Page 8 of Summer Ever After
The look of surprise on his face is enough to make me consider moving off the island forever. Justconsiderit, not really do it.
“A date?” The wheels turn in his head as he puzzles it out. “Wouldn’t that be weird since we’ve been friends our whole life?”
Yes, it could be weird.
This whole plan is weird. I flippantly said it to prove a point to Cat when she made fun of romance tropes. But the more I thought about it, the more I got on board. I do want to fall in lovewithsomeone who lives on this island. Why not now? Why not this summer?
That’s why I woke up this morning with a renewed vow to actually give this falling-in-love thing a try. So I texted my good pal Beau and asked him if he was free tonight for dinner. I just wish I had used the worddatein my text.
I lift my shoulder, smiling at him as I explain my rationale. “You want to stay on the island. I want to stay on the island. I thought it might be wise to see if something could happen between us. Like you said, we’re friends. We already have half the relationship down.” I hold my breath, waiting for his response.
“You know I love you, Jane.” Beau smiles that sweet smile that has endeared me to him for years. “You know, why not?”
My brows pop up. “Really?”
“Yeah, you’re right. There are a lot of reasons why you and I make sense. We should see if there’s something between us.”
“So it’s a date?” I’m probably too eager, but it’s Beau. We’re not playing any games here.
“It’s a date.”
We both laugh, but the feeling shifts. Awkwardness blows in like a tropical storm, which is strange because I’ve never felt awkward around Beau. Thank goodness Marlyss shows up with the food and saves the day.
“Okey dokey. I’ve got both of your usuals.” She sets the plates down in front of us.
“It looks delicious,” I say, happy for the distraction.
“Yeah, smells great. Thanks, Marlyss.”
“Enjoy!” I want to grab hold of her apron strings as she turns to leave to keep her here so I don’t have to make date conversation with Beau, but I don’t. I’m a grown woman who wants to fall in love. Putting myself out there is the only way. Proactive Jane, for better or worse.
“So, Beau.” I stir the rice in my chicken bowl, avoiding eye contact. “How are you liking Sunset Harbor since you’ve been back?”
“It’s exactly as I remember. Good people. Good food.” He gestures to his burger. “I didn't realize how much I loved it until I left. It's just a great place to live.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Have you ever considered moving away?”
Sunset Harbor and the people here are my rock-solid foundation. I couldn’t fathom living anywhere else.
“No.” I shake my head, giving myself a moment to chewbefore continuing. “My whole life is wrapped up in this island. I never want to leave.”
Beau nods and then takes a bite, so I do too. We’re chewing in silence. This conversation feels strained and robotic, and I don’t know why. What happened to the flirty banter from a couple minutes ago?
Maybe I need to lean on a trope. You know, get this party started. When all else fails, rely on the cliches. They’ll launch us into act two of our love story.
Beau’s eyes drift around the room, so I quickly place a small piece of rice in my hair. Tonight, when I go to brush the sticky strand, I’m sure I’ll regret this decision. But for now, I’m baiting him to extract something from my hair—a favorite micro-trope of mine. Usually, the item in the woman’s hair gets there a bit more organically, but beggars can’t be choosers.
“Mo’s band sounds really good,” Beau says with appreciation. “I haven’t heard them in a long time.”
I pull my shoulders back and lengthen my neck, really giving him a chance to notice the piece of rice. “Yeah, they’re legendary on the island. They play the same fifteen songs over and over, but why change what’s working, you know?”
“Yeah, stick with the classics.” His eyes drop back to his food. “Tell me how you got started working in the mayor’s office. You’ve been city administrator for three years now, right?”
“Yep.” My shoulders sink, and I do my best not to roll my eyes. He’s completely oblivious to the rice in my hair. I might need to do something more drastic, use a trope he can’t miss.
What about fake choking? I know that’s a little extreme—or maybea lotextreme— but I like the damsel-in-distress vibe that comes with it. And I’m all in, so let’s get extreme.
