Page 835 of Not Over You

“Did you walk uphill in the snow both ways too?” I ask.

“Ha ha, funny,” she says sipping her wine. “Where’s this party?”

“At a lifeguard’s in Brighton. His name is Dirk Greyson and we are taking the shuttle.” There’s a shuttle on the island that runs every half hour and it’s a good way to get around if you plan on drinking.

“You can take my car if you want,” she says handing me her keys.

I take them because duh, I’m not going to turn down a chance to drive her little BMW.

“No drinking, obviously,” she warns me and I shrug because I’m not a big drinker anyway.

I hug her and then drag Owen out with me. “Hurry, before she changes her mind.”

The alarm beeps as I unlock the doors and we both get in quickly.

“Would she really change her mind?” he asks.

“Probably not, but you never know with her.”

I crank up the radio as Clocks from Coldplay comes on the radio. It’s one of my favorite songs. The streets are a little busier than they were last week but peak season isn’t quite here yet. The windows are down as we cruise down a side road that will take us to Dirk’s house. This is the third party he’s had and it’s only been a few weeks.

“Looks like Dirk is the host for the summer,” I say.

“He does have the biggest house, and he’s there alone. He told me his parents own like half of New York and never come to LBI. The house just sits empty most summers.”

“That is depressing. At least he’s making good use of it this year. I’d have parties all the time if I had a giant empty house too.”

“You do when your mom’s away though.” He nudges me.

“True, but she’s entirely too unpredictable and I’m sure I’d get caught.” I know if I decided to have a rager, that would be the night my mom would come down. “I’m open to having a few low-key hangs though.”

“My aunt said I could have some people over for the Fourth, if you’re around.”

“Mom promises to be home, but I’m sure after the fireworks I can swing over.”

We pull into the large parking area under Dirk’s huge house. There are only about five cars but in an hour the whole place will be packed. I drive through and set it so the Beemer is facing out so no one can block me if I want to bail early.

I press the key fob and the alarm tweets, and when I turn, Owen takes my hand. I look at our joined hands and then at him and he winks. He’s an overly friendly guy so I’m trying not to read anything into it. Like, really trying.

Dirk, his girlfriend, Katie, and a few other guards are all sitting on the top deck, drinking and watching the sunset.

“Owen and Mollie! The dream team,” Dirk calls to us as we get to the top of the stairs. “Come sit and admire as the polluted skies of New Jersey make a pretty.”

He offers us each a beer and I politely decline, then sit on a fancy outdoor loveseat. Owen takes the beer and sits next to me.

“We were just taking bets as to who will be the first to drop out,” a guard named Mike says.

Every summer there are at least two or three people who can’t handle the guard program. It is not for everyone and there are always people who hate the early morning swim training every other day, can’t handle the crowds, or just feel like it’s too much pressure. You are responsible for your beach. There can be up to 500 lives you are responsible for some days.

“No one better have bet on me,” I say wagging my finger at them.

Katie laughs. “No, but they did say you were so tough that they thought Owen would quit before you.”

I raise my arms in victory as Owen curses next to me.

“Bull shit,” he says. “I’m not saying she’d quit but I’m not going anywhere. You all forget I spent last summer at the Hamptons where the waves are bigger and the people are richer and more annoying.”

We all chat and name a few candidates. The crowd begins to grow and before we know it there are about 20 people on this deck.

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