Chapter 11 Playlist Serotonin Boost
MINUTES AFTER ARRIVING AT Pearl’s for my shift, I die and go to heaven.
I’ve just walked in, and Myles is leaving the office.
As soon as he sees me, his brow furrows and he changes trajectory and heads right toward me.
Then everything happens in slow motion—when he’s three feet away, his arms open and he keeps coming, not stopping until his arms are wrapped around me and our torsos press together.
My brain must go on autopilot, because I don’t remember lifting my arms, but all of a sudden they’re curved around his body. His firm, delicious surfer’s body.
I—Amelia No-Yearbook-Superlative Madden—am hugging Myles Ford.
I don’t know exactly how tall he is, but my cheek hits just below his collarbone. His T-shirt is soft, smells like fresh laundry detergent, and I can feel his heartbeat against my skin. Tingles form at the top of my head and fan out, running everywhere from my elbows to my toes.
“How’s Margarine?” His voice rumbles through his chest.
“Better,” I murmur. “She might get to come home tonight.” I pull back, and we both drop our arms. I meet his blue gaze and hope he doesn’t notice my flushed skin. “She has diabetes.”
His brows lift. “Dogs can get that?”
“That’s exactly what I said.”
“But she’s gonna be okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, offering a small smile. “It’s really nice of you to ask.”
He looks at me like, Duh. “I thought about it the whole way here.”
My heart grows three sizes. “Really?” There’s no way he’ll miss my blush now. “I—thank you.”
Shelby comes bustling past us to put her things away, and we all head to the kitchen together. I have no time to bask in my Myles hug, because dinner at Pearl’s is a whole different ballgame. Customers are already filing in when we finish hearing about the specials, so we jump right in.
It’s all hands on deck with Myles, Anders, Shelby, and me all here—plus another woman I didn’t meet before today because she only works evenings.
Ned’s here too, appearing and disappearing to clear tables and bring fresh place settings before I even realize the customers have left. He’s freaking amazing at his job.
Don’t get me wrong—even though it’s busy, the cozy, good-times ambiance is still strong.
Customers are relaxed, the ocean is visible through the windows, and everyone leaves happy after experiencing one of the best culinary wonders of Massachusetts.
The new and improved music selection (playlist: inspired coastal wanderlust) is the perfect cherry on top.
By the end of the night, I’m pretty proud of myself.
Even if my Pearl’s shirt (yellow with a sea turtle) sports a questionable stain near my ribs and the writing in my notepad looks like it’s a foreign language, I didn’t mess up a single order.
My tables seemed pretty happy, and I even landed a few solid jokes with a fun table of older couples.
The only thing I didn’t handle well was a group of college-aged guys who took their flirting way past what I was comfortable with.
Myles must have overheard one of their comments, because when I went to the computer to tap in an order with my hands shaking, he showed up beside me, eyes hard and lips pressed together in a thin line.
He leaned his head down and said, tone low, “I’m taking over that table.”
I wanted to cry from embarrassment but also because it was so nice of him to offer to intervene.
Before I could even respond, Anders’s voice floated over my shoulder.
“No.” He towered behind us, glaring at the table of jerks laughing loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear. “I’m taking it.”
My heart did something funny then, reacting to these two guys unwilling to stand by and watch customers treat me like that.
Then Shelby sidled up and announced she’d “accidentally” spilled lemonade on one of them, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so taken care of.
I’m still thinking about it when my shift is over and I gather my belongings from the office, and I realize just how glad I am to be working here.
I never would have thought about applying if Kat hadn’t suggested it. This is just one of a long list of things I’d probably have missed out on over the years if she hadn’t instigated them.
Winning the sandcastle contest last year.
Playing hide-and-seek at the homecoming dance two years ago, which led to my first kiss.
Open-water swimming. I know, I seem like someone who wouldn’t have hesitated to do this on my own, being a total thalassophile and all. But my deep love for the ocean includes an appropriate level of respect for its dangers, too, and I’ve never been much of a risk-taker.
I frown now, because without Kat here, it will be up to me if I want to experience anything new this summer.
Is that exciting or does that kind of suck?
I’m leaning more toward sucks, because stepping out of my comfort zone sounds like a lot of work, and summers are supposed to be lazy and comfortable.
I toss my purse over my shoulder and tap my phone screen—no messages or missed calls—then turn just as Myles comes in.
“Hey,” he says. “Tonight was kind of crazy, huh?”
“Very. But it went by fast.” I can’t believe it’s already nine forty-five. It feels like I walked in the door one hour ago instead of five.
He grabs his keys, and we walk out together. “I can’t decide if I like it better that way or not. It’s kind of nice when the time flies by, but I also like when it’s calm and we have time to breathe, you know?”
“I know what you mean.”
I think the rush was good for tonight, though, because it kept my mind off Margarine.
I took a fifteen-minute break around seven and saw a text from my mom with a picture of Margie in her favorite bed at home.
It helped knowing the vet thought it was safe for her to come home, and that she was back where she could be more comfortable.
“I’m sorry about those guys,” Myles says. “They were assholes.”
I cringe remembering them. “You have nothing to apologize for. You’re the exact opposite of them.”
The tips of his ears turn pink, which proves my point. “Still,” he says. “Guys suck, sometimes.”
“You’re not wrong,” I allow. “But you’ve had your fair share of semi-aggressive flirtation directed your way too.”
He tips his head in my direction, as if acknowledging that truth. “Seems a little different, though, coming from dudes who can’t read the room. It was pretty obvious you weren’t interested.”
“I’m pretty sure they could read it and chose to ignore it,” I say dryly.
Myles makes a face. “Well. If we’re ever working together and it happens again, just say the word, and I’ll switch tables with you. I’ll be smooth about it. Say we messed up with the server assignment or something.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. Same goes for you, you know.” I flex my bicep, which is way smaller than his, and add, “I’ll defend your honor any day.”
We reach the side door, and Myles, smiling, holds it open with one hand, gesturing for me to go first. “Should we have a code word? Or a signal?”
I stop under the awning and stroke my chin. “How about ‘switch’?”
He shakes his head. “Too obvious. We gotta think outside the box.”
“Or,” I counter, “make it something that wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary at a restaurant. Maybe a phrase, like… ‘The soup is cold.’ ”
His lower lip juts out as he thinks. “ ‘The soup is cold.’ That’s not bad, as long as Chef Ray doesn’t overhear and think we’re insulting his cooking.”
“True, I’d hate to offend Chef Ray.” I pause and grin. “Basenji?”
Myles barks out a laugh. “Yes. One hundred percent, that’s the one.”
I flush with pleasure that he loves my suggestion, and I tilt my head down to check the time on my phone in hopes he won’t notice my red cheeks. “Well, I’d better get going,” I say. “See you later?”
“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll see you at work next week.”
I wave as I turn away from the parking lot and toward the road, and Myles calls out, “Where are you going?”
I glance at him over my shoulder. “Home?”
He frowns. “Are you walking?”
“Yeah?”
“But it’s dark.”
“I’ve walked home in the dark plenty of times.” Our town’s crime rate is incredibly low, but I also keep pepper spray in my bag just in case. “It’s perfectly safe.”
He’s still frowning at me. The glow of the streetlight spills across his blond hair and broad shoulders, highlighting the movement as he folds his arms across his chest.
The waves crash steadily in the distance. “It’s Kingfisher Cove,” I say, as if that’s enough.
“In the fall I’d agree with you, but in the summer we basically double in size. The tourists outnumber the locals.”
“You’re giving overprotective dad vibes right now.”
He shrugs, unbothered by that. “What if those guys from the restaurant are out and you run into them on your walk home? Would you still feel perfectly safe then?”
My expression falters. “Is this you offering me a ride?”
“Absolutely.”
I huff as if riding in a car with Myles Ford again is a hardship. “Fine.”
He nods, and I follow him to his Bronco, which has an orange surfboard strapped to the top. We settle in and he pulls onto the street.
“At least it’s not pouring this time,” Myles notes. “My towel’s still damp from this morning.”
“Surfing?” I guess.
“Yep.” He regards me for a second. “You’re not big into that, are you? I never see you out there.”
“I’m not a morning person.”
He laughs and nods. “Enough said.”
He reaches forward to flip the radio station to something else, and a little part of me dies because it was on Benson Boone’s newest song and I might actually give up my left boob if it meant I could see that man live in concert. I look out my window to hide my dismay.
“So, got any big plans tonight?” Myles asks.
I wish. “No, not tonight.”
Not any night, the cynical part of my brain reminds me.
“I heard there’s a party over behind the dunes. Where you and Kat came on her last night in town? I was planning to stop by on my way home. You should check it out.”
My first instinct is to politely decline, because I’ve never been to a party without Kat. But wasn’t I literally just thinking about how different things are this summer, and that I’m going to have to make some changes if I don’t want to stay inside my house for the next two months?
I muster up all the courage I have deep down somewhere—the same courage I use on tourists who I catch with glass bottles on my precious beach—and respond.
“Maybe I will. I reek of tartar sauce, so I’ll definitely have to change first.”
Myles chuckles. “I’m not going all the way to my house and coming back out here, so everyone’s gonna have to deal with the stench on me.”
He smells like he always does—which means very, very good—but I keep this to myself.
“Good thing it’s outside,” I joke instead.
“Ouch,” he says, grinning.
We chat easily until he drops me off.
He leans over as I’m getting out. “I hope I see you tonight.”
“I’ll ask my parents,” I promise, and float to the front door on a cloud.
As soon as I step inside, I temporarily put my elation aside and go in search of Margarine. I find her on her bed in the living room, her tail thumping when she sees me. My parents are on the couch, each with a book in their hands, and a record playing in the background.
“Hi, my sweet girl.” I crouch down and curl around her, burying my face in her fur. I stay there for a long moment, breathing her in and stroking her ears. “So she’s really okay?”
My mom nods. “She’ll need insulin shots every day,” she says.
“And we have to change her food. The vet recommended she lose a few pounds, too. So we’ll work out a schedule for daily walks.
I know you take her out quite a bit, but we need to make sure we’re consistent with it.
It all might take some getting used to, but the important thing is, it’s manageable. ”
I take Margie’s face in my hands, and she licks my cheek.
“You did the right thing by calling,” my dad says.
Part of me still feels bad that I didn’t notice anything off about her sooner, but I nod, trying to take their words to heart. Margarine’s going to be fine. I cuddle with her for a few more moments, then stand up.
“Myles said some friends are meeting up on the beach. Okay if I go?”
“Myles?” my dad asks, brows raised. “The Ford kid?”
“Yeah.” I try for a bored-sounding tone. “I told you guys he was working at Pearl’s this summer too, remember?”
My dad obviously doesn’t remember this, because he narrows his eyes with a “Hmm.”
“Who else will be there?” my mom asks.
“Not Kat, obviously,” I say, unable to hide my irritation.
If Kat were here and we said we were going to the beach, my parents wouldn’t have said a word about it.
It already sucks that my other half is missing.
Why are they making it worse when I might actually do something social for the first time this summer?
“Exactly,” my mom says, undeterred. “I didn’t have to worry when I knew you were with a friend we trusted.”
“We’re not saying you can’t go,” my dad adds. “We just want more information.”
I sigh. I have no idea who will be there besides Myles, but I ramble off a few names that I know my parents will find familiar. “I’ll be home by midnight,” I add for good measure.
After a wordless glance at my dad, my mom nods. “Okay. Just make sure you keep your phone with you.”
“I will,” I say, and give Margarine one more kiss before I head upstairs.
I strip out of my work clothes and don a fresh pair of cutoffs, my Cape Cod sweatshirt, and my Birkenstocks that are hanging on for dear life.
My hair’s a lost cause, but the wind on that part of the beach always whips it around anyway, so I thread it into a thick braid to keep it contained.
Minutes later I’m through the back door and bouncing down our back porch steps and into the sand.
It helps that the dunes are close to my house and I know the area like the back of my hand.
I know where to approach so I can get a good idea of who’s there without being seen, and if I end up standing around like an awkward loser, I can just come home.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pause to slide it out.
Seriously? Now Kat calls me?
Not when I was panicking about Margarine early this afternoon, or anytime in the hours after.
Not the multiple times when I’ve been lonely and missing her and feeling sorry for myself.
Instead, like she has some sixth sense of when I’m finally about to be with other people, she picks the absolute worst time to barge right back in.
I tap Ignore and put the phone back in my pocket just as I crest one of the rolling hills. Seagrass brushes my ankles as I regard the decent-sized gathering before me.
I take one deep breath. Then two.
Here goes nothing.