Chapter 6 – Claire
SIX
CLAIRE
After Miles helps me bring my bags in and shows me to my room, I don’t see him again. Not after I unpack, not after I call June to tell her the news, of which she laughed maniacally, and not after I run to the store for a few essentials.
When I wake up early for my first day of work, his car is already out of the driveway, and a pang of guilt hits me as I realize he’s probably avoiding me.
Thankfully, my day is pretty busy, so I’m distracted enough that I can’t overthink things.
I arrive at the main lifeguard station, a raised, enclosed building on the sand with windows all around where everyone clocks in and where Helen keeps her office. She shows me around the small building, assigns me a cubby for my things, and has me fill out about a million papers.
After that, I’m officially a recreation department employee, and we spend the next six hours talking to what feels like everyone in town: the mayor, the first-aid crew, the fire chief, and a bunch of the people who work at or own the businesses on the boardwalk. Around four p.m., this season’s lifeguards come for orientation, and I’m introduced to each of them.
A group of teenage girls instantly latch on to me, chatting non-stop and asking me a million questions, though I don’t mind, since being from a small town myself, I get the excitement of someone new coming in. But my favorite is Jonah, a twelve-year-old junior lifeguard. There’s something about him that is so sweet and shy, and I instantly decided to take him under my wing this summer.
I’m exhausted but also excited for the prospect of the upcoming season when I finally make it back home to Miles’s house at almost six, only to find he’s still not home.
It’s why at seven p.m. that night, when he knocks on the doorframe of my room, I jump, not realizing he’d gotten back at all as I watched the ocean from the small deck attached to my room.
When I turn to look at him, he looks comfortable, leaning against the doorframe and making me wonder just how long he’s been there.
“Crap, you scared me,” I say, putting a hand to my chest.
“I was standing here for a while,” he says as if that absolves him from startling me. It doesn’t, instead, it confirms he’s been watching me for some time.
But why?
“Sorry, I was just taking in the view. It’s beautiful,” I say, looking back over my shoulder at the ocean. “Do you ever see dolphins from here?” He gives me a blank look and I continue rambling on. “I love them, and I always wanted to see them in real life, living their little dolphin lives in the ocean.”
He stares at me as if he’s trying to understand what I’m saying before he shakes his head.
“You haven’t seen any?”
He shakes his head again before finally speaking. “No, I have a few times. You can see them if the ocean is super warm and it’s still pretty cold out there. As you know.”
I can’t help the small smile that comes to my lips. “Yeah, I guess.”
He’s silent as he steps further into what is now my room, stopping at the white dresser where I laid out all of my shells. I don’t know exactly why I packed them up and brought them, but I like seeing them, and I suppose that’s a good enough reason.
“What are these?” he asks, touching a dark blue scallop shell delicately, his fingers barely grazing over it.
“My shell collection,” I say with a smile. “You should recognize most of them.” He turns to me, a bit confused, and I smile wider. “Since you were there every time I found the good ones. You’re basically my lucky charm.”
Miles continues to stare at me for long moments before he seems to snap out of some kind of daze, averting his eyes back to the shells. “Hmm,” he mumbles.
The urge to continue to pull conversation out of him the way I’ve always done tugs at me, and I move, sitting on the edge of my bed and chatting. “It’s on my list, you know.”
“Your list?” he asks, stepping away from the dresser.
I lift my phone where a photo of the list I made with June lives and wave it toward him. “My list of things I want to do this summer. I’m planning on getting the full beach bum experience.” He gives me a look, and I’m surprised when he speaks instead of just moving past it to whatever he actually came in here to ask me about. “Anything I should add?” I ask, looking at him.
“Add?” he asks, confused as always.
“Anything you think I should add to my list?” He stares at me blankly, and I laugh. “What do you do for fun around here in the summer? I’m sure you have something I can add.”
“I don’t do things for fun,” he says quickly, then instantly a mask comes over his face like even he knows that was the wrong answer.
I tip my head to the side curiously. “What do you mean you don’t do things for fun? You’re human.”
“I don’t…” He hesitates, then runs a hand over his hair, his tell that he’s uncomfortable, and shrugs. “I don’t know. I work a lot.”
“So you don’t do anything for yourself?”
He shakes his head to argue. “No, no, I do.” I raise an eyebrow because suddenly, I don’t believe him, not at all. “I surf,” he says.
“Don’t you teach surf lessons?”
“How do you know I teach surf lessons?” he asks, and I fight the blush that burns over my cheeks. I will not be admitting to Miles that I have spent the past six summers taking note of everything I can about him.
“I saw your ad in the rec center,” I say, which isn’t a complete lie. “But teaching lessons isn’t fun. When was the last time you surfed for yourself?”
He stares at me for long moments, and I know the answer is obviously long enough that he can’t easily remember, and something about that hurts my heart. Miles, who is constantly helping everyone and anyone who needs it, doesn’t take time for himself. He shakes his head and stands up straight, clearly not interested in this conversation.
“It doesn’t matter, enough about me. I came up here for a reason.”
I smile at him. “It wasn’t just to be a friendly roommate?”
He glares at me in response, pushing off the wall and standing up straight again. “I think we should go over the rules.”
I quirk an eyebrow at him, lips tilting with a smile. “Rules?” He nods, crossing his arms on his chest as if he’s ready to argue with me. “You should know now, I’m not great at rules. You can ask my dad. They always make me feel this unexplainable urge to do the opposite.”
He shakes his head as if erasing some thought from it before he stands up straighter like he means business. “Rule number one, no parties.”
“Bummer. I hope I can get my deposit back on the three kegs for next weekend.”
He glares but continues with his rules. “No pets.”
I look around the room as if I’m looking for one, then brush a hand over my forehead with fake relief. “Good thing I left my hedgehog at home.”
He blinks at me a few times before responding curiously.
“You have a hedgehog?”
I shake my head and smile. “No, but if I did, it would be pretty lonely.” I shift on the bed, curling my leg under myself and putting a fist to my chin like I’m a student paying attention to the teacher. “What other rules do you have?”
“No overnight guests. June or Lainey are fine. No…no guys.”
My eyes go wide with fake shock because I wouldn’t have even considered bringing home someone to Miles’s house.
“What about daytime guests?” I tip my head to the side, my hair tumbling over my shoulder, and I use a finger to twirl a lock of it around. “Like, if they just come for a quickie. Is that allowed?”
“No,” he says bluntly and quickly, and I fight a small laugh before giving him a salute.
“Got it. Take it to their place.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Curfew is eleven.”
“Curfew?” I ask with a laugh. “I haven’t had a curfew since I was seventeen.”
“Well, then we’re going to pretend you’re seventeen.”
“That would make things very awkward between us,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows, and as expected and hoped, a blush spreads across his cheeks.
His jaw tightens, and he points an accusing finger at me. “That. We’re not doing that.”
“Doing what?” I ask, innocently.
“That’s my next rule. No flirting.”
I cringe. “Ooh, that’s gonna be a hard pass. Physically impossible for me.”
He sighs and runs a hand over his face like he’s questioning all of his life’s choices, specifically agreeing to have me stay here. After a moment, he seems to have found whatever inner strength he was looking for and locks his eyes with mine, shoulder straightening.
“You can’t flirt with me, Claire.”
“Why not? I love flirting. It’s basically one of my three personality traits. Hot, funny, a flirt.” I tick them off on my fingers with a grin, and he opens and closes his mouth like he wants to argue before shaking his head.
“Because you’re my renter, and I’m your landlord. And you’re my brother’s ex.”
I roll my eyes at that.
“That means nothing to Paul, and I’m sure even you know that.”
His head tips just a bit, and then his mouth opens like he’s about to argue before he thinks better of it. “Regardless, no flirting. Pretend I’m your brother. Or your dad.”
“That would make thinking about you very uncomfortable, Miles,” I say in an exaggerated whisper. His eyes go comically wide before he stutters out an answer.
“ No ,” he says. “None of that. End of discussion.”
“But it’s so cute when you blush and get all weird about me,” I say with a smile.
He lets out a deep sigh, and god, it’s like when I first came here when I was nineteen, when every time I was down the shore with June, I would purposely flirt with him, and he’d instantly get all red and nervous.
It’s like a jolt of nostalgia hits me, aching because I truly did miss this.
“We’re not doing that. No flirting.”
I roll my eyes. “God, you really don’t ever have fun, do you? Do you even know how to have fun?”
“Excuse me?” he asks.
“Do you ever have fun? These rules kind of make it so you can’t have fun ever. No pets, no parties, no one-night stands, no flirting…no fun.”
“I don’t think anyone has fun like you do, Claire,” he says, exasperation in the words.
I shrug.
“If they did, I bet people would live longer.” He gives me a disbelieving look. “Because they wouldn’t be so stressed and depressed, obviously.”
“I don’t know if that’s how that works.”
“You need some fun in your life,” I say. “Or you’re going to die young and not because you were enjoying yourself too much. From a boredom-induced heart attack or something equally tragic.”
“I very much do not need more fun.”
“You do. Even Paul used to tell me.” He gives me a deadpan look.
“Well, Paul isn’t the most responsible person, so I don’t put much weight in that,” he says, a fair point.
“June said it, too. And Grant. And Helen.”
His jaw goes tight once again, clearly unhappy that so many people have such an opinion on him and his life. “Yeah, well, that’s their opinion,” he says, then turns away to leave the room.
“I think,” I say, and he pauses, looking over his shoulder. “I’m going to make it my mission for you to loosen up this summer.” He leaves without another word, and I smile as he walks down the hall, my new mission clear.