Chapter 5 Bright Lines
Bright Lines
By four fifteen on Monday, Brewster Bay had run out of parking spaces, clean hand towels at the front desk, and any remaining illusion that Rosewater's fireworks had ended when the smoke cleared.
The main deck gave off enough heat to cook on. I crossed it with a toolbox in one hand and a stack of cabin assignments in the other, stepped around two coils of string lights we hadn't installed yet, and made it back to the lodge before Bella could call my name a third time.
"I heard you the first two," I said.
"Then your response time is getting worse." Mom pushed her reading glasses higher and pointed toward the check-in line. "Keys. Smiles. Try to look like your summer isn't personally responsible for this."
"Humility," Sally said as she passed with a suitcase under each arm. "People love it in a local sex symbol."
"Please never say those words about your brother again."
"Gladly."
She kept moving toward the south cabins, and I slipped behind the desk beside Poppy.
That didn't help my response time.
She wore cutoff shorts and a fitted Brewster Bay tank, dark curls twisted into a loose ponytail that humidity had been dismantling one strand at a time.
A damp line darkened the fabric between her shoulder blades.
When she reached across the counter for a key envelope, her shirt lifted enough to show a strip of golden stomach and the crisp edge of a bikini tan line.
I'd known Poppy was gorgeous for years. My body still treated every reminder like breaking news.
"Cabin?" she asked without looking at me.
"What?"
She turned those brown eyes on me, sunshine warming into mischief. "The people standing in front of you need a cabin, Brew. Unless staring at my ass is one of the new guest services."
The guy across the desk laughed. His girlfriend did too.
"Premium package," I said. "Not included with your stay."
Poppy bumped her hip into mine and handed me their envelope. I gave them directions to Blue Heron while she passed cold water across the counter. They'd driven from Hartwell after seeing clips from the Fourth. So had the group behind them. And the four people after that.
The whole resort moved around the rush. Kit and Luna carried welcome packets toward the lakefront row, working together so easily that guests followed before either woman finished giving directions.
Vina had taken over the drink station on the deck, red hair tied high while she filled coolers and sent thirsty college guys toward the grill with one pointed finger.
Lucy and Sam were at the slips, securing a rental boat and sorting life jackets by size.
Bristol crossed the lobby with an updated dock map and quietly intercepted a guest headed toward the staff hall before he made it three steps.
Sally came back for another luggage run, muttering about people who packed for July like they were invading a small country.
Poppy stayed beside Bella and made the line move.
She didn't merely check people in. She remembered who needed the quieter cabin, who had asked about a sunset cruise, and which three women had requested adjoining porches. She made strangers feel expected. Bella had started handing her questions without even looking up.
Three women in Hartwell State shirts reached the desk next. One glanced at Poppy, looked at her phone, then looked back.
"Oh my God," she said. "You're the one from the Fourth clips."
Poppy's smile stayed bright. It arrived half a second late.
"I'm Poppy. Welcome to Brewster Bay. What's the reservation under?"
"Daniels. We got the cancellation this morning." The woman slid her ID across, still studying Poppy. "You're the social-media one, right? The sunshine Kappa?"
Her friend leaned closer. "One of Nash's Girls."
They didn't say it cruelly. That made it land cleaner.
Poppy's fingers pressed into the tablet case. She found their reservation, confirmed three nights, and explained the path to Pinecrest with the same warmth she'd given everyone else.
"Your posts sold us," the first woman said. "The dock sign, the fireworks, all those girls. It looked insane."
"I hope you have an amazing stay," Poppy said.
Sally swept in, took one look at the luggage, and sighed from somewhere deep in her soul. "Pinecrest? Follow me. I accept cash tips and public apologies."
The women laughed and went with her.
Poppy let out one breath through her nose. Then the smile came back for the next guest.
Bella hung up the lodge phone. "Miller cancellation is filled. Three nights, lakefront. They saw the Fourth reel and called from the highway."
"That makes four today," Poppy said.
"And two extensions through next weekend." Bella glanced over the top of her glasses at me. "Your summer is paying bills, Nash. Don't get vain about it."
"I haven't had time."
"Excellent. Stay busy."
I carried a box of key packets toward the deck. Vina met me in the doorway and took the box out of my hands long enough to kiss me.
Not a hidden kiss. Not a quick one either.
Her mouth settled over mine with easy confidence, cherry gloss and cold lemonade, one hand flat on my chest while three newly arrived guys forgot what they'd been saying. When she pulled back, her grin carried all of Sunday morning with it.
"Drink something, Smoke Show. You look cooked."
"You volunteering?"
"Maybe after my shift." Her nails skimmed my stomach through my shirt. "Right now Bella has me alphabetizing drink tickets, which is cruel when I look this good."
"A tragedy."
Vina kissed my jaw and reclaimed the box. "I'll survive."
Sam had come up from the dock with another armload of life jackets. He watched her walk away, then looked at me like I had personally broken mathematics.
"That just happens now?"
"What?"
"Valentine Ashby kisses you in the middle of a workday and then carries your stuff."
"Her stuff now. She took it."
"You're missing the point so hard it might be a medical condition."
He shook his head and headed for the pool house, more impressed than injured. Exactly where he belonged.
Poppy stood at the desk watching me. Her smile at Vina had been real. She loved seeing the women she loved happy, and Vina walking through Brewster Bay like my girlfriend made her happy.
Then a guy passing the lodge doors said to his friend, "That's the social-media one. The Kappa."
Poppy's hand flattened against the counter.
I went back inside.
She reached for the next key envelope, and I caught her hand before she could pick it up. Her skin was warm and slightly damp. I threaded our fingers together on top of the desk where the whole line could see.
"There you are, Sugar Pop."
Her face softened. "Took you long enough, Brew."
She leaned in and kissed me. Warm, quick, entirely hers. When she eased back, she kept my hand and greeted the next guest without releasing it.
"Reservation name?" she asked.
The woman gave it. Poppy typed one-handed.
I started to move when Bella called for help at the other end of the desk. Poppy held on for one extra beat, fingers closing hard enough to stop me.
Then she let go and put the sunshine back to work.
That extra beat of her grip stayed with me as I took Bella's stack and moved to the other end of the desk. Poppy greeted the next guest with the same sunshine. This time, I watched what it cost her to put it back on.
***
By quarter to six, the check-in line had thinned and the unfinished outdoor bar had become a lumber yard with stools.
Sam and I carried the last two boards from the maintenance shed.
Poppy stood at the worktable with a measuring tape, marking light-hook spacing while Kit and Luna sorted extension cords beside her.
I had just set my end down when Harper Quinn and Camille Hart came across the pool deck with Jessa Lane trailing behind them.
Harper had her phone out. Camille had the expression she used when she'd already considered every bad outcome and ranked them.
Poppy took one look at both women and slipped her hand into mine.
"Can we talk?" Harper asked.
"Sure." Poppy's thumb moved once over my knuckle. "Talk."
Sam read the air, picked up the empty water jug, and found somewhere else to be useful.
Harper turned her screen toward Poppy. The first screenshot came from a Delta Omega group chat.
The next carried Kappa Rho colors. After that came a lake forum thread with the phrase Nash's Girls sitting at the top in bold type, followed by enough speculation to keep a small town alive through winter.
Who was actually dating me?
Who was doing it for content?
Which sorority had won?
Whether Poppy was Kit's best friend, Luna's bridge, Brewster Bay's strategist, or some combination nobody could fit into one caption.
"It's spreading faster than the party clips," Harper said. "Delta's getting questions from alumni. Nobody's in trouble, but people are starting to tell the story for you."
Camille leaned one hip against the unfinished bar frame. "Kappa's hearing the same thing. Curiosity turns ugly when people decide silence means they can fill in anything they want."
Poppy studied the screen. Her hand stayed in mine.
"What's the clean answer?" she asked.
Harper glanced at Camille before answering. "Close friends. Two houses spending summer on the same lake. Rosewater threw a huge Fourth party, everybody got affectionate, and the cameras made it look more serious than it was."
"Summer fun," Camille said. "No structure to dissect. No permanent claim for people to attack. Nobody has to disclose anything they don't want public."
"And if we don't say that?" Poppy asked.
Camille tapped one nail against the bar frame.
"Then people keep assigning winners and losers.
Delta stole Kappa's summer. Kappa handed Luna to a Brewster.
Kit controls the women around Nash. You planned the whole thing for attention.
Pick a woman, and somebody has already written the version that makes her stupid or desperate. "