twelve
Second Summer
Ralph wasn’t any happier to see us that second summer than he was the first, but Laurel and I happily collected our keys from
him anyway. She blew a kiss over her shoulder as we walked out of the lobby to our waiting rental car.
“I’m so happy we’re together!” Laurel crowed out the window as we wound our way down to the cottages, her hair streaming out
the window. After her year in Seoul, the heavily documented exploits of which had gained her a hefty social media following,
she’d decided to move back to California. Her arrival had coincided with the trip, so after my flight from San Francisco yesterday,
we’d spent the night at her new, empty apartment in Silver Lake before we wound our way to the coast.
Davi was already there when we lugged our things inside. He remained lounging on the back deck in swim trunks and sunglasses,
beer in hand, until it was clear he wouldn’t have to help unpack.
“There’s our world traveler,” he said as Laurel launched herself at him, wrapping her toned arms around his neck. He hooked
an arm around my shoulders once she let him go and I patted him on the back.
“That’s it?” Laurel asked, looking between us. “We’re reunited for the first time in a year and you two look like you’re congratulating each other on your favorite sports team winning.”
“Sutton hates the Pirates,” Davi said. “And we saw each other two months ago.”
“Yeah,” I said. “We grabbed a quick lunch last time he was in town.” It was a joke. In reality, Davi had crashed on my couch
for his spring break—he was in law school in Illinois, which Laurel knew, but she still rolled her eyes.
“You two are so unsentimental,” she said.
We joined Davi on the back porch where he filled us in on what the life of a law student looked like after Laurel refused
to share any details of her trip abroad until everyone had arrived. (You can tell them again, Davi had said. I know, but then it won’t be as fresh, Laurel replied.)
The sun was starting to dip toward the horizon when we heard a car pulling up out front. Laurel bolted out of her seat, Davi
and I following behind as she raced through the house and out onto the front porch. Davi paused to grab another beer from
the fridge and pull on a T-shirt.
Laurel and Gabe were hugging in the driveway when I walked out onto the front porch. It was one of those that goes on for
a while, a lot of cooing on her part and rocking back and forth on his.
“I can’t believe it’s yoooou,” she practically sang as he swayed her. Gabe’s hair had grown out from its usual short crop
into something wilder than I think any of us ever expected from him in the last year. It stuck up in tufts now, had to be
routinely pushed back with a hand or, currently, his sunglasses.
“I can’t believe it’s you!” he said, easily matching Laurel’s enthusiasm. They were hugging in front of the Bronco. The sight of it sent something unexpected through me, like a soft brush of wings just roused from slumber in my stomach.
I didn’t have time to think about it. Gabe was rushing over to me before I could, thick arms coming around me and lifting
me off the porch in a bear hug that squeezed all the air out of me. I heard the car door slam as he spun me around before
setting me back on my feet.
“Hi,” I said as Gabe held me away from him. I beamed up at him, only part of my brain fixating on the sounds of a Laurel greeting
ensuing behind us.
“Can you believe we’re here?” Gabe asked, eyes sparkling, so far from the heartbroken person he was a year ago.
“Believe it?” came a voice from behind us, and his attention was drawn toward Davi, who had emerged from the house. “We’ve
only been planning it since we left last year. You and Laurel act like it’s some big surprise.”
Gabe scrubbed a hand over the top of my head before he started toward Davi and I could turn toward the car again, following
whatever it was that knotted in my stomach and tugged me in that direction.
Everett was looking down at Laurel, hands on her shoulders and smile wide as she said something to him. I caught snippets
of it—hang out all the time and show me the best spots, because they’d be living in the same city now, which Laurel had reminded me of last night as we ate takeout Chinese on the
floor of what would become her living room.
“You could move in with me, you know,” she’d said. “I’ve heard people in LA need chefs or whatever.”
“Seriously?” I said, widening my eyes and prompting a laugh out of her.
I speared a water chestnut, pulled my knees up to my chest. “Much as I’d love to be roomies again, things are good in San Francisco.
” They were, and Laurel knew this. I’d been on full time at the restaurant all year, and was taking July and August off to cook for private clients in the area.
I already had a whole week lined up with a family in Half Moon Bay.
“That’s okay,” Laurel sighed. “I’ll just have to hang out with all my other amazing friends.” I kicked her foot, scowling
jokingly. She nabbed a spring roll from the box between us, biting into it before saying, “Oh, and Everett, obviously.”
The rice I’d swallowed suddenly wasn’t going down so easily, turning into a dry mass in my throat. I took an enormous swig
of water to wash it down. “What about Everett?”
“He lives here, duh,” she said. “He’ll have to hang out with me.”
“Right,” I said. “Duh.”
I knew Everett lived in Los Angeles. He had a place in West Hollywood and, after a stint in production on a show that wasn’t
ultimately picked up, landed a gig as second assistant director on an indie movie one of his friends from film school was
working on. He still surfed. He’d had a birthday and he’d let his beard get a little longer and he’d trimmed it again and
he took care of his friend’s dog for a couple months while said friend was making a movie in Spain or somewhere and his eyes
were just as bright through a computer or phone screen, which was why, for the most part, I knew all of this. Our group chat
wasn’t enough for Laurel and so she’d scheduled monthly catchups for all of us.
Like today, I knew he’d picked Gabe up at the airport and that they drove down together.
I knew they’d be arriving in the Bronco, and that they’d be getting here around this time, and I knew that my eyes seemed to drift, almost of their own volition, to his little square every time we were on one of those calls, my mind casually wandering back to that kiss in the doorway.
Which was probably why, when his eyes lifted toward mine over Laurel’s head, I was right back at that party, drawn toward him by what I told myself was some primal reflex, whatever was in me urging me toward whatever was in him because we’d make great babies, or something scientific like that.
Laurel said something else before rushing back to the porch, joining Gabe and Davi, and leaving me to wander over to Everett
alone.
“Sutton,” he said.
“Everett.” There was a half second when I swore he smirked at me before he pulled me into a hug.
“Good to see you, Hale,” he said. I leaned away from him, returned his smug expression. He tugged at the ends of my hair lightly,
rubbed them between his fingers. “Gotten longer,” he said.
I moved out of his reach, pushed his hand away. “Crazy how hair does that when you don’t see someone for a year.”
Everett frowned. “Not if you cut it.”
“Yes, Everett, I did notice your haircut,” I said, which turned his mock pout into a grin. “What a roundabout way to tell
me you want me to say you look good.”
He did look good, in a way that couldn’t be wholly communicated over FaceTime. He looked a year postgrad in all the best ways:
jawline a little sharper, facial hair a little better kempt, arms a little more toned under the sleeves of his T-shirt, muscles
shifting as he reached into the open back window of the Bronco to grab his bag.
“Hey,” he said as we started toward the house.
The others had pushed inside, and I could hear them rustling around in the kitchen, the hiss of beer caps being twisted off and the crinkle of a bag of chips being opened.
I looked back at Everett, expectant. “The cottage is still available after we check out.”
I smirked. “Working for Expedia now?”
“Ralph’s been keeping me in the loop,” he said sarcastically. “He wants to make sure his favorite patrons keep returning.”
“That, or you throwing down your dad’s credit card last summer has something to do with it.”
He smiled at that, and I felt like I’d just won at some arcade game on the pier, tickets shooting out.
“Interested?” he asked.
I almost stumbled, heart leaping into my throat.
I was interested, and that, we’d established last summer, was the problem. I seemed to have a real issue keeping my proverbial
clothes on when it came to Everett. “You sure know how to proposition a girl, Bridges,” I finally replied, kicking the can of decision further down the road and taking another step toward the house.
“No proposition,” he replied, and when I looked at him, I could see he meant it, and was then startled to feel a small jolt
of disappointment. “Just cooking shows, pier food, two more days at the beach.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
“Good. Can’t watch Ina all alone.” I shoved him away as he laughed and it trickled down my esophagus and straight to my stomach
like I swallowed the sound.
“This one,” Laurel said, holding a silky tank top up in front of her. “This will be the top that tells everyone Laurel’s got a new life.”
“What’s the focus now?” I asked, checking the price tag on a pair of shorts. “Laurel does LA?”
“No, no more travel content or city checklists,” Laurel said.
She examined the top for a minute before shaking her head and hanging it back on the rack in the tiny boutique we were perusing.
Apparently not the choice for her newest path.
“You know the meditation retreat I went on?” I nodded, trailing her to another rack.
“It opened my mind, Sutton,” she gushed, the same thing she told me just after the retreat itself.
“So I’m thinking like, lifestyle and wellness?
In a totally normal way, of course.”
“Of course,” I echoed.
Laurel was pawing through a rack of bandanas. “You know, you could advertise yourself on socials,” she said.
“Could I.”
She turned to me, eyebrow raised at my tone. “It’s not as evil as you make it out to be, Sutton. And you should get in now.
There will be so much more noise in a few years to contend with.”
“I don’t think it’s evil,” I said. “I just don’t want to share my life online.”
“That’s the best part of it, though,” Laurel said. “You only share what you want to.”
“Maybe,” I told her. “I think I’m good with how things are going for now.”
“If you insist,” Laurel said. “But remember, I could run it for you.” She grins at the idea. “We’d have so much fun. And your
face wouldn’t even have to be in it. Though—” she reached over, holding a red, floral bandana up next to my face “—it’s such
a great face, we could totally market that.”
I knocked her hand away playfully. “We’re not marketing anything, thank you very much.”
“If you insist,” Laurel sighed. She held up her arms, laden with clothes. “I’m going to try this stuff on. You coming?”
“I think I’ll check on the guys next door,” I said. “Meet us when you’re done?”
Laurel waved me off and headed in the direction of the dressing rooms, but paused halfway there to call over her shoulder.
“No shenanigans!” Her voice echoed around the light wood space as she winked. “Remember the pact.”
I laughed, a little guiltily, before wandering over to the bar where Gabe, Davi, and Everett had ended up after we’d meandered
between shops for a couple hours. The front windows were all thrown open, letting the early summer heat in. Gabe and Davi
were playing shuffleboard against a far wall, Everett seated at a table near them.
“Not a shuffleboard man?” I asked as I dropped my lone bag on the table.
Everett grinned at me as I sat next to him, where we could both watch what looked like an increasingly competitive game.
“I lost to Gabe,” he said.
“He is the athlete among us,” I said.
Everett picked up his water glass. “Can I get you something?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I’m good. I just came over to see what debauchery you were getting up to while Laurel cleans out the boutique
next door.”
“A little different than last summer’s window shopping, huh?” Everett asked.
“For Laurel, at least,” I said. He was right—where last summer none of us had had any real money, this summer we had roughly
1 percent more, save for Laurel, who, after a year of not paying rent and scoring three brand deals while she was abroad,
was currently the richest among us.
“So,” Everett said, elbows leaned on the table in front of him as he turned his head to look at me. “How’s your year been, Hale?”
“You know how my year’s been,” I said. “We’ve caught up with everyone.”
“Yeah, but I’d like to hear it from you,” Everett said, bumping his elbow against mine. A tingle zipped up my arm from the
spot. Laurel’s voice echoed in my head. Remember the pact.
I hadn’t expected to feel this way around Everett. I’d spent my drive north to San Francisco last summer replaying our kiss,
the three months I’d lived in my childhood bedroom at Hank’s before I could find my own place dutifully redefining our relationship
in my head, and by Halloween, I was sure I was cured. I no longer wanted Everett Bridges in some insatiable way. But my body
had other ideas. His elbow touched mine, and I was weak at the knees.
It didn’t matter, though, I reminded myself. I could want him like that and not act on it.
“Let’s see,” I said. “I’m in a tiny place with a great kitchen—my bedroom is mostly bed, but I have a gas stove, so.” I shrugged
and Everett smiled, and the flash of his teeth had me pressing my knees together. “I love being back in the kitchen at Hank’s.
I’m taking on some private clients. Everything is going according to plan.”
The smile on Everett’s face turned into something smaller, softer. “I’m happy for you and your plans,” he said.
“What about you?” I asked.
“I’m not sure I’m as well organized as you,” Everett said. “My plan is more of a loose sketch.”
“I can help you,” I said. “I love coming up with a five-year plan.”
At this, Everett turned further toward me, knee pressing against mine under the table. “Stay with me on Sunday,” he said, and my stomach flipped over itself. His mouth twitched, eyes sparkling. “You can rip my plan apart.”
I felt my mouth open, could taste some sarcastic reply on the tip of my tongue, but nothing would come out. I was stuck like
that when Laurel’s voice echoed through the bar, her footsteps rapidly approaching.
Everett and I were still caught, staring at each other.
“I’ll think about it,” I said quickly, the same rote reply I’d given earlier. I grabbed his glass of water and took a long
drink.