Discovering Delilah (Harborside Nights, Book 2) (2 page)

I think about her all the time, count down the hours until I’ll see her again, and I swear when she’s around, gravity doesn’t exist. It’s really hard to stay grounded and focused around her, because I spend
my time admiring her and wanting to touch her. Not even make out with, just touch, like when you sit with someone who’s funny and warm and smart and you want to be closer to them. That’s me with Ashley—although I
also
want to make out with her.
God, do I want to
.

My pulse quickens, and I shift in my seat. I can’t even think about her without getting all hot and bothered.

I guess I zoned
out because the counseling session is over and everyone’s leaving. It’s late summer, and when I step outside, the cool evening air stings my cheeks and clears my head. I head down the concrete steps and start my short walk home to our beach house. When my parents died, my twin brother, Wyatt, and I inherited everything—the house in Connecticut where we grew up, the beach house here in Harborside,
Massachusetts, where we’ve spent summers since we were kids, and the Taproom, the best bar and grill in town. We’ve been living here and running the bar for a little more than two months, and Wyatt and I finally decided to sell the house in Connecticut this fall. Too many ghosts in that house.

“Wait up.” Janessa jogs to catch up. “Are you okay? You seemed down tonight.”

“I’m okay, thanks.
Just thinking.” We walk down the dimly lit residential street toward the lights of the boardwalk. Harborside is small enough to walk most places but still big enough that the outskirts of town are more secluded and less commercialized.

“Yeah, that’s kind of what this whole grief-counseling thing is supposed to do to us, right? Make us introspective and force us to deal with our feelings.”

I know Janessa lost a family member, but she was already attending the group sessions when I started, and she’s never said exactly who it was that she lost. I’m not about to ask. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in group, it’s that when people want to talk about their grief, they’ll bring it up.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Want to grab a cup of coffee at Brooke’s Bytes?”

“Brooke’s
is so crowded at night. How about someplace else?” I try to say it casually, but the truth is, counseling leaves me feeling uneasy, and the last place I want to be is near giddy teenagers in a boardwalk café. Not to mention that my friend Brooke owns the café, and I really just want to be away from people I know while I come down from group.

Janessa’s eyes drop from mine, linger around my
mouth, then lift to my eyes again. Her scrutiny makes me nervous, but it feels good at the same time, and I’m not sure how to handle it, so I tuck my hair behind my ear to distract myself.

“Sure,” she says. “The Sandbar, over on Shab Row?”

The Sandbar is a pub, so I know we won’t be drinking coffee. Ashley is working at the surf shop tonight, and my other friends are just hanging out at
home, which means I have no plans, and looking at Janessa all night is
not
a hardship, so I agree.

Shab Row is a quiet street with old-fashioned, bulbous streetlights on tall black poles, brick pavers, and only a handful of shops. Unlike the many commercial streets of Harborside, which boast bright signs and sidewalk displays, Shab Row is more subdued. The signs have muted colors of slate
blue, maroon, and earth tones, and the most paraphernalia that I’ve ever seen outside are holiday lights on the wrought-iron railings lining the steps into the shops and pub.

The bar is dimly lit and nearly empty. We sit at a booth in the back and order drinks from a tall, slim waiter who looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. My phone vibrates and my heart skips a beat when Ashley’s
name appears on the screen.

It’s kind of pathetic that I’m crushing on her so hard that I get excited over seeing her name on my phone.

How was counseling?
  I smile as I read her text, loving that she cares enough to ask.

“Boyfriend?” Janessa asks as the waiter returns with our drinks.

I shake my head and laugh as I reply to Ashley.
Fine. Having a drink with a girl from the session.
Still on for sketching sunrise tomorrow?
Ashley and I have been meeting at sunrise or sunset a few times each week. She paints landscapes, and I’m teaching her to sketch. It’s about the only hobby that I have, but I’m pretty good at it. The only problem is, I’m usually so busy looking at Ashley that I don’t get much sketching done when we’re together.

“Why did you laugh?” Janessa sips her
drink as I read Ashley’s confirmation for tomorrow, then set my phone aside.

Ashley’s my first
real
girl crush ever—although it feels like a hell of a lot more than a crush. I have to stop lusting after her. Not knowing if Ash is straight or into girls leaves me longing for someone I’ll probably never have.  Besides, having absolutely zero intimate experience with girls, I can’t even be sure
that I’d enjoy the sexy side of being with her if she
is
into me. When Ashley and I are together, we don’t really talk about frivolous stuff like hooking up with people. It’s like we’re so in sync with each other that nothing else even exists. I guess between learning to run the Taproom and dealing with moving in and out of the beach house—which I know hurt Wyatt’s feelings—and trying to deal
with the death of my parents, my focus has pretty much been on survival. And when Ash and I are together, I’m working so hard to ignore my burgeoning feelings for her that I avoid any topics having to do with dating or hooking up.

“Hello? Delilah?” Janessa waves her hand in front of my eyes.

“I’m sorry. I totally zoned out.”

“Yeah, I noticed you did that at counseling, too. You sure
you’re okay?” She tilts her head, and her long dark hair slips over her shoulder. She reminds me of Megan Fox, except Megan’s eyes look sharp and catlike, like she’s always either on the prowl or ready for the paparazzi. Janessa’s are a little larger, slightly rounder, and usually thoughtful or filled with compassion, as they are now.

“Yes.” I down half of my drink.

“So, are you going
to tell me why you laughed when I asked if you had a boyfriend?” Her lips curl up in a smile, revealing a row of perfect pearly whites beneath.

I run my finger over the rim of my glass to keep her from seeing what’s going through my mind. I was always so afraid of my parents finding out that I thought I liked girls that I admitted it only to Wyatt and Cassidy.

“Okay, here’s the thing.”
Janessa reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. “I know you’re grieving for your parents, and my heart goes out to you. It’s going to take a really long time to deal with that, but I can see that something else is going through that pretty little mind of yours, and if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Pretty little mind?
 She leaves her hand on mine. It’s warm and soft and
makes my pulse speed up. Did I misread her? Is she into me? Me? Why would she be?
Do I look like a lesbian?
No woman has ever come onto me before.

“Thanks, Janessa.” I finish my drink and move my hand, feeling a little queasy.

She waves the waiter over and orders another round of drinks. “So…was that your
girlfriend
on the phone?”

My eyes shoot to hers.

“It was just a guess.” She
holds both hands up in surrender, then leans across the table and lowers her voice. “But your look is very telling.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” I feel my cheeks heat up, but I can’t look away from Janessa as she arches a brow. We’ve spoken only a handful of times. How can she possibly guess this about me?

“But…you wish she was?” Janessa’s phone rings and she holds up her index finger.
“Hold that thought.” She looks at me as she answers the call, and the attention makes me even more nervous. “Hi, baby. Are you going night-night?”

Night-night?
Oh my gosh. I’m thinking she’s into me and she’s a mom? She’s probably married. My radar is totally off. My stomach feels like there’s a tornado brewing inside me. I look away, embarrassed that I was so far off base.

“Okay, sweetheart.
Have fun with Uncle Dean.”  She blows a kiss into the phone, then holds up her finger again. “Hey, Dean. Yeah. She’s okay? Great. Okay. I’ll be there tomorrow morning.” She pauses. “Okay. Love you, too.” She ends the call and stuffs her phone into her purse. “I’m sorry. My little girl is staying with my brother and his little boy for their weekly slumber party.”

“You have a daughter?” If I
was wrong about how she was looking at me, how will I ever know when someone’s really interested?

“Mm-hm. Jackie, she’s three. Here, I’ll show you a picture of her.” She pulls her phone back out and scrolls through pictures, then reaches across the table and shows me a picture of the most adorable little brown-haired girl. Janessa is lying on a bed hugging Jackie, cheek to cheek.

“Aw,
she’s so cute. She looks just like you, too.”

She shows me a bunch more pictures, and in every one she and Jackie are both smiling. Even in the picture of Jackie sleeping on Janessa’s shoulder, it looks like the little girl is smiling.

“What does your husband do?”

She puts her phone away. “Oh, I’m not married.” She locks eyes with me. “And I’m not straight, either.”

“Oh.” It comes
out as a whisper, and the fact that I can’t even answer like a normal human being embarrasses me. I wonder if she adopted Jackie. She must have…No. She could have used artificial insemination. Or maybe Jackie’s her girlfriend’s child? I’m not curious because I’m interested in her. I’ve never thought past one day having a girlfriend—which in itself seems like a fantasy. I’m curious about how it
all works.

“Delilah, I’m going out on a limb here, so feel free to tell me if I’m off base, but you haven’t come out yet, have you?”

I sigh, but this time I don’t look away. I have to start somewhere, and I’ve already admitted more to her verbally and nonverbally than I have to anyone else, so I force myself to answer her.

“I hate that term.”

“I hate it, too,” she admits. “So,
are you
out
?”

I shake my head.

“Aw, Delilah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, really. I’m…This is all new to me. My parents were very conservative, so…”

“So, you never told them?” Her brows knit together. “Want to talk about it?”

“I told them right before I walked for graduation, but they weren’t very supportive.” I feel my eyes tear up and I down my drink in one gulp.
When I told my parents that I liked girls, they looked at me like I disgusted them, and it nearly took me to my knees. They never said a word about my confession after graduation, but it was chaotic. There were pictures to deal with and congratulations from friends and my aunt Lara who had come with them to watch me and Wyatt graduate.

I push the memories away and blink several times, trying
to repress my tears. “I’m sorry. Can we not talk about my parents?”

“Of course. I’m sorry. I’m being too nosy.”

“No, it’s not that. Actually, I like talking to you. This is the first time I’ve had a conversation like this. It feels good to get some of it out in the open.”

She smiles. “I like talking to you, too.”

“I don’t really talk about this stuff with anyone else. My brother,
Wyatt, tries to talk to me about it, but it feels weird even though he’s supportive.”

“Listen, I get it. My parents were surprised to find out that my brother, Dean, and I weren’t straight.” Her eyes fill with sadness, and just as quickly, that sadness is replaced with something else. Determination? Acceptance? I’m not sure.

“Our parents came around, and they’re very supportive, but I’ve
dated women whose families weren’t exactly on board with their lifestyles, and I know how hard it can be.”

“Even around here? Harborside is so diverse. I still can’t figure out why my parents had a summer house here and bought the Taproom.”

“Your parents owned the Taproom?”

“Yeah, well, Wyatt and I do now.” Knowing that she understands my situation puts me at ease.

“So…” She sips
her drink and lifts her chin in the direction of my phone. “Want to tell me about the texter we’re not talking about?”

I laugh. “Ashley. I just met her at the beginning of the summer, and she’s…” My heart is sprinting in my chest, and I can feel a goofy smile coming on.

“Uh-huh. You have a major crush on Ashley. So, what’s the problem?”

“Take your pick. I’ve
never
kissed a girl. I
have no idea if
she’s
into girls or guys, and oh yeah, did I say I have
never
even kissed a girl?” I know I’m blushing, but at the same time, it feels so good to get the words out that I can’t seem to stop myself.

“Never? Didn’t you say in therapy that you just graduated from college?”

I nod, knowing what’s coming next.

“And you never explored your sexuality?”

I shake my head.

“You never got drunk and kissed your best friend, or got into a little girl-on-girl action and blamed it on the alcohol?”

I laugh and shake my head again. “That would have been a good idea, if I drank a lot, but I was too afraid of my parents catching wind of it. And believe me, they would
not
have approved. I have no idea what they would have done, but the idea of them finding out and…I
don’t know, refusing to pay my college tuition, or just making me feel worse than I already did...” I shrug again, unable to believe how I’m opening up to her. She’s so easy to talk to, and I feel oddly safe sitting in this dimly lit corner booth, spilling my heart to her.

“Oh, Delilah. No offense, but your parents did a job on you. At least you’re in the right place to figure it all out,
and it sounds like your brother is supportive even if you don’t want to talk to him. Believe me, support is everything.” She finishes her drink and slaps money on the table. “Want to get out of here and walk for a while?”

“Sure. Thanks for the drinks.” We grab our stuff, and once we’re outside she loops her arm into mine, like a friend who’s known me for years.

“I promise you, Delilah.
It won’t always feel like you’re living in a fishbowl. Life has a way of working itself out, and there will come a time when you know you’re on the right path, and when that happens, you’ll stop worrying about what everyone else thinks.”