Page 7 of The Summer of Us

More footsteps squeaked past their table, and Paige lifted her gaze. A couple of the guys were casting blatant looks towards Olivia, and Paige shuffled in her seat, trying to block her from their sight.

Olivia, if she noticed, didn’t say anything, taking a bite out of her baguette instead. “Have you ever been to Whiterock?” she asked, picking a crumb off the front of her shirt.

Paige shook her head, dusting off her fingers. “Nope. I haven’t even been to the beach since that school trip to Whitby.”

“Ahh, the Captain Cook Museum. Wait, you’ve not been to the beach since then? Jeez, Paige, have you been living under a rock?”

Paige’s gaze slid down to her lap, cookie crumbs scratching against her throat. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Olivia’s expression softened. “Sorry. I forgot about your mum.”

“It’s fine. No need to tiptoe around the matter. She’s miserable and hates anyone else being happy, including me.” She shrugged, trying not to let the truth sting too much. She’d grown used to her mother’s moods that ranged between bitter and melancholy and not much else.

“Have you heard from your dad lately?”

Paige gave her a wry smile. “No. Too busy with his new family in London,” she said. “Sorry. I sound just like my mum, don’t I?” She laughed, but it sounded hollow. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I’m going to nip to the loo.”

Olivia nodded, dabbing the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “Sure. I’ll wait here.”

Pushing back her chair, Paige stood up and followed the signs to the Ladies’ room. It was empty inside, but one of the fluorescents was faulty, leaving a dark patch in the corner. Paige slid into one of the empty cubicles, cursing softly at the lack of toilet paper. Part of her was already missing home comforts, but the other part knew she needed this break, needed this chance to get away from her depressing mother and reconnect with her best friend.

Twisting on one of the rusted faucets, she washed her hands in the sink, peering at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were still pink from the sun, and her hair had turned wispy, curling around her face. She attempted to neaten it up, smoothing her fingers through the messy strands until someone else walked in, and she left.

Her heart immediately sank when she saw that Olivia was no longer alone at her table. Two boys with identical undercuts were standing beside the potted plant on Olivia’s right-side, trying to engage her. Olivia was smiling, but Paige could tell by the pinched edge to her expression that she was uncomfortable.

Lifting her chin, Paige hurried over to them, catching Olivia’s eye. “Hey, are you ready to leave?”

Olivia stood up, scrunching up the empty packet in her hand and tossing it into the bin behind her. “Yep. Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me.” She squeezed past the two boys and hooked her arm through Paige’s, hurrying away.

“Are you alright? Were they bothering you?” Paige asked, tossing a dirty look at them over her shoulder.

“No, it’s fine,” Olivia said with a flippant wave. “Thanks for coming when you did, though.”

Paige’s gaze lingered on her friend’s heart-shaped face and bottle-green eyes. It was no wonder she drew so much attention with her natural beauty. She tended to brush most of it off with the same casual ease as she did anything in life. Once upon a time, Paige would have killed to have that kind of confidence, but over the years, those thoughts had mellowed out, and now she was content with things the way they were.

“Now that you’re not going to faint from hunger, are you ready to get back onto the road?”

Olivia flashed a grin, her excitement palpable. “Hell yeah! Whiterock, here we come.”

CHAPTER THREE

Paige stuck an arm out of her open window as Olivia brought the car to a stop at a traffic light, leaving the engine purring. The breeze was warm and humid, and Paige scraped her hair back out of her face with a sigh. “I’m seriously not made for hot weather,” she said. “Though I’m glad I don’t have long hair anymore. I think that would kill me.”

“You really do look amazing with short hair,” Olivia said, her lips parted slightly, looking full and pink. Paige tried not to let her gaze linger. “I don’t know why you didn’t cut it sooner.”

Paige felt heat creep up her neck. “Thanks. I definitely feel more… me, with short hair. Maybe that sounds silly.”

“Not at all.” The light changed, and Olivia put her foot down on the pedal. “I’ve been thinking of cutting my hair short for a while too.”

Paige’s eyebrows arched. “Really? I thought you liked it long.” She traced her gaze over Olivia’s golden beach-waves flowing over her shoulder.

Olivia shrugged, shifting her hands on the wheel. “Sometimes I feel like it weighs me down,” she said, her tone ruminative. “I mean, both in the physical sense, but also in terms of trying to keep up with beauty standards, you know? Having to style it every morning so that it doesn’t look like a bombshell.”

“I didn’t realise,” Paige said softly. “I always assumed you liked it that way.”

“I don’t know for sure,” she added, “but I just want something… different.”

Paige nodded, mulling over the revelation. Olivia felt burdened by beauty standards? How come she had never mentioned that before?

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