Page 40 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
Sadie’s eyes go wide, and her mouth falls open. Despite my deep feeling of shame—even though exactly none of this ismyfault—there is some small satisfaction in shocking her. It’s pretty hard to do. Most of the time, she prides herself on knowing everything. At times, I’ve wondered if her spying on people as a kid has just gotten more sophisticated with her use of tech. But obviously, she hasn’t been tracking me.
“I always hated Simon. He’s a giant jerk,” she finally says, regaining her composure.
“The biggest,” I agree.
“A totalSimon.”
I smile, feeling the sting of humiliation ease a little. “Such aSimon.”
And then she’s hugging me so hard one of my ribs might crack. I didn’t realize how much I needed this kind of hug. A hug from someone who knows the truth, is on my side, and would probably castrate Simon if given a chance.
“You deserve so much better,” she says.
“You can say ‘I told you so.’ It’s fine.”
“I wouldnever.” She pauses. “But is it okay if I get revenge?”
“Legally or illegally?”
“Never you mind.”
“Okay—revenge is fine so long as you don’t end up in jail. But I think you’re breaking me. Can we conclude the hug and go home?”
“Of course. I still have to pay for our drinks. I got distracted by sniveling Simon’s wedding invitation.”
Sadie pats my cheek once, then darts back to the bartender. I turn back to Hunter, afraid of what look I might see on his face. It better not be pity. I can handle just about any emotion except that one.
But Hunter’s stool is empty, save for the coffee mug he left behind, a pink smudge of lipstick staining the side I drank from just a few minutes before.
NINE
Hunter
I don’t meanto slam my hands on the countertop where Dante is updating what looks to be an inventory spreadsheet. But when I’m standing there for a whole minute and he doesn’t look up, slam them I do. I waited as long as I could after the bar Thursday night to talk to someone—all weekend, to be exact—and now, my ability to wait is worn thin. Or nonexistent.
He finishes whatever he’s writing, then methodically tucks his pencil behind his ear before grinning at me. “Hello to you too. Back for more tile? Or for the thin-set you left here the other day?”
I blink at him. “Right. Yeah.”
He reaches behind the counter and grabs the bags, setting them on the counter between us. “Here you go. Anything else you need?”
In truth, I’m not here for the thin-set. I’m here to talk. A thing that now seems ridiculously hard to do. Especially with how weird Dante is being. Almost like …
“You already know.” It’s a statement, not a question, but there’s still surprise in my tone.
“Know what?” His tone is infuriatingly cheerful. Ridiculously smug.
“Who told you?”
“No one needed to.” He pulls his phone out of his back pocket, turns it on, then slides it across the counter facing me.
TikTok. Frank’s TikTok. Oakley Island’s only barber—a man in his sixties—has recently turned TikTok into his favorite hobby. With a specific focus on local gossip. I don’t need to watch the man who’s been cutting my hair since I was a kid breaking down what went down at the bar Thursday night with Merritt and Sadie.
I push the phone back to Dante without watching. “The man just can’t stick to passing gossip while he’s cutting hair, can he?”
“No, he cannot.” Dante returns his phone to his back pocket. “So, Merritt Markham is single. And now you aren’t sure what excuse to use for why you shouldn’t go after her.”
Dante knows me too well. At times, like right now, for example, it’s a little scary.
