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“I talk to him almost every day.” I smile at her.
“Everyone likes a piece of ass; no one likes a smartass.” Dottie narrows her eyes at me. “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”
Letting out a sigh, I look away from her and start ripping apart a napkin on the table. “I’ve tried. He doesn’t listen.”
“Acting disinterested every time he brings up you being the next mayor is not talking to him. Speak louder,” Dottie orders me.
It’s not like I ever came right out and told my grandmother how I felt; she just knew. One morning, I woke up in a cold sweat after having the worst nightmare about being mayor, and for the first time in my life, I just felt it in my soul that it wasn’t right for me. I spent the next week in a complete panic, until I met up with Dottie for lunch one day. She took one look at me and immediately guessed what was wrong.
I wish my dad understood me as well as Dottie, so we’d never have to have this uncomfortable conversation.
“I will. I just…. I don’t want to disappoint or hurt him.”
He was devastated when my mom left. I’m all he has right now. Running Summersweet Island is the only thing he cares about other than me. If I tell him I don’t want to follow in his footsteps, or in the footsteps of all my ancestors, and that running this island is not important to me at all, he will not take it well. I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me, and I don’t want to hurt him like that.
“Ryan, you could never disappoint him, even if you tried. He’ll probably be a little shocked and think this is coming out of nowhere, but he’ll get over it. You’re a good son. Theperfectson. You’re so perfect I want to punch you in the face sometimes.” Dottie huffs.
“Um, thanks?” I laugh.
“I love you, but you don’t always have to be the good guy who does everything everyoneelsewants him to do, instead of what you want.”
“Well, I don’t exactly want to be a bad guy either,” I tell her.
“Of course not!” She scoffs. “But you need to find a happy medium. One that actually makesyouhappy. And puts a little excitement in your life… likethatone over there.”
Dottie nods toward the concession stand, and I have to do a double-take when I look over and see Danny leaning forward to rest both her elbows on the counter while she talks to the owner of Wavy Lanes, Dale McIntyre. She’s wearing black skinny jeans with rips in them, white Converse on her feet, and a black band T-shirt that’s been cut off, showcasing her midriff. She looks so casually sexy it makes my heart beat even faster just looking at her.
This is a small island. I was bound to run into her somewhere at some point before we spoke again. I just didn’t expect to see her inmyplace so soon. Seeing her here at the bowling alley is different than seeing her in my home. It’s almost more personal. This is where I go to think, relax, and be myself. I feel the most comfortable at school in front of the smartboard, talking about numbers, and here at Wavy Lanes. With the crack of a ball hitting the lane when it’s tossed, the crashing of pins going down when a ball hits them, the ’80s rock music blasting from the sound system, and the smell of all the unhealthy fried foods coming from the concession stand, this is my happy place. And now Danny is invading that happy place, and once again, all I can think about is sliding my hands around her waist, against all that soft, smooth skin I can see, and getting her naked on one of the recently waxed lanes.
My palms immediately get sweaty, and I have to clear my throat a few times when she turns away from Dale, and our eyes meet.
Even with her hair up in a messy bun, she’s still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, multiplied by a thousand since I know what her lips feel like on mine. When a smile stretches across her face as soon as she sees me, butterflies start flapping around in my stomach.
“I already told you,” I speak to Dottie as Danny starts making her way over here. “That’s not going to happen. She’s—”
“Your friend’s sister, and you don’t want to cross a line,” she finishes for me. “I know. But I think you’re forgetting that Tristan is an asshole. He’s not your friend. You barely speak to him a few times a year, and it’s only when he needs something. The last time, he needed you to put in a good word for him with Quinn, because he wanted tickets to the Super Bowl. And the time before that, he wanted you to introduce him to Palmer after he won the Bermuda Open, to see if he wanted to invest his winnings in real estate. He’s just using you.”
All things I already know….
“Who gives a shit about crossing any lines?” Dottie continues. “From where I’m sitting, the only line is the one you’ve invented in your head.”
“You know it’s a foul if you cross the line,” I mutter.
“Piece of ass, smartass. You havegotto get your priorities straight,” Dottie complains. “This is not a bowling tournament. If you don’t run as fast as you can over that line, someone else will.”
“Hey, Ryan!” Danny gets to our table right when Dottie finally stops talking, thank God.
My grandmother nudges me with her elbow to get me to move out of our seat, and I slide off the bench and stand up next to Danny. As soon as Dottie is standing next to us, she wraps her arms around Danny and pulls her right in for a hug. “You must be Danny. I don’t even know you, and I like you already. We should go get tattoos together.”
Danny laughs, and the sound hits me right in the chest as she pulls back from the hug.
“Since when do you want a tattoo?” I ask my grandmother.
“Since now. Eat shit.”
“You must be Dottie.” Danny smiles at her. “Ryan has told me about you.”
“Was it all good things?”
