Chapter 19 Playlist It’s About Time
I CHECK ON FIONA before and after my lunch shift the next day—still no babies—and after I get home I settle on the back porch with Margarine at my feet. It’s hot, the waves are rolling in, and the soft breeze is like a cool balm across my skin.
I’m in my happy place.
My mood lifts even more when Myles texts me.
Myles: ready for tomorrow?
Me: Very.
Me: But I hope you don’t expect me to actually do anything… when it comes to boats I’m strictly a passenger princess.
Myles: hahaha
Myles: I can work with that
Myles: I’m just excited we get to hang out
Me: Me too
I’m grinning at my phone when Kat’s face pops up with an incoming call.
It’s a ridiculous selfie she took with my phone once, and I immediately saved it as her contact photo.
For a second I freeze, an icy chill flooding my veins, like somehow because she’s calling me, she can see who I’m texting.
When I regain my senses, I swipe my finger across to answer.
“Hey!” My voice is too loud and too chipper. I tone it way back. “What’s up?”
“Hey,” Kat returns. “I tried calling you on Monday.”
I don’t mention the many times she hasn’t answered my calls this summer. “Oh. Yeah, sorry. I was at Latte Love with Shelby. It was packed and super loud in there.”
“Latte Love?” Kat echoes. “We hate that place.”
I never hated it. But after the star player on our biggest rival’s tennis team started working there, Kat never wanted to go back. I didn’t mind because the iced coffee at Brown’s Bakery suited me just fine too.
“It’s actually really good,” I say. “That girl moved away for college. You should give it another chance.”
Kat makes a noncommittal noise, then says, “Anyway, what have you been up to? I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”
“Not much,” I say. I haven’t told her much about Gregory, because with each week that passed after she left, the further I felt from her.
And for obvious reasons I haven’t mentioned Myles.
The one time I mentioned Shelby to her, she changed the subject pretty quick…
I got the feeling she didn’t want to hear I’ve been having fun without her.
Omitting anything involving those three doesn’t leave much.
“Just working. Walking Margarine on the beach. Hanging out at the pier a little.”
“Sounds like a typical Amelia summer,” Kat says, sounding more upbeat.
“Yeah,” I laugh, though lately this summer has felt anything but typical. “What about you? How’s training?”
“Intense. Some days I swear my coach is trying to kill me.” She tells me about the drills he makes them run but that she’s usually the fastest. She pivots pretty quickly to the small group of friends she’s made there, and tells me about a wild party she went to last weekend where the cops showed up and she had to climb through a window to get away.
She asks for updates on all the high school drama that was going on when she left, and it’s mainly a long list of who’s still together and which couples are no more. It’s familiar and kind of nice, to be talking to her about all this stuff like we used to. Then the conversation turns to Summerfest.
“I can’t wait,” Kat says.
“Me either,” I say, and I actually mean it. Maybe seeing each other in person is what we need to remember how important we are to each other.
“I really can’t wait to see Myles. How’s the summer sun treating him this year?”
I swallow. “Actually, he won’t be there.
He’s going to California with his family to drop Matt off at college.
” I can’t begin to describe how relieved I felt when I learned he’d be out of town during Summerfest. I was starting to worry about how I’d act around Myles in front of Kat.
Would I have to be standoffish and pretend we don’t text every day?
Cause a scene to distract everyone if he mentioned how often we hang out at bonfire parties together?
“Well, damn,” she says. “How did you know that?”
“Oh, um. He told me at work.”
I realize that at some point I’ll have to face this situation I’m in.
But I also know that today, on the eve of my boating excursion with him, is not that day.
The next morning I stumble onto the back porch with a cup of my mom’s freshly brewed coffee in one hand. I loaded it with milk and sugar to make it drinkable, but I’d force it down black if I had to.
I need the caffeine.
My mom’s eyes bulge. “What are you doing up?” Even Margarine is looking at me like I have two heads.
I blink several times and rub one eye with my fist, willing my body to fully wake. “Going on boat. With the Fords?” I say. My brain cells that form complete sentences are still sound asleep, like I want to be.
“Ah. That’s right,” she says, and pats the cushion beside her. “Well, come watch the dog parade with me.”
I fold in beside her and take a sip of the steamy liquid. “The what?”
“It’s my favorite thing. Depending on how long I’m out here before I need to head in to work, I see at least a dozen dogs taking their humans for a walk along the beach. Big ones, little ones, hairy ones…”
The sarcastic side of my brain wants me to ask if she’s referring to the dogs or the humans, but the rest of me is too tired. I just sit there silent, wondering why I agreed to this. My bed is so comfortable, and it’s just a few steps awa—
“Morning, Jane!”
My thoughts are interrupted by Stan, our neighbor to the left. He’s standing at the railing of his porch, gray hair rustling in the breeze. His warm smile transforms into shock.
“Is that Amelia?” He makes a show of checking his wrist. “Did my watch stop? Is it actually lunchtime?”
It’s rude to flip off your kind, elderly neighbors, right? I restrain myself, but I don’t exactly smile. I hide behind my coffee mug.
My mom just laughs.
A few minutes later Mrs. Chen, the Kingfisher High principal, passes by on the beach with her corgi. My mom waves, and she waves back, then calls out, “Good morn—Amelia?” She pauses and just stares at us for a few seconds, looking between my mom and me. “It’s so early… Is something wrong?”
“All right,” I mutter, and push to my feet. That’s enough of that.
I make my mom promise to text me if the kittens arrive.
Then I go inside and stand at the kitchen counter for another few minutes, willing the caffeine to kick in.
At ten till nine I migrate toward the front porch, depositing my cup in the sink on the way.
I check my reflection in the hallway mirror before opening the front door.
Most of my swimsuits are more functional than stylish, but today I chose the white two-piece that Kat made me buy last summer. While I’m not overly blessed in the chest area, this swimsuit does good work at accentuating what I do have.
I adjust myself in the top and smooth a hand through my hair.
I know it’s gonna go up in the elastic around my wrist the second we hit the boat (maybe even earlier, depending on how windy the marina is).
I’m not one of those girls who make long hair blowing in the breeze sexy…
I’m more of the shaggy Highland cow variety.
Whatever. Guys want authenticity, right?
Authenticity and confidence, which, surprisingly, I think I’ll have today. I don’t know if it’s the cleavage or the absence of Kat beside me to compare myself to, but I’m feeling myself in a way I never have before.
Myles’s Bronco comes into view, and I toss on a T-shirt before I walk down to meet him at the street. I think I’m doing a pretty good job of arranging my face into something bright and cheery as I slide into the passenger seat.
But then he laughs. “Oh shit, I forgot you’re not a morning person.”
“I’m already fifty percent more chipper than I was ten minutes ago, so we’re on the way up.”
The wide grin remains on his face as he puts the car into drive.
Even in my half-comatose state, I can appreciate how hot he looks this morning.
He’s wearing bright red trunks, a white T-shirt, and sunglasses—the quintessential beach guy.
“I don’t get the feeling you do this very often.
Should I count myself lucky to see this side of you? ”
I tuck one leg underneath myself. “Yes. Summer Morning Amelia is like an endangered species rarely seen in the wild.”
“So are you a night owl, then?” Before I can answer, he blurts, “By the way, a group of owls is called a parliament. That’s one of my favorites.” I laugh, and he goes back to the subject at hand. “Do you like to stay up late?”
“Almost always. My bedroom window faces the ocean, and my favorite time of night is when I can look out my window and see the stars. Because the water’s so dark and there are no city lights in that direction, the stars go all the way to the water.”
“Wow,” he says thoughtfully. “I’ve been on the beach at night a lot, and I’ve never noticed that. I guess I just don’t pay attention to the sky.”
I cock a brow. “What do you pay attention to when you’re on the beach at night, Myles Ford? A girl, maybe?”
Whoa, morning Amelia’s also sort of bold. Who knew?
A flush creeps up his neck. “I, no… Well, sometimes? I mean…”
“Okay, ladies man,” I tease.
He scratches at the back of his head as he slows at a stop light. “I’m really not.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Seriously!” he insists. “I’m a lot shyer than people think I am.”
That, I actually believe. “And I’m not as shy as people think I am.”
He laughs. “I could see that.”
Our gazes catch, and something passes between us. An agreement that only a select few people in this world really see us, and it’s very possible we’ve become that for each other.
The light turns green, and he edges forward again, his attention reluctantly sliding away from me and back to the road. I swipe my thumb across my knee a few times, then ask, “So what’s your move, then? With those girls?”
“My move?”
“Yeah. You know, when you like someone. How do you let them know you’re into them?”
“I—” he starts, and bites his lip. “I don’t usually have to. The, um… girls usually tell me first.”
“Wow. Must be nice.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it must be nice to be so sure someone’s interested in you. Anytime I think someone maybe likes me, I’m constantly wondering if I just read the room wrong.”
I glance over and find Myles frowning, but in a thoughtful way.
Finally he says, “What would you want a guy to do? If he liked you?” His blue eyes slide over to meet mine, and my breath halts for a beat. “Would you want him to just… say it?”
I blink, and tuck my palms underneath my thighs to keep them still. Is he asking what I think he’s asking? My heart thrashes against my ribs.
“Yes,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’d want him to just tell me.”
A loaded silence stretches between us, like it’s a tangible thing I could reach out and touch. I’m so absorbed in looking at his face and wondering what he might say next, I nearly jump out of my skin when my phone chimes.
“Sorry,” I explain, unlocking the phone. “It’s my mom.” Why, why did she have to interrupt that moment?
But then I see the picture she sent, and I gasp.
“What?” Myles asks, alarmed.
“Fiona’s having her babies!”
“Who’s Fiona?”
“She’s my cat—well, not my cat, really… She’s a stray cat I found behind Triton, and now she’s in my garage because she was about to give birth, and it’s finally happening!” I enlarge the image, showing one tiny kitten with wet gray fur. “I can’t believe this. I literally just left.”
“How many did she have?”
“Looks like just one so far. But don’t worry, my mom promised to keep me updated.”
We come to a stop sign, and I hold up my phone so he can see.
“Aw,” he says. “It’s so tiny.”
“It is,” I agree, wishing they’d stay with us so I could cuddle them. But I know it’s best for Dr. Valentine to take care of them and find them good homes.
I have the urge to tell Gregory, but for some reason the thought of texting him with Myles just inches from me is unnerving. I decide I’ll do it later and put my phone away.
I wonder if Myles will go back to our conversation before we were interrupted, but he doesn’t. He flips on the radio and lets me take control, so I find my favorite nineties station.
By the time we reach the marina, I’ve convinced myself that maybe he wasn’t asking for any reason at all.