Page 23 of Summer People
She glances down at her mug and then toward the gate, her shoulders drooping.
Maggie sighs. “The two of you are pathetic. You get a kid-free night, and neither of you are enjoying it.”
Fisher’s lip twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “I don’t know. I enjoyed getting rid of those summer people.”
The laugh that bubbles out of Kennedy is airy. “Fine. One more.” She hands her mug to Maggie.
Maggie eyes me in silent question.
I eye the mugs she’s holding, then turn to Fisher, who’s drinking from a can. “How come you don’t have a mug?”
Maggie laughs. “Oh, he does.”
“He just never uses it,” Kennedy finishes.
Frowning, I assess him—the dark hair, the perma-scowl, the broody demeanor. “But why?”
He grunts.
Sighing, I turn to Maggie. I don’t know why I bothered trying to get a real response from him. “What do the numbers stand for?”
She shrugs. “Just the number you get when it’s assigned.” She holds hers up so I can see the thirty-six stamped into the side. “Sixty-eight people live on the island. Obviously the kids don’t have mugs yet. We all get them when we turn twenty-one.”
“Sixty-nine people if you count me,” I say with a smile.
“We don’t,” Fisher grumbles.
Maggie sighs. “Ignore him.”
I do. He’s grumpy and miserable, and I refuse to let him bring me down. “So how do I get one?”
“You don’t,” he grits out. “They’re not for summer people.”
“I’ll talk to my dad,” Maggie offers, giving me a sweet smile. “You’re not really summer people since you’re staying here the whole summer.”
“That’s literally the definition of summer people,” Fisher says with a smirk.
Kennedy rests her forearms on the table and leans forward. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so many words.”
A loud laugh cuts through the dark, and instantly, Maggie’s head snaps up.
From here, it looks as though the women from the bachelorette party are being wooed by the man who was sitting with Fisher before my annoying neighbor inserted himself into our conversation.
“Your brother is such a flirt,” Maggie grumbles.
Chin lifted, Kennedy squints. Then she gives her head a shake. “On second thought, no more beer for me. I’m not in the mood.” She looks at Fisher. “You ready to go yet?”
His brown eyes cut to mine, then drop to my beer. “You sticking around, Princess?”
Annoyance flares, heating me for an instant. “Yup.”
He dips his chin at Kennedy. “Go on without me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She bites down on her lip, though a smile peeks through anyway. “Right. See you tomorrow.” She hugs Maggie goodbye and then grins at me. “It was so nice to meet you, Libby. Hopefully I’ll see you around more often.”
With that, she’s rushing out the gate like she can’t get home fast enough.
Another laugh rings through the yard, and Maggie eyes the group of women. “I should go see if they need anything.”
