Page 36 of Seas the Dating Coach

Noah’s jaw visibly loosens. “It’s fine.”

We’re quiet for a few punches before he adds, “I know what it’s like being at the receiving end of Brynn’s wrath. It isn’t an easy place to be.”

I stop. “How’d you get back on her good side?”

He twists his lips. “I wouldn’t say—

“Noah! My chickens cluck less than you do. Shut it!”

Noah surprises me by shaking his head at Geneva before sticking out his tongue. Geneva growls, low and animalistic, making the two women on the bag next to us shudder.

“Aren’t you worried that she’ll disembowel you?” I ask quietly once Geneva’s impaling gaze focuses elsewhere.

My first few weeks in class, the tough-as-steel gym owner put me through my paces, working me twice as hard until one night she simply nodded and treated me the same as everyone else.

Noah’s mouth tips at the corners. “Mom would never allow it.”

My clarifying question is cut off by Geneva calling out our strike patterns with the threat of weighted burpees upon anyone who utters a syllable until the end of class. Wisely, Noah and I seal our lips. But as soon as we’re dismissed, I’m asking my new friend if he’d join me for a beer at Bayside Table.

sixteen

Vivian

“There you are.” Amanda Ratchack’s saccharine-sweet voice slides beside me in Dotty’s compact freezer aisle.

I barely trap my ragged exhale. I’d wholly underestimated how many people would want to talk to me—someone theyneverengage in conversation with—after being out with Finn last night. The second I opened my shop this morning, folks rubber-necked while passing my glass door. Bolder citizens, like Carol Cook, barged right through.

When she asked if I was dating Finn, I almost stabbed myself with a needle. How absurd! There’s no world in which a man like Finn would be interested in me. I assured her that we’re not dating, sticking to my story that I was simply correcting my sister’s bad reconnaissance.

After Carol left, I expected Brynn to charge into my shop, wanting to talk. With Seabreeze Beans being the mecca of towngossip, it’d been shocking that my sister didn’t pull me out of bed before my alarm went off at nine. People certainly spoke to her more than they were stopping in my store.

But Brynn never came by, not even after the coffee shop closed. And after her nap, she silently stewed, making our dinner awkward. I get that my sister hates being wrong more than she loathes adjusting her rigid schedule, but the cold shoulder?

What are we, ten years old?

I couldn’t take the tension in our small apartment a second longer. That’s why I’m staring at Dotty’s limited frozen section, hoping ice cream will solve everything. It has an eight out of ten success rate, so I’m optimistic.

“I’m so glad I caught you,” Amanda says, every word dripping with insincerity. “I’m still waiting on my alterations. Or have you forgotten?” A sharp, fake laugh punctuates her sentence, and I have to fight the urge to flinch.

Every generation has what my aunt likes to calla duplicitous charmersince she saysa wolf in sheep’s clothingis uninspired. I’ve had the good fortune of my high school bully living abroad for the last few years, but Amanda popped into my shop a few weeks ago, announcing her return to Wilks Beach, with an armful of dresses that are too big now that she’s lost weight from living a healthier lifestyle in Sweden.

“I haven’t forgotten, but since you said ‘no hurry’ on the return time, I prioritized the prom dress clients,” I say, debating between getting The Tonight Dough or Phish Food. It’s been such a weird day I should get both.

Amanda’s overfilled lips pout before the corner of her mouth quirks in a devious smile. “Is it that time of year again? Remember our senior prom? So fun. I loved the masquerade theme and trying to figure out who was behind the mask. Of course, it was easy to pick you out with that dress.”

Amanda’s thinly veiled insult doesn’t land because my prom dress was incredible. While everyone else had worn store-bought dresses, I’d constructed a Victorian-inspired gown from midnight-blue velvet. Miss Wendy and I had worked on it for weeks after school. It’d been in the quiet moments of working on my mentor’s dining room table as sunlight shone through the large windows when she’d asked if I’d be interested in taking over her tailoring business.

Seeing she’s missed the mark, Amanda taps her cheek with her index finger. “Who did you go with again?”

My face stings as if I’d been slapped. Amanda knows full well that I played the unwilling third wheel to Brynn and Noah. I’d planned on staying home after Zach Hineman stood me up, but Brynn would have none of it. Instead of enjoying a romantic evening with her then-boyfriend, she’d insisted the three of us remain inseparable. The only thing that’d kept my twin from joining me at the hip had been my hoop skirt.

My heart clenches. Even with Brynn’s childish behavior tonight, she’s always looked after me. I snag a pint of Cherry Garcia—Brynn’s favorite—as a peace offering.

“No matter,” Amanda continues. “I wanted to ask you about your friend. I’ve seen him running since he moved here.”

“Atticus?” My stomach sinks to my exposed toes as I let the freezer door shut.

Brynn commenting on how she passes Atticus in the evenings was how I learned he was also a runner. Over the past year, I have occasionally—in a completely non-creepy way—snuck into the living room to watch his long, confident strides eat up the asphalt.

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