Maine Squeeze (11 page)

Ben stretched his arms over his head. “I'm so beat. I'm going home to take a shower and change—I'll see you when you get off work tonight, okay?” He gave me another quick kiss and went over to the bike rack to unlock his bike.

“Your schedules really suck this summer, huh?” Sam commented. “Not like when you were dating Evan and you could see each other at work all the time.”

“Sh!” I said.

“Sh, what?” Blair asked.

“He doesn't know about Evan yet. I still have to tell him.”

“Why would you do that?” Blair said.

“Uh, because I have to?” I said. “Because it's the only right and honest and decent thing to do?”

“Maybe, but it's stupid, too. I never tell guys about ex-boyfriends,” Blair said. “It just makes them mad, or it makes them think they're better than him, or even worse, it makes them think they have to go out and
prove
that they're better than him.”

Why did it sound as if she'd had a hundred boyfriends already? “So you just don't say anything?” I asked.

“I keep it vague. Extremely vague. I think secrecy is underrated these days,” Blair said.

I nodded, smiling. Maybe she was onto something.

“I mean, has
he
told you about all of his ex-girlfriends?” Blair asked.

“I think so. I mean … well, how would I know? He only moved here last year.”

“Exactly. And how would Ben know about Evan if you don't tell him?”

Sam cleared her throat. “He'd know.”

“Why?” Blair asked.

“Because she and Evan act like freaks whenever they're around each other.”

“Freaks?” I laughed. “We do not!”

“Okay, then. Whatever you say. But why don't you go walk Ben home?” Sam suggested.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Ben talking to one of his neighbors. “Good idea. See you guys in an hour!”

I jogged over to catch Ben before he rode off on his bike. We walked down the road together, catching up on things.

Tell him! Tell him!
my brain screamed as I babbled on about an E-mail from my parents and a description of Trudy's latest dessert concoction (a peanut butter fudge brownie sundae with fresh strawberries and whipped cream—what I'd had for lunch).

“I'm going to have to come by for that,” Ben said, sounding very interested. “I should do that, huh? Come see you at work sometime this weekend?”

“Um … maybe not this weekend, because it's going to be swamped,” I said. “How about sometime during the week? Like, ah …” I hadn't seen the schedule yet for next week, but there must be a day that I worked and Evan didn't. And if there wasn't? I'd create one.

Tell him, tell him right now!

But we only had an hour to spend together. Why should I ruin it? I'd wait for my day off. Monday. I'd tell him then, for sure.

Chapter 9

Any day that starts off with you getting canned cat food on your sunglasses is not a good day.

Maybe I don't even have to point that out, because it's pretty obvious, but take my word for it: When your small, perfectly oval, slightly green and slightly pink framed sunglasses, that you found only after trying on fifty other pairs and annoying your mother to no end at a department store, because all the other shapes made your face look big, or small, or wrong, only she couldn't see that, only
you
could see that … well, when something happens to
those
glasses, you should take it as a sign.

I was feeding the cats before I went to work, and I had leaned over to set down the bowls, but my sunglasses were perched on my head and they tumbled right into the ocean fish catch (or, rather, can) of the day. The lenses went smush into the gloppy, fishy part. If that image isn't disgusting, I don't know what is. In fact, I could not stop thinking about it even after I washed them in hot soapy water for five minutes, so I wasn't wearing sunglasses, which could have been part of my problem. Any bright sunny day near the ocean without sunglasses? Not a good idea.

Also, someone had used up the coffee the day before without replacing it. I added Rule 11 to the pink poster board:

Then I made myself a cup of herbal spearmint tea—which is what I usually drink before going to sleep at night—and made a bowl of instant oatmeal, because we were also out of milk for cereal. Halfway through eating, I noticed the oatmeal had a strange-looking black seed floating in it. The rest of it went down the garbage disposal. Then I added Rule 12 to the list:

It was my day off, but not Ben's, so I'd decided to do a round-trip on the ferry. That way, we could spend some time together. The way the day started off, maybe I should have given up on my plan to talk to Ben about Evan that afternoon, but I didn't. I even begged Sam for assistance, but she turned me down, saying she wanted to spend the day reading and hanging out on the beach. She promised to stop at the store for milk and coffee, so I was officially out of excuses.

I was riding my bike down to the Landing when I turned a corner in the road and saw Evan riding toward me. Could this island
get
any smaller? Could there not be more than three main roads?

Of course, as I got closer I noticed that Evan had a nice road bike, while I was cruising along on my trusty fifty-year-old one-speed.

“Hey!” He turned around and started riding beside me. “What's up?”

“Oh … not much.”
Just going to tell my boyfriend about you
.

“You're not—” I stopped myself before I blurted it out, for once. If I told him where I was going, he'd probably follow me there, or ask me why I was going to the mainland.

“I'm not what?” he asked.

Not that nice. Not very considerate. Not as good-looking when your ankles are covered up with white socks
. “You're not, ah, training for a triathlon, are you?”

Evan squinted at me, which was funny considering I couldn't stop squinting. Having light blue eyes makes you very sensitive to bright sunlight. “No, not right now. Why?”

“Just, you know …” I shrugged. “Wondering.”

“And you? Where are you headed?”

“I'm, ah, going to visit Haley. At work.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, tell her I said hi.”

“Sure thing,” I said. “I'll do that.”

Haley was no fan of Evan's, though, so maybe I wouldn't do that. I heaved a sigh of relief as he turned back around and rode away.

“Could you get me two large root beers?” I asked Haley. “No, wait. Maybe I should make those banana splits.”

“Having a bad day?” she teased.

“Not yet,” I said. “Well, kind of.” I explained about the cat food and the sunglasses while she filled the cups with root beer.

“Thanks for making me lose my appetite,” she said as she handed me the large plastic cups.

“Thanks. I'm bringing one of these to Ben—I thought I'd catch Moby and ride a round-trip with him.”

“That sounds like fun.” Haley rested her elbows on the takeout window and we both gazed out at the people getting off the ferry.

I saw Ben talking with a tall girl with long red hair who was carrying a classic off-white L. L. Bean “Boat and Tote” canvas bag. (I used to think they were stupid, until I realized how much stuff you could carry in them.) “Who is that girl?” I asked as I watched her give Ben a big smile and wave good-bye as she disembarked.

“I have no idea,” Haley said.

“Isn't she on the ferry like every day?” I asked. I'd seen her every day that I came down here, anyway. Why was she boating and what was she toting? And did it have to be with Ben?

“Almost. Usually at three, though. She's early today.”

As she walked past, I couldn't help noticing that she was flat-out gorgeous. She was tall, and she wore a black skirt, a pink-pattern wispy blouse, and black sandals. Her legs were model material. “Do we hate her, maybe?”

“Maybe a little bit.” Haley nodded. “Yeah.”

I stepped aside as a customer approached the window. “Wish me luck.”

“Luck,” she said. “For what? Drinking a root beer?”

“Yeah, something like that.” I laughed. The way my day had begun, I wouldn't be surprised if I (a) dropped it off the boat, (b) got the hiccups after drinking it, or (c) laughed too hard while drinking it and had root beer come out my nose.

“Actually … I'm going to tell Ben about Evan,” I confessed.

“Oh. Oh? Well, then.
Luck,
” Haley said. “Lots of it.”

When I stepped up to the ferry to get on, Ben just stared at me.

“Colleen? What are you doing here? What's this?”

I handed Ben a ticket. “For me.” Then I handed him the root beer. “For you.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“I'll go sit down. Come and find me when you get some free time, okay?” I said.

“More than okay.” He smiled and kissed my cheek as I walked past him.

I sat up front, on the upper deck, enjoying the sun on my face with my eyes closed against the brightness of it. I was exhausted from last night's shift. We'd been fairly busy when a table of twelve came in without a reservation. It was a birthday party for a four-year-old, and by the time we could get them a table all of the kids were in pretty rotten moods. While I went to get their sodas, Evan had brought them a couple of trays of French fries to keep them happy, and then entertained them all by doing some simple magic tricks, like pulling out quarters from behind their ears. Then they'd laughed and yelled and made Evan be their waiter, instead of me. What can I say? They were easily entertained. I was a bit put out, until he shared his eighteen-percent tip with me.

“Hey.”

I opened my eyes and saw Ben standing there. “Hi!”

He sat down beside me and we gave each other a hug. “This was so nice of you to come for a cruise. You didn't have to buy a ticket, though.”

“Well, I didn't want to get you in trouble or anything,” I said. I looked into his eyes, squinting against the bright sun. Why did I feel so guilty, like I had done something wrong? It was what I
hadn't
done that was the problem. I gave myself a mini pep talk while he finished off his root beer.

If I tell him about Evan, that will make it seem less weird. Once I tell him, it'll be out in the open and we can all go back to our normal, or semi-normal, lives
.

“So, there's something I have to tell you,” I began.

“This doesn't sound good. What's wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing's
wrong
.” I put my hand on his leg and gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze. “I just need to let you know about something that happened last summer, before you lived here.” I paused for a second and then reminded him, “You didn't live here then. I didn't know you.”

Ben just stared at me. “Yeah, I know I didn't live here last summer. I'm the one who moved.”

“Right. Right!” I laughed nervously. “I really have to stop saying that so much.
Right
. I'm constantly saying that, aren't I? It must be annoying.”

“Colleen? I only have a couple of minutes, so …”

“Okay. Last summer.” A strong breeze blew the strap from my knapsack against the ferry railing. For a minute, I just sat there and listened to the sound of it snapping. “I probably mentioned I went out with this guy named Evan. Right?” Darn. I said it again.

“No, I don't remember anything about a guy named Evan,” Ben said.

“Sure, I told you. Evan. From Philadelphia?” I finally got the nerve to look at his face, and tried to gauge his reaction to this news. “Anyway, it wasn't like it was anything serious. We dated for a couple of months—you know, typical summer … fling. Thing.”

“A couple of months isn't exactly a fling.”