Page 61 of Tourist Trap

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Does tomorrow night work?”

His arms cross on his chest, and he leans back. That’s when I notice the khaki shorts and polo tucked into it. Looking at the other employees, I note that this isnotsome kind of uniform he’s forced into, but instead something he chose intentionally.

I take a deep breath, telling myself that I can get over that.

Probably.

“You with Miles?” he asks, something I find strange, but he probably remembers Miles pulling me away from him last week.

“No. I’m not,” I say simply.

“Well, then, yeah. Definitely. How does tomorrow at seven work?”

I smile wide. “That would be perfect.”

“We’ll have our date here, at Surf.”

My brow furrows, but then again, I’ve been on enough shitty dates to not care about adding one to my tally to best Miles.

“That works.”

“Perfect. Here, give me your number,” he says, and I call out the digits before shaking his hand like this is some kind of business transaction. Finally, I turn back toward my friends with a thumbs-up and a smile.

Despite winning his little dare, the look on Miles’s face doesn’t make me feel like I won anything.

TWENTY-ONE

CLAIRE

The next morning I’m sitting at the kitchen island eating my breakfast when I’m surprised to see Miles come down, making it the first time I’ve seen him at home since our kiss.

“I won’t be home until late,” I say, taking a bite of my cereal when he doesn’t say a word to me.

“What?” he asks, confused as he pours coffee into a mug and turns toward me.

I keep my eyes on the bowl as I take another bite. I wait until I chew and swallow, weighing my words before I respond.

“I won’t be home until late tonight. I have that date. Remember?” I don’t see it since I’m avoiding looking at him, but I canfeelMiles’s body go rigid at my words.

“What?”

“I have that date. The one I made yesterday? We’re going to Surf.” Finally, I look up at him and see his jaw is clenched.

“The fuck you are.”

I fight a small smile as I take another bite of fruity cereal, chew, and swallow.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

That’s when I start to get annoyed. “I didn’t realize I had to run my social life past you,” I say. “Plus, you’re the one who told me to go ask him.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he says.

I give him a smile as I stand, moving toward the sink to dump out my milk and rinse the bowl. “You should know by now that I always follow through with my threats.”

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