I’ve ever put on. Soft and worn and it smells faintly of detergent and grass and… Sebastian.
It’s also huge on me.
“You might wanna roll up the sleeves a little.” He laughs as I’m already doing just that. And a couple minutes later, we’re crossing the street and wandering along the boardwalk. This and the four streets behind, form the main touristy part of Sandy Haven, where all the fancy gift shops and restaurants and boutiques are. There’s a wide stone patio along all the storefronts on this main stretch that’s filled with tables and parasols in the summer months, and packed with tourists. Actually, half of them are tourists and the other half are people who own summer homes in Sandy Haven and live here from mid-June until September.
A lot of locals hate the summer months, when our quiet seaside town suddenly becomes inundated with loud tourists and city-dwellers, and when everything gets intensified: the smells, the sounds, the colors… the stress of finding a free parking spot when you just want to grab something quickly from one of the local shops. I’ve never minded it, though. I like the different vibe it gives the town. How much easier it becomes to be anonymous once June rolls around.
The fall is surprisingly busy too, though. Especially on weekends, when tourists come for the quintessential autumn New England vibe here: pastel cedar-shingled shops draped in flame-colored garlands and wreaths, pumpkins clustered on bales of hay outside doorways, and quaint coffee shops serving pumpkin-flavored everything.
We only pass a couple of people this evening, though—all of them much older, thankfully. Still. most of them know Sebastian. They say hi to him and congratulate him on the game Friday. It’s likeeveryonein this town loves him. His phone keeps buzzing too, with the usual stream of incoming messages or social media notices or whatever. He pulls it out every once in a while to glance at the screen, but most of the time, he just ignores it.
We’re about two stores away from Scoopies when we hear a high-pitched female voice call out, “Sebbeeeeeeyy!” a few giggles, and then louder, and more than one voice, “Seb Murdoch!”
Sebastian glances around, and sure enough, perched on the raised stone wall along the waterfront sidewalk across the street, are three girls I recognize from SH Prep. I think they’re all seniors.
Seb lifts a hand. “Hey, Lisa! Sal, Zoey, whatsup?”
They all wave.
“Hey Sebby! Come say hi!” one of them calls.
Sebastian starts sauntering across the street, then halfway across, glances back, and motions with a tilt of his head. “Come on.” He grins. “You’re not gonna stay there alone, are you?”
Part of me hates that he is so oblivious to what a pariah I am to our peers. But part of me sort of likes it. It means there’s a chance he’s not being nice to me out of pity. Maybe he genuinely wanted to hang out with me tonight.
Still, I really don’t want to have to face those girls across the street. Especially knowing how they’ll react to seeing me there with Sebastian. But I can hardly keep standing here by myself now that he’s called attention to me. So, I walk slowly over to where Sebastian’s already hugging each of the girls.
His mouth stretches into a wide smile when he notices me approaching. And when I step onto the sidewalk, he pulls me a little closer to him with his palm against my lower back.
“Hey, do you guys know Caroline?”
They all look at me with wide, confused eyes. “Oh, uh, no. I don’t think so,” one of them finally says. “I’m Lisa.”
“Zoey,” another one says.
“Sal,” the third girl says.
I nod a little lamely. “Uh, hi. I’m Caroline.”
Which they already know since Sebastian literally just told them. But at least my words didn’t come out in a petrified whisper. So, I’m going to count that as a win.
“What are you guys up to?” Sebastian asks, dropping his hand now. And I sort of miss the comfort of his touch as I face down my first semi-normal peer interaction with SH Prep kids in over two years.
Zoey shrugs. “We just went for chocolate fondue at Scoopies.”
“Cool, we’re heading there now,” Seb says, pulling his phone from his pocket when it pings for the fourth time in succession. He glances at the screen, then slides it back in his pocket.
