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“Maybe you’ll need them for me,” she says, knocking my shoulder with hers. “I’m a notorious late sleeper.”
This girl is delightful and cheery in a way that is decidedly adorable, in addition to being really hot. I’m going to have a hard time working next to her if I’m crushing on her as well. Maybe I can put her in a sisterly co-worker light?
She reaches past me to grab her drawstring bag, takes some sunscreen out, and starts applying it to her arms, chest, and shoulders. I think it’s going to be impossible. Maybe she has bad breath or chews really loud.
Spoiler alert—she has none of those things. After working with her for a few weeks I’ve decided, Mollie James is the perfect girl. Too bad she is clearly not interested.
“Just a week until the fourth, you ready for the full-on summer?” Mollie asks me. She is twirling her whistle, leaning forward, eyes glued to the shoreline. “Shit, I can’t stop twirling this thing. I promised myself I’d never be one of those lifeguards who twirled. I’m a cliché.”
“I’m ready, and the twirl is a classic guard tradition handed down over the decades. There’s no shame in your twirl game.” I lean back, cross my leg over my knee, and start spinning my own whistle.
“Ugh, this day is dragging. Is it really only 2?” she asks, checking her watch. “I hate days like this. I’m bored.”
The beach is mostly empty since it’s been drizzling off and on all morning and into the afternoon. There are a few die-hards, but it’s still June so we are guarding one old dude, and a mom with two kids. The mom and kids are having a blast, running around the surf, collecting shells, making castles. The old dude is too, I guess. He’s sitting under an umbrella reading a giant paperback.
Unless it’s a thunderstorm, we have to show up. The weather has been nice for the past week or so until today. The nice weather makes us busy so Mollie and I have only had passing conversations about our lives, graduation, college. When the day is over, I’m exhausted but usually go to one of the other guard’s houses to hang or go to a party or two. I’ve seen Mollie out once or twice, but she seems to like being home. Today is a gift to get to know her better.
“We could play a game?” I suggest.
She shrugs and pulls her hood up. We have an umbrella set up to keep us dry, but it is still a chilly day for the end of June. We are both in full LBI guard-issued sweats and covered everywhere except our feet.
“Depends on the game, I’m not doing any dares today like, go make small talk with the guy reading, or swim out to the buoy.” She flicks her whistle around her wrist and shivers.
“No dares, but maybe two truths and a lie?”
She purses her lips, considering it. Her eyes scan the surf and the beach and then she turns to me. “Deal, but one of us needs to be watching and I vote you go first.”
“Fine, I’ll watch and you talk,” I say taking over scanning our section of beach, even though there’s nothing to see.
While I scan, I also steal looks at her. She’s truly a pretty girl with the sprinkle of freckles across her nose that mirror mine, her friendly smile, and kind blue eyes. Her golden hair wraps around the top of her hoodie as she concentrates. I don’t stand a chance of not having a full-blown crush on her.
“When I was ten, I stole my dad’s car and drove around the block and on to my neighbor’s lawn.” Her face is neutral and I have no idea if this is true or not. “I hate avocados,” she adds, still a blank face. “I’ve almost had sex twice but I still have my V card.”
She sits there with a stone-cold straight face and I laugh.
“Okay, that’s a good start, you keep watch,” I say and as she takes over, I stare at her. “I’m not touching the V card statement, and even though it sounds outrageous, I can see you being a juvenile delinquent, so, I’m going to go with the hating avocados is a lie.”
Her hands clench. “Dammit, I do love guacamole and avocado toast.”
“I learned another truth about you too,” I say nudging her.
“What’s that?”
“You’re competitive, little Hatchet.”
“Pretty sure you knew that from training, but yes, I will wipe the floor with you in any game, so bring it Hart. Did you just call me Hatchet?”
“I certainly did, because you cut me, but also there’s a band called Molly Hatchet and I’m not very original.” I laugh. “I am terrible at math, my dad once made me walk home three miles in the rain because I lost a race in track, and I’m also a virgin.” I’ve schooled my face so hopefully, she can’t tell which one is the lie.
“Holy shit, two virgin lifeguards,” she whispers and I laugh again. “That story about your dad is specific and super sad, so it’s probably true. Besides, you don’t seem like the type to admit to being bad at something.”
“Yet I’m the type to admit to being a virgin?”
She shrugs. “Yes, because you are also a kind person who didn’t want me to feel bad, while also boasting about being good at math.”
“What about the daddy sob story?”
“That’s just it, you want me to feel sorry for you, know how big your brain is, and yet feel camaraderie in our inexperience.”
