Chapter 7 – Claire
SEVEN
CLAIRE
When June suggested I move down here for one last summer of fun before I force myself to get serious about figuring out what I want to do with my life, we made our list of fun things to do this summer.
Most of them were silly, like watching a sunrise or getting a killer tan, but I’m glad Miles didn’t ask to actually see my list because we also added insane things, like hooking up with a local and fucking someone on a lifeguard chair.
Both of which I would be more than willing to do with my new landlord, even if he clearly has no interest in that.
I thought for the slightest moment in the ocean with him that there might be…something, but I think that was me reading into the crush I’ve had since I was nineteen, not reality.
Happens to the best of us.
But when Miles told me he doesn’t have fun, I thought maybe we could kill two birds with one stone. I knock out my summer bucket list and force Miles to have some fun this summer as well.
Definitely not an excuse to convince him to spend more time with me.
I was up with the sun the following day since I left the curtains wide open, not that I could really complain too much despite not being a morning person, since I’m now waking up on the ocean. Miles’s house is huge, and the only thing between us and the actual sand of the beach is the twelve-foot boardwalk. There are multiple decks on the property overlooking the water, including one right off my room.
Could I be any more lucky?
Digging through my things, I find what I’m looking for, a small stack of colorful papers I brought because you never know when you’ll need it, as well as the zipper pouch full of colorful pens. I’m grateful that I always pack like a wild animal, forgetting about one-third of what I might actually need and bringing a ton of shit I probably won’t need.
It’s for times like these when I suddenly need paper and markers to make a colorful list more than I need that comfortable pair of walking shoes I left at my sisters’ place.
After I get dressed in a bathing suit, an oversized Seaside Point Lifeguard sweatshirt, and a pair of shorts, I grab my things. Moving down the stairs quietly, I quickly make myself a premade coffee, one of the few groceries I bought yesterday, and then sit out on the deck while I start my summer project.
Two hours later, my list is done and decorated. I’m still out on the deck, face down on one of the foldable chairs and tanning when the side door slams unexpectedly. I bolt up to sitting quickly, putting a hand to my chest as the flimsy fabric of my top almost falls down.
I’d been lying on my stomach and flipping through a tabloid magazine to see if I could find anything funny about Jules’s friends, Ava or Harper, who always end up in these magazines to tease them about later, and kept the ties off my back to avoid tan lines. I already know that summer as a lifeguard is going to result in the wildest ones possible.
“Jesus, sorry,” Miles says as I watch him step onto the deck and then stumble back, putting a hand to his eyes.
I don’t think he saw anything, though I wouldn’t care if he did. I always thought it was strange how men are allowed to go for a run with their nipples out for everyone and their mom to see, but a nip slip on a woman is worthy of front-page news.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” I say, turning a bit to face him, still holding my top in place.
“Are you decent?” he asks, panicked.
I fight a smile as I answer. “I’m covered if that’s what you’re asking.”
He carefully peeks around his fingers in a way that is almost, dare I say, cute, before he drops his hand completely when he sees I’m holding my top up and covering myself, my back to him.
“Are you okay?” I ask with a smile, looking over my shoulder at him.
His eyes are wide and stuck on my back that’s bare. I know I’m not supposed to tan, UV rays, skin cancer, and all of that, but a few minutes out in the sun, tanning is almost a vice at this point.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to get a base before the summer. Those lifeguard tan lines are going to be brutal,” I say, draping the top ties over my shoulders and hooking the back clasp with ease.
“Without a top?” he asks, and when I look back at him again, his eyes are still locked on me, though he looks to his feet as soon as he notices I’m watching him.
“I have a top on,” I say, draping the ties over my shoulders. I then grab my hair in one hand and lift it, turning my back to a still-silent Miles. “Do you mind tying this?”
“What?”
I look over my shoulder with a smile I can’t fight.
“My top. Can you tie it? I don’t have a hair tie, and if I do it on myself, my hair will get tied up in it, and it hurts.” He stares at me for long moments, blinking a few times before he clears his throat. “Please?”
“I thought we made rules about you flirting with me.”
“I’m not flirting, I’m just living my life.” He glares at me, and I let out a small laugh because he looks so fucking flustered. “Sorry, sorry, fine. I’m flirting with you. I can’t help it. But if I tie it myself, I’m probably going to show you or whoever is on the boardwalk my entire boob, so?—”
He moves across the deck toward me so quickly, I have to choke back a laugh before his hands grab the ties. I grab my hair, holding it up high so it doesn’t get caught in the ties. His fingers hold the ties loosely, and I look over my shoulder at him.
“Would getting a glimpse really be that bad ?” I ask with a smile. He rolls his eyes before moving to tie my bathing suit top, and I look ahead as his fingers brush gently against the back of my neck sending goose bumps over my skin.
“Sorry, I don’t mix with privileged tourists,” he declares as he tightens the loops and steps back.
Ahh, so this is the take we’re still going with. Got it.
“You’re kind of an ass, you know that?” I ask with a laugh, not actually offended.
He smiles back because for as long as I’ve known him, this has been our thing: I flirt, he gets annoyed, and he bites back.
“I’ll be sure to write that one in my diary. Really hurt my feelings, you know?”
“God, what I’d give to read your diary. Dear Diary, today my brother’s super hot ex-girlfriend came to live with me, but I’m secretly super into her, and it makes me so mad,” I say in a fake gruff voice.
His face goes red, and I wonder if I hit the nail directly on the head and if it would be worth his wrath to look through his room from some little black book with all of his darkest secrets. Once a nosy little sister, always a nosy little sister.
“You’re a pain in my ass.”
I smile as I gather up my things and make my way inside the house to get ready for the day.
“It’s a nice ass, though,” I say over my shoulder as he follows close behind, and it’s not a lie: Miles Miller has a nice ass, though when I smile at him, I don’t miss how he’s looking at my ass.
“Where are you going?” he asks as we move into the kitchen.
“I have thirty minutes before I have to head to work, and I need to eat breakfast.”
He glares at me as I reach into a cabinet and grab a colorful box of cereal and then a bowl before moving to the fridge for milk. I know he wants to make some kind of comment about the cereal not being a real breakfast, but he gets distracted.
“What is this?” he asks as I situate myself at the island, pouring my cereal.
“What’s what?” I ask, spooning cereal into my mouth and not bothering to look up. I know he’s holding the colorful piece of paper I pinned to the fridge this morning with the lone magnet on it and taking it in. When he doesn’t answer, I give in, looking up at him and seeing his brow furrowed as he stares at the list.
He really is kind of hot when he’s not being an uptight bore.
“Miles’s and Claire’s list of things to have fun?” he reads aloud.
“Oh, that’s Miles’s and Claire’s list of things to have fun.”
He looks up from inspecting the bright yellow piece of paper and glares at me. I smile in return.
“I can read. What is it?”
“It’s a list on paper written in colorful markers,” I say as if I’m writing the assisted data for a picture on the internet. He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, something I’ve noticed he does around me a lot.
“Yes. Got that. What is this list for ? Why did you make it?”
I tip my head at him and give him a pitying look like he’s too dumb to comprehend things. “I told you I was making it my mission for you to have more fun. That starts now.”
“Claire, this is,” he starts, shaking his head, but I cut him off.
“Humor me, Miller.”
He glares at me, and I glare back, and then, to my surprise, he softens, sighs, and starts reading the list aloud.
“Spend a day at the beach. Watch the sunrise. Go fishing.” He lifts his head and looks at me through squinted eyes. “I love fishing.”
“Great, I’ve never been. We can do it together.”
His eyes go a bit wide with that.
“We’re doing these together?”
I roll my eyes at him. “My name’s on it. I’m not going to just take your word for it, Miles. You’re kind of an unreliable narrator.”
He opens and closes his mouth a few times, and I take a bite out of my cereal in the meantime because soggy cereal is a crime against humanity.
“Do you know how to fish?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, but it sounds easy enough.”
His jaw goes tight, and I just know that irritates the fuck out of him.
Mission accomplished.
It really is too easy.
“Get ice cream?”
“A summer necessity.”
“Pet a hermit crab?” he asks, putting the paper on the counter and glaring at me, exasperation clear on his face.
I shrug. “Yup. They’re basically the mascot of the boardwalk.”
He hesitates before asking as if he isn’t sure he wants to know. “How does one pet a hermit crab?”
I look over to him and smile.
“With your finger, ideally. I hear earning their trust is very important.” I take another bite and watch him struggle with how to answer that. I added this one and a few others that I knew would send him into a tizzy because watching the blood creep up his neck is funny, and it does not disappoint.
“How does one earn a hermit crab’s trust?” he asks hesitantly, an eyebrow raised.
“I would imagine it’s different for every crab, just like people?”
He sighs like I’m testing his patience even though I know he’s secretly wildly entertained by me before he looks at me again, putting the list down and crossing his arms on his chest.
“What is this?” he says, tipping his chin toward the paper.
“God, I just told you. Is your garage well-ventilated? Because it’s a bit alarming how quickly you forget things.” I chew another bite of cereal, fighting a smile as he glares at me, unspeaking. “It’s a list of ways for you to have fun.”
He leans into his hands on the counter, and the muscles along his arms tense and ripple.
Despite it all, Miles Miller is hot .
I, unlike him, am not in complete and utter denial of the palpable tension between us, but fuck, watching his arms move like that? It makes that extraordinarily clear.
Paul hated when we came to see his family because according to him, his mom and brother don’t get him and always give him shit , (i.e: request he do the bare minimum and treat his family with respect). Anytime we were down here, we’d get into an argument about my flirting with his older brother. I never would have crossed any boundary, of course, but sometimes I felt guilty about it.
But now that there is no boyfriend to speak of, keeping me on the straight and narrow?
My mind has a bit of a life of its own, making up scenarios of summer flings and hot, sweaty nights.
I blame June, really. She’s the one that put the idea in my head.
“You know what I mean. What is it for?”
I snap myself out of my lust-filled haze to answer, beaming at him.
“To help you have fun,” I say slowly like he’s an idiot. He blinks at me, and I smile wider now. “All you do is work.”
“That’s not true. Last night I was home and chatted with you.”
“And you gave me a list of rules ,” I laugh.
“I have to make sure we’re on the same page so we can have a drama-free summer.”
I roll my eyes at that. “You said I couldn’t flirt.”
“That’s because you’re trouble and Paul’s ex-girlfriend.”
My heart skips a beat because the way my brain interprets that is he might be amenable to some kind of flirting if I weren’t his brother’s ex.
That I can work with. I can so work with that.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You know exactly what it has to do with.”
God, he so feels it, too.
“I don’t think I do,” I say instead of agreeing, crossing my arms on my chest and leaning back on the chair.
“It means I have to keep my distance from you no matter how much you test my patience.”
“Are you?” I put a hand to my chest and gasp. “Are you admitting there’s some killer sexual tension between us?”
“I have no idea how you got that out of that sentence.”
“Body language,” I say, then smile. “That and the beet red blush on your face as soon as I said it.”
“I’m not blushing,” he lies, the blush only going deeper.
“Ahh, yes, it must be a killer sunburn you got in the past, what, eight hours you were sleeping?”
He shakes his head and puts the list back on the fridge.
“Look, I gotta get to work. Just…don’t get into trouble, okay?”
“I’ll do my best. Can’t make any promises, of course. I love wreaking havoc at eight a.m. on a Monday.”
A small smile spreads on his lips.
“A smile? Did I just make Miles Miller smile?” His blush deepens, and even though he fights it, the smile spreads. I throw my hands into the air dramatically. “Call the press! Call the president! Miles Miller knows how to smile! He’s not a robot!”
“I know how to smile, Claire,” he says as he hefts a bag over his shoulder and makes his way out the door.
“Now that I’m in your life, of course you do. Have you met me?”
“For better or worse, Claire, I have.”
Honestly?
I’m going to call that interaction a success. Mission Make Miles Have Fun has commenced.