Page 1 of Some Kind of Forever
CHAPTER ONE
KAYLA
Idrink in the cool sea air as yellows and pinks paint the morning sky. The breeze whispers through my hair, and the waves in the distance lap at the shore, humming a peaceful melody I’ve missed while being away. This is my happy place.
Home.
The colors melting into the clouds are mesmerizing enough that when my phone beeps, I jump, jolting back to reality. The first batch of muffins should be ready in five minutes. That’s plenty of time for me to get down from the roof of Patti’s Place to grab them out of the oven. As I reach into my pocket, movement flickers on the ground.
“Kayla, girl. Don’t jump,” my best friend, Ashlie, calls up from the sidewalk. Her dramatic performance shakes the golden-brown coils piled on top of her head. “I need you to make me some coffee first…”
“Likeyouneed any more energy,” I reply, standing from the crates I piled into a makeshift stool.
“If I want to make it through this summer, I do.” She slaps a hand on her hip. “Who wakes up at five in the morning for a summer job anyway? Oh, wait…” A smirk spreads across her lips as she points a finger up at me. Ashlie’s given me a hard time about my work ethic ever since she found out I was working split shifts in high school. The teasing has only increased as more responsibilities pile onto my plate.
With one last look at the now orange-tinged sky, I turn toward the ladder at the end of the roof. The sea breeze flaps my jacket open, making a shiver travel across my shoulders as I rush to pull it closed. Fort Bender, California, is a bit colder than I’m used to at my home away from home, Salima State University (SSU). They’re a little less than three hours apart, but the stark difference in temperature and scenery makes Fort Bender feel like it came straight out of a storybook about the Fae. Between the thick redwood forest and the craggy cliffs flocking the ocean, my town is a chilly little oasis in the Golden State—cozy and magical.
The rhythmic beeping from the oven sounds right as I make it into the kitchen, and I swap my jacket with my navy-colored apron on my way to silence it. I’ve been working for my boss, Ms. Patti, since high school. Slipping on this apron, with its worn embroidery on the pocket, always takes me back to those simpler times. Working at the diner back then planted the seed in me to pursue my dream of being an event planner. The amount of detail and organization that goes into working at the diner gives me a rush that I sometimes miss when I’m at SSU, so I happily take on shifts whenever I come home. It keeps me busy—gives me a routine—and busy routines keep me productive.
The sweet, steaming aroma of blueberry muffins fills the air as I flip the pastries onto the cooling rack. There are two more batches to get started before we open at seven, and it’s just past six.
Right on schedule.
I should be able to get both batches done, and the fruit for today’s pies prepped with time to spare. I pop another tray into the oven, reset the timer, and flip on the coffee maker as I pass it on my way to unlock the front door. Falling back into the opening routine for the diner is as easy as making my bed, seeingas I’m the one who introduced the idea of a diner checklist to Ms. Patti in the first place.
“Hey, girl!” Ashlie says, pulling me into a hug. She’s wearing her cobalt blue tracksuit labeledSwim Team Captainand yawns as she wraps her arms around my neck. The puffiness surrounding her eyes tells me she rolled out of bed and came straight to the diner for her morning fix.
“I’ve missed you! How was the drive from LA?” I ask, hugging her back.
“Long and winding. I forget how twisty the coast can be,” she says, reaching into her bag and pulling out a compact mirror.
It’s been five months since I’ve seen my best friend. She looks the same as she did when we met in high school, down to every last freckle splattered across her amber cheeks. While I decided to stick closer to home for academics, Ashlie went and got herself into the University of Los Angeles on a swimming scholarship. I’m able to make it home whenever I feel homesick, but a nine-hour drive means she only comes back for holidays and summer vacation.
As she checks the damage the wind did to her curls, I grab a mug from the shelf. Another yawn overtakes her when I slide the coffee over. “But I’m here now and ready to make sure all the tourists ‘fall in love’ with the history of Bender, as my boss likes to say.” Her voice takes on a flowery, mystical tone, like she’s trying to enchant the future visitors.
“Ugh, tourists! Don’t remind me.” I groan, moving around the counter to set condiments on the tables. “The audacity will be at an all-time high. You get cute retired couples looking for history and antiques. I have to deal with demands for diet water and BLTs without the B or the T.”
“That lady was so sure her lettuce sandwich would taste like a BLT too…” She giggles. “And then had the nerve to ask what you did to it to make it taste nasty!”
“The lady ordered awishsandwich, so that’s what I gave her. Ibet shewishedshe kept the bacon and tomato on it,” I say, giggling right back.
We came back just in time for my least favorite season in Bender. Memorial Day weekend marks the start of summer vacations and the arrival of people who are used to getting big city accommodations with their entitlement. I’m professional, but the infernal rage I feel inside when someone asks for the manager wears on a girl.
Ashlie’s phone chirps, and she rolls her eyes.
“How’s Bryan?” I ask.
She sighs, slipping the phone out of her pocket. “He’s…stressing me out. We agreed to do the long-distance thing. But he only graduated a week ago, and I can’t walk two steps without my phone going off. I knew he was clingy before, but this is next level.”
I cock my head to the side. “You were both pretty clingy at Christmas. If attached at the hip was a couple, it was you two.”
“Well, that was before he started talking about marriage and babies,” she says quickly, before sipping from her cup, fixing her widened eyes at the brim.
“Girl!” My mouth falls open.
“I know! I thought he just wanted to take the next step, but something about meeting my parents flipped a switch. Every conversation we have now involves some form of fortune telling. ‘Our kids will be so cute. You would sound good with my last name. Wedding. Wife.’Ugh.”
“Ashlie Christensendoeshave a nice ring to it,” I tease. She gasps and makes a gagging sound I can’t help but laugh at. Ashlie’s mostly bubbly personality is a mixed bag of humor, sass, and a whole lot of attitude. Whoever pins down my best friend is going to have their hands full, and it doesn’t sound like that person will be Bryan.
