Page 77 of Summer People
Fisher’s eyes flash with amusement as he rolls forward again. Flirty Donuts has nothing on this.
“You two coming in?” Fisher says as he parks. The baker is already standing out front, her red hair teased high, screaming for attention just like the low-cut too-tight shirt she’s got on. Shameless, truly.
“We’ll wait here. I’m hungry, so don’t take too long,” Sutton says without looking out the window.
Fisher nods as if Sutton’s response is normal—when it absolutely is not—and disappears.
I turn in my seat and study her. I’ve never seen Sutton so snarky before and while I’m all for her hurrying this situation along, I’m concerned about what’s going through that pretty little head of my favorite girl.
Before I can drum up the words to ask, she beats me to it. “Do you wear a bra?”
I rear back, caught off guard. If I’d had time to ponder all the things that could be bothering her, that would not have made the list.
“Um, yeah.”
Lips twisting, she looks out the window.
“Doyouwear a bra?” I ask slowly, keeping my tone neutral.
Sutton lets out a laugh far too sardonic for such a young person. “What do you think? Fisher would lose his mind if I asked him to get me one.”
Suddenly, I get it. At least partially. I straighten, feeling more confident about being a confidant for her. “Yeah, it was totally awkward talking to my dad about it, but it wasn’t as bad as being made fun of for not wearing one.”
Sutton shifts, her lips tugging. “People made fun ofyou?”
“Everyone gets made fun of at some time or another, pretty girl. Some people are just mean.”
With a sigh, she sinks lower in her seat. “Ben said he could see my nipples.”
I picture the scrawny ten-year-old and decide I’ll knock a paint can onto his foot—a full one—at the next rehearsal. “Believe me, one day he’ll be begging to see them.” I slap a hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. Cringing, I exhale harshly. “Please, don’t tell Fisher I said that.”
Sutton laughs, the tension leaving her body.
I relax a little too. Despite clearly struggling with keeping my conversations with her appropriate, it feels good to know I can put her at ease. “But seriously, boys are jerks sometimes. And if someone tells you a boy is picking on you because he likes you, that’s crap.” I huff. “A boy who likes you should be nice to you. He should do nice things for you?—”
“Like when Fisher bought iced coffee for you?”
Cheeks heating, I rack my brain for how to respond without stepping on any other landmines. Fisher and I haven’t even discussed what’s going on between us, and Sutton is his, so it’s up to him to decide when he wants to talk to her about what we’re doing. Whatever that may be.
“Or how he delivers all your packages?” She raises her brows.
My heart flutters, but I play it cool. “He delivers everyone’s packages.”
“Yeah, but he goes all the way to Boothbay to get yours, and he definitely doesn’t dance with anyone else.” Her expression goes thoughtful. “Before you, he never smiled.”
The weight of those words slams against my chest with a powerful thud, knocking me back. “Sutton.” I grasp her hand and squeeze, hoping she understands just how much that truth means to me.
It’s bittersweet. I hate that before this summer, he never smiled, and even more, I hate that she noticed. But I can’t help but be thankful that now that it’s a relatively regular occurrence, she’s around to witness it. Joy is a powerful thing. My hope for her is that she can emulate that and not the sadness that’s settled around the two of them like a fog for so long.
“I’m really glad you’re here.” Her voice is so quiet I almost miss the admission.
“I’m really glad I’m here too.”
Fisher comes stomping back, his friend on his heels.
“Sutton,” she calls. She’s wearing a smile, but it drops the moment she sees me in the front seat. Seeing as how there are no doors, it’s not easy for her to ignore me, but she does a decent job. “Hi, baby girl,” she coos.
“Hi, Flora,” Sutton replies, her voice far more monotone than usual. She kind of sounds like Fisher, if I’m being honest.
