Page 9 of Tourist Trap

“I meant moreMiles Miller catching you when you fell off the bar then going skinny dipping and forcing him to come in with you.”

I turn to her with wide eyes, a finger lifted.

“I didnotforce him to come in with me, and you know that. I also was not skinny dipping.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and look back at the mirror. “I was in my underwear.”

“Claire,” she says, the same patient voice I’m sure she uses on the kids she works with, as I reach into my very full backseat for my purse.

“Nothing happened,” I say, even if it feels like a bit of a lie.

But it’s also the truth:nothing happened.

Nothing happened, and yet for some fucked reason, it’s all I’ve been able to think about since Grant helped me get Lainey and June home safe. His hands on me when he caught me, the way, according to Lainey, he panic-ran into the ocean because he was worried about me, the way he didn’t flinch when I held onto him in the water, the way Ifelthis eyes on my ass.

And it’s fucked because he’s my ex’s older brother. The one Paul repeatedly and near-incessantly complained about. Though, long before I evenmetPaul, any time we were at the same place, it was always Miles I would end up chatting with. The few times he was around after Paul and I got together, Miles would hang back with me while his brother was off getting drunk and into some kind of trouble.

At the time, it felt like I was bonding with my boyfriend’s brother, both of us knowing intimately what an idiot he could be. And before that, it felt like Miles spent time with us begrudgingly because he’d tag along with Grant.

With him also being the best friend to my best friend’s brother, we’ve been around each other more times than I can count in the six years I’ve been coming down to Seaside Point, and even though he always acted like I was a nuisance of a girl, always getting into trouble, he always said it with a hint of adoration.

Of brotherly acceptance.

Except for last night.

That was not brotherly in theleast.

And now old thoughts and feelings from before Paul love-bombed the fuck out of me are creeping out of the box I very carefully and meticulously shoved them in.

“Claire,” June says, but I grab my lipstick from my bag and start a touch-up, continuing my need to distract myself.

“I’m serious,” I start, snapping out of my memories. “Nothing happened. He was worried I was drunk and wanted to make sure I didn’t go all Jack inTitanic.”

The silence is deafening as I continue to fiddle with my lipstick, pretending to touch up the edges. Through it, June’s patient glare burns on me, though I don’t dare meet it.

And then, because June is my best friend and a bit of a loose cannon, she says, “You should fuck him.”

I’m glad I already pulled the lipstick away from my face, or else it would be smeared across my face.

“What?” I ask, turning to her aghast.

Her grin is near solar with how wide and bright it is. “You should fuck Miles. It would be pretty iconic.”

“June.” I laugh, putting the lipstick back into my bag. “You’re insane.”

“Why? You always had a thing for him, and until Paul came sniffing around, you two were always flirting back and forth.” She says Paul’s name like he’s some grand criminal instead of simply an idiot. “You guys used to be friends.”

I shake my head. “Miles and I were never friends; he is simply friends with your brother, which meant he was always justaroundwhen we all hung out. He couldn’t stand me even then, which is why I’d flirt with him in the first place. It’s as easy as that.”

I put the cap back on my lipstick and rub my lips together.

“Paul always gave you shit for being friends with his brother, and in the end, he was a dick. What better revenge would there be?”

I sigh and close my eyes because this is not the first time we’ve hadthisconversation. “I don’t want revenge on Paul. I just want to move on with my life.”

I met Paul Miller two summers ago, and he instantly swept me away with grand gestures and sweet words, always giving me his full attention. His sweetness started to fade over our first winter together, but when it returned with the warm weather, I chalked it up to some kind of seasonal depression.

He was an aspiring rockstar, so I agreed to follow him to California last December. But when he was the only one I knew out there, and I had zero distractions from how shitty our relationship was, I ended things and headed back home to Evergreen Park to lick my wounds.

Now I’m here, spending my summer in Seaside Point.

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