Page 3 of Tourist Trap

“Exactly. So I’ll make it work.” Silence fills the garage, and I turn to go back to the job I was working on before, but as is his way, Grant breaks it.

“But back to the important stuff, you should consider getting laid soon. You’re too young to let your dick shrivel up and fall off from misuse.” I cringe at the visual and open my mouth to argue with him, but his phone rings. He lifts his cell and looks at the screen before moving to answer it. “It’s June,” he says, referencing his baby sister.

June is six years younger than him, and considering both of their parents are shit, he basically raised her. Because of that, if June calls, he’s answering.

“Hey, June bug, how’s it—” Grant pauses his greeting, his brow furrowing in confusion before he sighs. “She’s drunk?” Another pause before he adds, “Lainey’s there too? Fuck. Yeah, okay. I’ll be there in a few. I’m over at Miles’s garage.”

He puts his phone down, then looks to the concrete shop ceiling, sending up a prayer of patience, I’ve seen more times than I can count, before looking at me.

“June’s over at Surf,” he says, mentioning the tourist trap of a bar next to my house on the boardwalk. I grimace. During the day, it’s a luxury beach club where sunbathers can have an all-inclusive day at the shore, and when the sun goes down, it turns into a nightclub I avoid at all costs.

“Surf? Why are they there?”

“No idea. Who knows why they do half the shit they do. Deck called me on June’s phone. Apparently, they decided to be tourists and get drunk. Lainey’s with her, and they’re causing a scene.”

Decker Elliot is two years younger than Grant and me and is good friends with June. They weren’t friends in high school, but since he’s the gym teacher at the elementary school where June teaches, they inevitably became friends.

“A scene?”

Grant shrugs but stands to leave. “He didn’t really give me many details about what that meant, partially because he was laughing the entire time he was on the phone, and there was hollering in the background. But June making a scene is never a good thing.” This is definitely true and has been since she was a kid. “I have to go pick them up.”

He steps toward his car, and I grab a rag to clean off my hands before moving to follow. I could use an entertaining distraction in the form of Grant having to deal with his baby sister begrudgingly. Again.

“Oh, I’m coming,” I say when he looks at me with confusion. “I’d rather focus on your shitstorm than mine.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue as we slide into his car then drive across town toward Surf. When we park behind my house, we make our way to the hideous building next door. It was built nearly four years ago now, after Baker Inc. purchased five lots on the boardwalk, tore down each one, and built this monstrosity in its place.

It’s the bane of my existence: the noise, the eyesore, the litter, the damn principle of the matter. It doesn’t help that the owner’s son, Brad, has been bugging me for years to sell my property to them, despite my continuously and adamantly saying no every single time.

But I can’t think of that when we walk to the entrance, nodding at Mike, an old friend from high school, before walking into the chaos. The lights are dim, though strobe lights flash on and off, lighting up different sections of the nightclub as music I faintly recognize bumps through the speakers at a near-deafening level. The song changes, and there’s a loud, excited shout before the crowd at the center of the room shifts.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I distantly hear Grant rumble, irritation evident in the words as he walks with a mission toward the bar in the center of the room, dodging tables and people dancing.

As we move, the crowd grows thicker, mostly men cheering, hooting, and hollering at two forms on top of the bar. One I recognize to be June, with the dark hair her brother also has, pulled into a ponytail and a glass in her hand.

But that’s not what has me hesitating as Grant moves closer, calling his sister’s name as he does.

It’s the woman up there with her, long blonde curls tumbling down her back, a wide smile on her lips as her head tips to the ceiling as she scream-sings the words of the song out loud, and my heart stutters just a bit before ramping up once again.

Claire Donovan, my brother’s girlfriend, is standing on top of the bar, dancing. Claire, who I have diligently avoided anytime she was in Seaside Point for the past two years because just seeing her reminds me of how fucked my relationship with my brother is.

I don’t need to look around the room to know everyone is watching her. There’s something so fascinating about her, the way she grabs the attention of everyone in the room, drawing them in instantly and forcing everyone in the vicinity’s eyes to her, and I’m not immune to her magic.

I never have been. While I’m watching her, I spot Brad Baker, the heir to Baker Inc. and the bane of my existence, standing at the bar at her feet. You’d think the owner’s son would be trying to get the drunk girl off the bar top, but instead, he’s smiling, trying to talk to her and get her attention. I’m only one person away when his hand reaches up, brushing against her bare calf, seemingly trying to get her attention. It works. Her head snaps down, a small frown forming on her lips as she shifts her leg away. The sudden movement throws off her center of gravity, and her body shifts, making her lose her balance. As she teeters, I push someone aside and lunge toward the bar as she falls.

Right into my arms.

Without a lick of the panic pounding in my chest, she looks up at me with those wide blue eyes I’ve been trying to hate and smiles. The womansmiles, and looking back, I realize that was the moment where I became completely and truly fucked, because that smile stops my irritation in its tracks, intrigue and an unnamed warmth taking its place.

“Hey, Miles. Long time no see.”

THREE

MILES

We settle the girls’ tab quickly, after Grant convinces his sister to climb off the bar rather than fall like her friend, before ushering them out of the bar. June and Lainey, stumble along though Claire seems pretty steady on her feet despite falling off a bar top minutes earlier.

“What were you thinking?” I ask as we step into the night air. It’s a warmer night than usual for early May, but the breeze off the ocean is still cool. Without my conscious permission, my mind wonders if she’s cold in the tiny tank top and shorts she’s wearing.

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