Page 15 of Tourist Trap

Because some petty part of me likes the idea of Paul’s ex living in this town he hated, with the brother he can’t stand, helping me buy back the house he wants to sell.

She shrugs and smiles, but beneath it, her normal, blissful confidence is gone. In its place is self-consciousness and doubt.

“I’ll go back to Evergreen Park, where my family is.” It’s a logical answer, even if she seems miserable over it. Regardless, I feel my jaw tighten with the knowledge as I run out of reasons to tell this woman not to live here.

She knows it, too.

“So does this mean you have a new roomie?” Claire asks, and I don’t miss how she makes it seem likeI’mthe one benefiting from this.

“You can really pay upfront?” She nods excitedly. “Can you follow the rules I put together?” She nods slightly less excitedly. “Can you promise not to make a huge fucking mess?”

“Pinky swear.” She puts a hand out, her pinky pointed toward me, the nails painted a buttery yellow that matches her car.

A pinky promise.

This is what I’m getting myself into: a woman who wants to secure a summer rental with a fuckingpinky promise.

Her smile continues to widen as I hook mine with hers and hold it there.

I look at her, then where her little yellow car is parked, then back to her. “I’m not helping you with your bags,” I say begrudgingly.

“Oh, of course not. I would never expect you to be a gentleman.” She smiles like she finds this wildly entertaining as she skips to her car, opening the trunk before hefting a duffel bag over her shoulder. She lifts out another suitcase before walking back up the stairs. “Do you mind at least holding the door for me?” she asks.

I glare at her, and she smiles wider as she makes her way in. I lock eyes on her trunk and see two more suitcases, one of the two almost as big as she is, before I groan and jog down the steps, grabbing both and making my way up the stairs again.

“Well, look at you. Youdohave manners.”

It’s then I know I’m in for the longest summer of my life.

SIX

CLAIRE

After Miles helps me bring my bags in and shows me to my room, I don’t see him again. Not after I unpack, not after I call June to tell her the news, of which she laughed maniacally, and not after I run to the store for a few essentials.

When I wake up early for my first day of work, his car is already out of the driveway, and a pang of guilt hits me as I realize he’s probably avoiding me.

Thankfully, my day is pretty busy, so I’m distracted enough that I can’t overthink things.

I arrive at the main lifeguard station, a raised, enclosed building on the sand with windows all around where everyone clocks in and where Helen keeps her office. She shows me around the small building, assigns me a cubby for my things, and has me fill out about a million papers.

After that, I’m officially a recreation department employee, and we spend the next six hours talking to what feels like everyone in town: the mayor, the first-aid crew, the fire chief, and a bunch of the people who work at or own the businesses on the boardwalk. Around four p.m., this season’s lifeguards come for orientation, and I’m introduced to each of them.

A group of teenage girls instantly latch on to me, chatting non-stop and asking me a million questions, though I don’t mind, since being from a small town myself, I get the excitement of someone new coming in. But my favorite is Jonah, a twelve-year-old junior lifeguard. There’s something about him that is so sweet and shy, and I instantly decided to take him under my wing this summer.

I’m exhausted but also excited for the prospect of the upcoming season when I finally make it back home to Miles’s house at almost six, only to find he’s still not home.

It’s why at seven p.m. that night, when he knocks on the doorframe of my room, I jump, not realizing he’d gotten back at all as I watched the ocean from the small deck attached to my room.

When I turn to look at him, he looks comfortable, leaning against the doorframe and making me wonder just how long he’s been there.

“Crap, you scared me,” I say, putting a hand to my chest.

“I was standing here for a while,” he says as if that absolves him from startling me. It doesn’t, instead, it confirms he’s been watching me for some time.

But why?

“Sorry, I was just taking in the view. It’s beautiful,” I say, looking back over my shoulder at the ocean. “Do you ever see dolphins from here?” He gives me a blank look and I continue rambling on. “I love them, and I always wanted to see them in real life, living their little dolphin lives in the ocean.”

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