2. Summer
Summer
“That was so much fun,” Addie says, swinging her arms as we walk home from the beach. “I’ve missed swimming in the ocean.”
“So happy it’s warm again,” I say, tipping my head back and reveling in the warmth.
“I wasn’t sure whether your cheeks were red because you got too much sun or because Chase was there, looking all sexy and dripping wet.” She gives me a playful nudge.
My heart pitter-patters. It’s definitely because Chase was there, looking all sexy and dripping wet.
It was impossible not to stare at him as he peeled off his wetsuit and shook out his dark blond hair.
He’s a wet dream on legs. Sure, he’s only eighteen, but he’s all muscle.
Six foot three, tan skin, green eyes. And his hair always sits just right.
It’s not fair. No matter if he’s played a full game of football and is drenched in sweat or if he runs his hand through it so it’s sticking up in forty different directions—it’s always perfectly disheveled.
It should be illegal to be that attractive.
Addie clocked my crush on Chase as soon as he started at Ocean Grove. I’m adamant that we’re just friends.
I roll my eyes. “Too much sun, obviously.”
“Mmm.” She smirks. “Sure.”
“You’re one to talk. You couldn’t take your eyes off Steele.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“We have sex—were having sex,” she corrects. “We’re done now.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s how it is with us.” She kicks a pebble down the sidewalk. “Treat him mean, keep him keen, Sum.”
I bark a laugh. “You know you’re going to cave the next time he looks at you.”
“Shut up.” She fights a grin.
The bag hanging off my shoulder slips and I tug it back into place.
We walk in comfortable silence for a few minutes.
“So,” Addie starts. “Xavier’s party tomorrow night. Cody’s coming too.”
I groan. “Addie—”
“Before you say no—”
“No.”
“Will you let me give my elevator pitch? Jeez.”
I jerk back when her hand snakes out suddenly, her long, dainty fingers curling around my biceps. “Jesus, Addie!”
“Sorry.” Her brows pinch. She studies me for a beat but doesn’t push.
I release a deep breath. “You just caught me by surprise, is all.” I force my shoulders to relax. “Go on, then. Sell it to me.”
“Well …” She flicks her dark curls over her shoulder. “It’s the graduation party. Everyone’s going, so it’s basically mandatory.”
“That’s your big pitch?”
“Come on!” She stomps her foot. “I know you don’t like parties, but this is the last one before everyone leaves for college. Don’t you wanna have some fun before we all scatter?”
Despite the heat, a chill seizes my veins at the mention of college.
Everyone’s leaving Ocean Grove. Addie’s going to Harvard to study business. Chase and Steele are headed to UCLA. Cody was accepted to Berkeley to major in drama.
And I have no plans.
“I’m not going to college, Adds. You know that.”
Her face softens. “So? Plenty of people don’t go to college. You finished high school. Celebrate!”
“It’s not just about the party.” Addie falls into step beside me as I start walking again. “You’ll all be talking about your plans and dorms and majors. And I’ll just be standing around awkwardly with nothing to say.”
“Ugh,” she groans. “Your father is such a dick.”
You’ve got that right. He’s the worst. My grandma should have swallowed.
“Are you sure there isn’t another way? What about student loans?” she asks.
“I’m out of options. Even if I wanted to go to college, my grades aren’t good enough for a scholarship. And my father will never fill out the FAFSA forms. Believe me, I asked. He said it’s not worth the paper it’s printed on. And without his tax information, I can’t apply for financial aid.”
She scoffs. “That’s such bullshit … Hold up. Can’t you do it without him? You’re eighteen.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I step around a fallen trash can. “The state says I’m legally dependent until I’m twenty-four. I need his signature.” I shrug. “He won’t give it to me.”
Even if he did sign off to help me, he’d hold it over my head forever.
I’d never be rid of him. I won’t do it. I won’t be at his mercy.
Besides, I wouldn’t even know what to major in.
Music’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at, and that’s not exactly a stable career path—spending lunch breaks in the school recording booth, sending demos off to every major label I could find and hearing nothing back is proof enough of that.
So are the Instagram and YouTube accounts I started. I only have sixty-something followers, and I’ve barely gained any new subscribers in the last month.
The universe has been pretty clear about where I stand.
I’ll figure it out. I have time.
“So? Forge it.”
My brows shoot up. “No way. That’s illegal!”
“Fuck.” She exhales. “This is so unfair.”
“It’s fine. I’ll just keep working at the diner until I have enough to get out of here on my own terms.” I shiver. “I’m not staying in Ocean Grove forever—believe me.”
“Look at it as if you’re taking a gap year,” she suggests.
“Yeah.” I give her a lopsided smile. “I can do that.”
“Now, back to the party—”
“Oh my God.”
“Chase will be there.” She pumps her eyebrows.
I stare at her. “So will all the other jocks.”
“Yes. But they’re not your favorite.” She says the word favorite like she’s dangling a carrot. I won’t bite.
“Chase has his own friends. He definitely doesn’t need me there. And you’ll be off with Steele—”
“Will not—”
“So I don’t really see the point.”
“Fun is the point.”
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
“I do.” She bats her eyelashes, throwing in a fake sniffle for good measure. “Pleeeease. For me?”
I exhale sharply through my nose. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m amazing.” She presses her palms together like she’s praying. “Is that a yes?”
I grunt. “Fine.”
“Yay!” She claps. “I’ll never ask you for anything again, I promise.”
I shoot her an incredulous look. “The only thing full of more shit is a sewer.”
“It’s going to be so much fun!” She beams, looping her arm through mine. “Come over to get ready beforehand?” We reach the corner of her street, and she pulls me into a hug.
I hold her tight. “Sure. I get off work at five thirty. How’s six?”
“Perfect,” she replies, stepping back. She gives my hand three squeezes. We’re okay. “Love you, Sum.”
I squeeze right back. “Love you too.”
“Bye!” She continues left. I wave and head right.
The sky is awash in a brilliant orange glow by the time I trudge past Mom’s old pride and joy, her powder blue 1972 Volkswagen Beetle, and head inside.
“Dad?”
I kick off my shoes, waiting for a response. None.
Good. I like it when he’s gone. I don’t have to make myself small or walk on eggshells inside my own home.
My eye catches on the cross hung above the front door as I slip off my flip-flops. I roll my eyes.
Salt and sand cling to my skin and I head upstairs to shower, rinsing the ocean from my hair before wrapping myself in my favorite sweatpants and hoodie.
My stomach grumbles, so I hurry downstairs to start on dinner.
Empty bourbon and vodka bottles are scattered across the kitchen table.
That solves that mystery—he must have gone out with Uncle Phil.
Phil lives in the next town over, Orange Bay, so they spend a lot of their free time together, usually drowning themselves in alcohol or camping and fishing.
The weekends they go camping are my favorite. Now that we’re coming out of the cooler weather, he’ll be gone more.
I gather the bottles and toss them in the recycling, wincing when they clink together.
My shoulders slump when I see what’s left in the refrigerator. One carrot, a stick of celery, and a bottle of milk. I check the freezer and find a packet of ground beef.
Spaghetti, it is.
I throw together the simple pasta dish, ensuring there’s plenty of leftovers for my father, and enjoy the peace of eating alone.
My cell vibrates next to my plate as a text comes in from my manager. I swipe a finger over the screen to read the message.
Candice: Can you start at 6 a.m. tomorrow instead of 10? Holly’s gone home sick and I doubt she’ll be back in the morning.
Holly’s always sick.
I smile to myself, grateful for the extra hours. I’ll be tired for the party, but I’ll manage. I want the money—need the money. Candice knows about my plan to get out of Ocean Grove and gave into my begging for extra hours.
Every excuse to get out of this house.
I tap out a quick response.
Me: Sure. See you at 6.
Her reply is instant.
Candice: Lifesaver.
I scrape Dad’s portion into a Tupperware and rinse the dishes before stacking them in the rack to dry. I figure he won’t be home for hours, so I grab Mom’s old guitar, my notebook and pen, then head outside.
The wooden porch creaks as I settle onto the rickety bench, crossing my legs. I flip through pages of scrawled lyrics and half-finished thoughts. This book is filled with lines I’ve scribbled down whenever inspiration strikes.
The last page is a total mess, full of scratched-out bridges, rewritten verses, and stacks of notes. I make more changes.
The sun sinks lower, blanketing the street with orange as the air cools around me. My fingers hover, then press down on the strings. I lose myself, plucking and sliding up the neck, strumming until the melody mirrors my imagination.
I hum under my breath to ensure the rhythm and syllables land right.
For a little while, the rest of the world evaporates—college, the diner, money, friends leaving. It all falls away as I disappear into the music.
This is the exact spot I met Chase.
I still remember the first words he ever spoke to me.
“So, the girl in the window sings.”
I jolt so hard at the sound of his voice that my fingers slip, the music dying mid-note.
Shit. I didn’t think anyone was listening.
I turn statue still. I can’t move. I’m trying, but my muscles won’t listen to my brain. Slowly, I flick my eyes up, latching onto his, and my breath hitches.
Tall. Broad. Dark blond hair falling across his forehead.
I’d noticed he was good-looking. Now that I’m seeing him up close, I know I got it all wrong. He’s devastatingly gorgeous.