Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jocelyn
“Red,” Roxy states as she holds up the tiniest bikini I’ve ever seen.
“Uh, there’s no way my ass is fitting in that or my boobs or any part of me,” I protest.
Roxy looks at it up close and shrugs. “I suppose we need something more PG since Ava will be there.”
Carly laughs. “Ava is oblivious to those things. Wear what you want.”
Piper holds up a crocheted-looking two-piece with a pretty linen cover-up. “Found mine.”
Roxy groans. “How is that possible? We just started looking.”
“I’m not much of a shopper. So, I was going to go to this cute art store that’s two doors down. Text me when you’re done and I’ll meet you for lunch,” she says with a sheepish grin.
“Have fun,” Carly says as she pulls out a one-piece. Piper waves and practically skips out of the store toward the art supply store we passed on our way in here. She’s adorable. I swear she sees the world as one giant watercolor painting.
“No,” Roxy and I say in unison as we look at the bathing suit Carly is holding.
“No? You don’t think. I think it’s cute,” she protests as she turns it to look again.
Roxy surveys the rack in front of her and pulls out a navy bikini. “How about this one?” she suggests.
“Ladies, it’s called stretch marks. No one wants to see them,” Carly laments with a sigh.
“What about Bray? He’s a doctor. He definitely wouldn’t care,” Roxy says.
Carly blushes. “Well, no one else is a doctor, and I’m sure they care.”
I’m about to tell her to stop being extra and just admit her crush on her bestie, but Cam comes into the store, drawing our attention toward the front.
“Let’s get this party started, beotches. What are we getting?” she asks as she saunters toward us and picks up one of those giant rimmed beach hats, plopping it on her head and looking into a nearby mirror.
“We’re just—” I start, wanting to continue our foray into Bray and Carly.
“Picking out the perfect bikini for Carly,” Roxy finishes. I glare at her, and she gives me a look that says we need to tread lightly. We’ll need to sidebar about how we get those two to admit their feelings.
“Yeah, what about this one?” I offer as I hold up a tankini, hoping it’s a little more suited to Carly’s modesty preference. It does have a nice plunging neckline, and Carly has great boobs.
“I’ll try it,” Carly says as she takes it from me.
“I want the sluttiest-looking bikini in here,” Cam announces. Roxy holds back up the little red bikini that might as well just be called red butt floss with a triangle nipple-cover top.
She grabs it from Roxy. “Nice. I want Fletcher drooling the whole week.” She pauses and looks back at us. “And…easy access is also a plus.”
Roxy laughs, and Carly blushes again. “But not until Ava goes to bed,” she says in her best matronly voice.
“OK, Mom,” Cam teases as she heads back to the dressing room.
“Note to self. Make sure I tell Hutch to put me in a room far away from Fletcher and Cam,” I muse out loud. Nothing is going to make me feel more single than hearing those two going at it all night.
“Perhaps there’s a room away from all the other rooms,” Carly agrees.
Roxy laughs. “Wow, is this like that movie…what’s it called where there’s an island with a couples’ side and a singles’ side?”
“Couples Retreat,” I state.
She nods.
“No, but I don’t need to be reminded of how single I am all week,” I joke.
She hip-bumps me. “Maybe you can find a hottie on the island.”
I laugh as I pull a few bikinis from the rack. “Maybe.”
I head back to the fitting rooms, all I can think about is one hottie, but unfortunately, he’s one of my friends, so that’s not happening.
I attempt not to think about Hutch as I try on bikinis, yet my brain keeps asking if he’d like each one.
In the end, I get two, including one that shows off every curve on my body with a sheer cover-up to go over it.
I try to tell myself it’s not for Hutch, it’s for me.
I try and fail because the crush I’ve buried deep down has grown so much that I’m not sure I can keep it tamped down much longer.
* * *
I walk toward the bus stop after leaving Cam’s Café.
I needed caffeine after our day of shopping.
I still have an outline to finish for my paper, which I think will be about my estranged dad and how that impacts me.
It’s cliché and an overdone topic, but it beats my mother the librarian led me to want to work in the book industry.
I’m making mental notes when out of the corner of my eye, I see a man that I swear is my dad.
He turns a corner, and I start hurrying in his direction. I make it to the end of the block and see him turn again at the next intersection.
“Dad!” I call out, but the man doesn’t look back; his dark, peppered hair is the last thing I see as he turns. It has to be him. I’m not crazy, am I?
I hurry again, practically running this time, and as I jog around the corner, I run straight into a giant wall of muscle. My face cranes up to see Hutch.
He grins down at me. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
I look around him and don’t see my dad. Fuck.
I take a moment to catch my breath, holding up a finger. Hutch guides me to a small bench outside an apartment building, and we sit.
“I…swear…I just saw…my dad,” I manage as I attempt to regulate my breathing.
He frowns and furrows his brows. “I thought your dad didn’t live around here?”
I’ve told Hutch a little about my family but not much. He just knows my parents are divorced, I don’t talk with my dad, and haven’t seen him in a long time, basically, the few things I tell most friends.
“I didn’t think so, but the past few weeks, I swear I keep seeing him…it’s like he’s a ghost or something,” I say, feeling like I sound crazier than I am.
“Could it just be a man who looks like him?” Hutch suggests. Why does his idea seem so…obvious and more likely than mine?
“Possibly,” I agree.
Hutch puts a hand on my shoulder. “You want it to be him, don’t you?”
I blink back tears that suddenly threaten for reasons I don’t understand. “Maybe,” I admit. Suddenly, I feel confused. Do I want it to be him?
He cups my face, and I feel my whole body lean toward him. Is he going to kiss me?
I start to close my eyes, but instead of leaning toward me, he just wipes a stray tear with his thumb before letting his hand drop. Fuck, stupid tears.
I sit up a little straighter. “Sorry, I’m an emotional mess. I…just swore it was him.”
“It’s OK to want to see him, Jocelyn. He’s your dad. Nothing is going to change that. Have you tried to find him, reach out to him?” Hutch asks.
I shake my head. My dumb pride keeps me from doing lots of things.
“Well, maybe we should try that. We could ask Kasen to help us look for him,” Hutch suggests.
“Do you think he’d do that?” I ask, feeling a little silly because I’ve never once thought to ask Kasen to help me find him.
But to be fair, I’ve also never once thought to look for him, until now.
Deep down, a part of me does want to reconnect with him, but another part of me wants to close the chapter on that relationship and move on because I’m afraid what will happen if I do see him.
“Of course, he would. That’s what friends are for, helping one another,” he says as if I’m being silly. And I suppose he’s right, that is what friends are for. I never ask my friends for anything, probably because I feel like I should be able to do it all on my own.
“Listen, I know you are a strong person, Jocelyn, and you can figure this mystery out all on your own, but why not have your friends help you? We all care about you. We can brainstorm while we’re on vacation, OK?” he offers with a warm smile.
“Really?” I ask, feeling my emotions creep up again.
“Really,” he promises.
“Thanks,” I reply as we stare at each other. I see some emotion flash across Hutch’s face, but it’s so quick that I can’t read what he’s thinking. My smile falters until Hutch recovers from whatever fleeting thought he had, and he too smiles before standing and holding out his hand.
“You heading home?” he asks as I take his hand and stand.
“Yep,” I reply, adjusting my backpack on my shoulder. Hutch reaches out and takes the strap of my bag, sliding it off my shoulder and placing it on his.
“I’ll take you home. I have to go run an errand,” he offers.
“You sure?” I ask as I glance up at him.
He nods. “Yep. Besides, no friend of mine is going to cart this piece of luggage on the bus,” he states as he adjusts my bag.
“It’s not that big,” I laugh.
“That’s what she said,” he teases.
I giggle and bump my hip against his thigh. “You’re ridiculous,” I say.
“Maybe, but that’s why we’re friends,” he retorts, and just like that, we’re back to our normal friendship banter. Maybe the vacation won’t be so weird after all? I can pretend I don’t have a massive crush on Hutch. Can’t I?