Page 1 of Under the Boardwalk

Prologue

Alina

Another day, another dollar tip. Yup, you heard that right, one dollar and all in quarters. I can't be too mad, though. My last table was a cute elderly couple in their eighties. I know they don't mean any harm, but earning a living on old-school tipping wages is really hard. I guess for this couple, two percent is the new twenty.

They were rather sweet, though. The older gentleman noticed his wife's hands shaking when she tried to cut up her sausage. He dropped his fork immediately, scooted around the table, and softly took her knife. He then cut her food up for her and continued with his meal. It was the sweetest gesture and made me forget about the minor tip.

Humming to myself, I return to clearing the table. I almost trip over my feet as I turn back toward the kitchen and notice Kas sitting at his usual table with his friends, devouring their usual meals. I gulp audibly as I scan the table for… yup, there he is. Internal sigh. I swear he gets me all googly-eyed every time I see him. Without thinking much about the change of course, I walk past their table, looking for any excuse to get closer to him. I can't bring them their food because Kas has already taken care of it. I look at their mugs and notice they could use a refill on their coffees.

Quickly walking behind the counter and dropping the tray off, I grab the coffeepot and make my way back to their table. Slowly refilling their cups, as always, they don't even know I’m here. I'm what other people would call a wallflower, but I don't consider that an insult. I don't have much to say; if I do, it usually comes out too quiet for people to hear. I easily just slide into the background, where I usually want to be. I hate feeling people stare at me; it causes me to panic, and I nearly pass out.

Even with how uncomfortable the thoughts are, though, there is one set of eyes I think I might give an arm and a leg to have on me. Riley. As I peek at him through my lashes, his head is buried in a book, but the conversation has him looking up. Still not in my direction. As I refill the last coffee, I listen to their conversation. It's not like they ever notice I’m here, anyway. The only one that sometimes notices is Kas, and that's because I work with him.

“Yeah! Well, that and my mom’s psychic told her so. Said it would be a summer to remember,” Beck says with more enthusiasm than I would have expected from him.

“A psychic? Since when does your mom go to a psychic? And since when do you believe in that shit, anyway?” Gray asks.

Beck shrugs. “Since I like the sound of it, and after how fucking hard the last two years have been at school, I could use some good news. So just let me have this one, yeah?”

“Yeah, but if your mom's psychic said it to her, wouldn’t that mean it would be her summer to rem… Hey!” Riley cuts off, and I see him scowl at Grayson. It almost makes me laugh, but I know that would cause all eyes to turn to me, and then I’d probably just fall to the floor. I start to walk away, not having any other reason to stay longer when their next words stop me.

“Well, then…” Gray says, raising one of the mugs on the table in salute. “To Beck’s mom’s psychic… and the summer of our lives.” They clink their glasses together, causing one of the refills to spill over onto the table. Quickly, I grab the rag from my apron and clean up the spill as the guys go on.

“Try to act a little more civilized and a little less barnyard animal guys, would ya?” Tessa, Gray’s sister and my fellow waitress, smirks as she walks by carrying a tray of food to one of her tables.

Usually, that would have at least brought a smile to my face. Instead, I'm too caught up in what Beck said about this being the summer of their lives. It nearly had me blanching. I've pined after Riley for so long, but he's so handsome and smart, of course, hot as Hades, but mainly he’s caring. I've tried talking to him multiple times while he sat at this very booth alone with one of his books, but the problem is, he doesn't even know I exist.

If this is the summer of their lives, I can't let him get away without taking a chance. I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I do. I have to do something crazy, something completely unlike me…

Something bold.

Chapter One

Alina

“Alright, honey, we’ll be back later tonight. The circle group doesn’t end until nine-thirty, so your dad and I will be alone after that,” my mom calls out from the counter of the thrift store they own. The meeting they go to every week is the same one, same time, same people, every single week since before I can remember, so I'm not sure why she always reminds me, but I just smile and wave goodbye. At least I’ll have the store to myself.

It's my day off from the diner, but Mom and Dad always need help. My brother is supposed to work full-time but only shows up when he wants money from the cash register. My parents have never been strict with either of us; they are peace-loving people who believe life is an adventure, one you should get to control fully. That's great and all once you learn how to be a respectable person within society. If you're just given free rein to do whatever you want, you end up like my brother—a grown, spoiled brat.

To me, he’s just a bully and always has been. For as long as I can remember, he’s made my life miserable for no reason, but he's smart and only does it when we're alone. I used to try to tell my parents, but all they would say was to show love against adversity. Then Jackson made my life a million times worse for tattling. From a young age, I learned to keep my mouth shut, blend into the background, and become as small as possible. Anything else only causes you pain.

I look at the store and realize I'm the only one here, alone and nearing closing time. No one should be coming in. I look at the back section of the store and make my way back that way. The small section in the back is almost private, surrounded by racks of dresses, scarves, and flowy fabric draping from the ceiling. There's also a full-length mirror wrapped with more scarves and vines falling from it. The total effect creates a peaceful hidden gem in the chaos that is the rest of my parent’s store.

Searching through the used dresses on the rack, I swear I swipe across every decade from current styles back to the fifties dresses, smiling at the memories these probably hold. I stop when I reach a red swing dress with a shorter-than-average skirt, sweetheart neckline, and the perfect amount of white piping around the edges of the halter-style straps to give it the most adorably retro look possible. It's absolutely stunning and definitely something I would never in a million years even think about wearing.

Pulling it from the rack, I step in front of the mirror and place it against my chest. I look at myself in the mirror. There is no way I could ever pull something eye-catching and memorable like this off, but I think I would at least look pretty. Maybe even pretty enough for Riley to finally notice me. I could fix my hair and apply some light makeup. I smile at myself, but it quickly falls from my face when I hear the voice behind me.

“Ohhh, you switching up your style now? Let me guess, from that dress, I would go with hooker or clown. Which is it?” Jackson, my brother, says from behind me. I meet his eyes in the mirror; all I see is hate. I don't know what I ever did to him, but I know he hates me more than anyone else.

“Since you're not answering, that must mean both. I think there's a big red nose at the counter. Let me grab it for you.” I hear his sinister laugh as he walks away. I know he's lying, and I know he's only going to the register to clean it out, still… his words hit their mark. I turn and return to the rack, placing the dress back where it belongs.

“Damn, he’s a dick. You're not going to listen to him, are you?” I hear an unfamiliar voice say from behind me. I gasp and spin, already wanting to run and hide. It's bad enough for me to hear what my brother has to say, but I really don't want anyone else witnessing my humiliation.

“U-Uhh, I'm sorry. Is there something I can help you with? Did you want to try on a dress?” I ask nervously. The small blonde in cutoff shorts with high-top Converse bounces over to me. I notice colorful tattoos all over her and try not to stare. She also has her nose and lip pierced with cute, small studs. She's absolutely gorgeous.

“Hell yeah, you can help me. Let's start with you trying on that bangin’ ass dress. Girl, it was made for you.” She smiles wide at me.

“Oh no, I can't do that. I could never pull something like that off,” I reply, ducking my head.

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