Make Me Hate You

When we finally made it to the Cape, Tyler parked his truck in the driveway of one of the three-story cottages we’d rented for the party and he bolted out of the truck like it was on fire.

He’d already given quick hugs to his parents and shoved his hands into his pockets with his feet moving him toward the beach before I’d even opened the passenger side door.

I watched him go, watched the way the muscles of his back shifted under his t-shirt and the sea breeze blew through his hair, but it was only a millisecond before Morgan was at my side, barking out orders to everyone around for what to grab out of the truck and where to take it.

“Glad you two made it safely,” Robert said, pulling me into his side for a hug before he grabbed the first box out of the truck.