Page 29 of Our Long Days
His throat bobs. “Know what…?”
“It was me applying for the job?”
A flicker of surprise in his normally neutral expression tells me he didn’t.
“Oh.”
He checks his watch. “Kelsey called earlier and said she’d send over the details of the candidate before I met them.” He checks his watch. “You’re early.”
His lighthearted joke eases some of the brewing self-doubt. “You really didn’t know?”
“My decision was based on what the resumes said. Yours stood out to me.” He shrugs, like there isn’t a huge elephant in the room.
My fingers twist, eyes cutting to the goats munching on a patch of grass. “Is this a good idea? I have zero experience in this field. You’d be better off hiring someone who knows what they’re doing and…”
There’s the matter of us having seen each other naked.
He exhales loudly. “You’re forgetting the part where I said your resume impressed me. Why are you underselling yourself?”
Dismissing his stern tone, I roll my eyes. “I don’t want you to feel obligated. No hard feelings if?—”
“You haven’t accepted yet, right?” he interjects.
“Right…”
“Let me show you around, go over the job responsibilities, and then you can make a decision.” Dex smiles, his lip picking up on one side. “Mine’s made up, Little Sadler. The ball is in your court.”
Little Sadler. Not Trouble.
I can recall the day he coined that nickname, the memory clear as day. Coincidentally, it also happens to be the moment that fortified my longstanding crush, just a dewy-eyed seventeen-year-old.
Summer in Maine is my favorite season for multiple reasons.
Barbecues.
Fireflies.
Bonfires.
Sunbathing.
And most recently: Dexter Moore stepping out of the ocean.
I watch each water droplet with apt fascination as they glide down his torso and disappear into the waistband of his swim trunks. The number of tattoos adorning his body has doubled, and from behind my sunglasses, I canreallyappreciate the artwork.
My brothers are somewhere in the foreground, Patrick specifically, who won’t be grateful for me ogling his best friend.
Boo-hoo.
Not even the spicy books I read under the protection of my comforter compare to this.
It’s easy to blame my flamed cheeks on the hot summer sun, not the other feelings coursing through my body.
Dex isn’t built like the boys in my class. There isn’t anything boyish about him, never has been. Another fact: Dex will never, ever give me the time of day outside of being his best friend’s little sister.
I’m so enthralled, it’s too late to realize he’s headed right this way. Sprawled on my towel, belly down, I quickly smooth my blonde hair away from my face and check there isn’t any ketchup lingering on my face from my hot dog.
He spots me and raises his hand.
