Page 9 of Dear Adam
“Look! Our Uber.” A luxury black sedan slides up to the curb, and I practically throw myself inside to avoid answering. He buckles up next to me and rubs the leather interior with his palms.
“Wow,” he muses, eyeing the fancy buttons and sleek interior of the foreign car. “This is swanky. You know you don’t have to go all out just for me though, right? Don’t worry about upgrading our Ubers on my account.”
“I do what I can,” I say, peeking out the windows. A white, older model Corolla slips into our spot and I watch in horror as a couple meanders from the bar in search of what I can only presume is the luxury, black sedan Uber they ordered. Sorry about the Corolla, folks.
“What now?” Adam asks, already mentally preparing for our next stop.
“Bed, my friend,” I say, buckling myself in. Disappointment briefly crosses Adam’s face but he gets over it quickly by muttering he doesn’t feel well and leaning his head against the window. As his soft snores fill the space around us, I can’t help but to reminisce on memories of Adam and I in high school. Between soccer, surfing at the beach on weekends, and hanging out at each other’s houses every minute in between, we were practically inseparable. Along with that came plenty of time with his sister, too. It would’ve been hard for menotto develop a crush on the tan, leggy beauty back then, but now? I was a goner. I could only wonder if the glimpse we shared of each other tonight had the same kind of effect on her that it did on me.
Chapter four
Aly
Pretzel’shot,turkeyandrice kibble breath, wakes me from an admittedly strange yet glorious dream.
Levi had just saved me from a twelve-hour day at Bloomie’s. He was shirtless, and somewhere in the mix was an endless supply of ice cream. Dreaming about food is normal for me, considering ice cream makes its way into every consciousandsubconscious thought, but dreaming about Levi…what in the world? Was that man really so gorgeous he managed to sneak into my dreams too? I should not be having dreams about someone who lives across the country…unless they’re Harry Styles.
The fact that I dream about food so much is actually kind of concerning, but considering all my free time is spent working at Bloomie’s and remodeling my cottage, I’m usually left heating up a subpar Lean Cuisine in the evenings. And okay, yes, it’s the kid’s version because the adult ones don’t come with those decadent ooey-gooey brownies.
I blink furiously to erase the sleep from my eyes and come face to face with Pretzel, who’s little head is dangerously close to my very open, very dry mouth. I snap it shut and throw my arm over my eyes, groaning. Pretzel, ever persistent, knocks it off with her cold, wet nose and whines. I mimic her, and she tilts her head to the side, ears perked up. It’s almost adorable until I remember it’s Sunday, mine and Emma’s one day off from Bloomie’s. From the looks of the sun barely peeking through my windows, it’s only around six thirty in the morning.
I throw the covers off and trail behind Pretzel to the front door. “No funny business,” I say as sternly as I can but my morning voice comes out a little raspy.
While Pretzel is doing her business, Mr. Barnes clears his throat, the noise floating across the road from his porch to mine. And while I do realize I’m wearing the pajama set Emma gifted me with a million Harry Styles faces plastered all over the matching tank and shorts, I also know Mr. Barnes can mind his own. I throw a pointed look his way as Pretzel and I go back inside.
I check my phone for any missed texts or calls from Adam. There’s one from 11:24 p.m. It must have come in when I was fast asleep, and when I open it, the most gorgeous sunset photo fills my screen. Levi must’ve captured it because in the bottom left corner, Adam is smiling at the camera. He’s standing on a cliff, and the sky behind him is a mixture of dark purples, oranges, and reds. Palm trees sway in the distance and there’s even a seagull flying behind him.
What really catches my attention though, is howhappyAdam looks.The photo must’ve been taken as Adam was laughing, because he’s looking at the camera, and his mouth is still slightly ajar. His wide smile meets his sparkling eyes, which crinkle at the corners. I don’t normally get to see this side of Adam now that he works for our dad. Time away from the boat business and family must be good for him. I type out,Cali looks good on you,and hit send, knowing with the three-hour time difference he’s more than likely still asleep.
Emma and I have plans to go to Folly Beach today, but I know she won’t be up until at least eleven-thirty. The books I unpacked and stacked neatly on the built-ins in the living room are calling my name, but so are the boxes of tile piled in the corner of the kitchen for the backsplash. The bowl of sea glass I’ve found throughout the years of living on the coast is sitting on the counter by the tile and I’ll admit, I am a little excited to see how I can mix the two to make the backsplash unique. I saw something similar on Grant Dawes’s Instagram—who is an amazing contractor from Georgia—a few weeks ago and I saved it to my highlights. I make a cup of coffee, pull the picture up, turn on my favorite Swiftie playlist, and get to work.
Five hours later, I’m covered in mortar but my backsplash is complete. Different shades of blues and whites mix together in an abstract pattern, and now I’m itching to take the doors off the oak cabinets and paint them a seafoam green to match. I’ve got the last door halfway off when my phone rings and Emma’s face fills the screen.
“Good afternoon, sleeping beauty,” I answer. I peek around the living room to check on Pretzel. She’s been gnawing on a bone I bought her from the grocery store yesterday. She’s still happily chewing and wagging her tail.
Emma yawns into the phone. “Yeah, yeah. Are you ready?”
“Considering I’ve been up since six-thirty this morning and have already managed to tile the backsplash in the kitchen and take the doors off the cabinets to sand and paint, yeah. I’m ready.” I manage to sound like I’ve been laboring away all morning, which don’t get me wrong, I have. But really, the kitchen isn’t that big. There’s only eight cabinets and a few feet worth of backsplash that needed to be done.
“Remind me to buy the coffee you drink next time I go shopping,” Emma rasps, yawning again.
“Pretzel actually woke me up,” I admit. At the sound of her name, her tail thumps against the hardwood floor. “I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes?”
“See you then,” Emma says and hangs up.
I look at Pretzel, who is sitting pretty at my feet. “You ready to go to the beach?”
I swear she smiles in response.
Pretzel has her head out the back window and Emma’s in the passenger seat. Sunglasses are pushed atop her hair, which is dip-dyed purple at the ends, and she’s wearing her favorite unicorn bikini and denim cut offs. She’s staring down at her phone and squealing.
“What?” I cry, pulling into a parking spot.
We’ve driven to the far end of the island where the beach is a little less crowded. Don’t get me wrong, I love the beach right by the pier and the ability to walk across the street and eat as much Taco Boy as my heart desires, but having Pretzel makes me a little nervous to be around so many people.
“Have you seen Adam’s Snapchat stories?! Levi isfine. Where has he been for the past ten years, and how did he grow up to look like that?”
“What? No,” I mumble, fighting her for the phone. I could easily pull up Snapchat on my own phone, but it’s in my beach bag in the back seat that Pretzel is currently using as a cushion to sit on.
