Maine Squeeze (15 page)

“Lemonade or iced tea—whatever,” Ben said.

“Be right back,” I promised as I headed back inside. When I came back out, I realized I'd forgotten ketchup for Ben's fries, so I ran in to grab a couple of packets and some extra tartar sauce for my fried fish sandwich.

You might think I was doing all this because I was stalling. And probably I was, just a little bit. Ben and I hadn't talked much since the ferry incident two days ago, since I confessed to not telling him everything about my past. (Which sounds a lot more dramatic and soap opera–like than the actual situation. It wasn't as if I'd killed someone, or been married.)

“Why do they call it tartar sauce?” I asked as I spread a spoonful onto the bun. I knew that was harmful to my health, because tartar sauce must be higher in cholesterol than, say, fried fish pieces, which were also stacked high on my sandwich. “I mean, what is tartar about it? What is a tartar, anyway?”

“I don't know, but my toothpaste says it removes tartar.” Ben grinned at me as he ripped open a straw and poked it into his lemonade.

“Gross!” I cracked open my little carton of milk. A child's portion. So unfair. I sipped my milk and looked across the picnic table at Ben. I tried to smile a little. I felt so vulnerable, sitting there. And it wasn't because seagulls were circling overhead, just hoping I was going to drop a crumb. It was the feeling that I had no idea what was going to happen next. Ben seemed to be okay with me now. If he was angry two days ago—and he was—then he'd somehow gotten past that. Or was he just being nice because he wanted to break up with me, and eating lunch together was the easiest and kindest way he could think of?

But no, Ben wouldn't be that heartless. He'd never tell me something difficult in public, least of all at my workplace. He'd come and find me, alone, or suggest we take a walk, or—

Wait a second. Why am I thinking of ways he could break up with me?
I thought as I dabbed tartar sauce off the corner of my mouth. I had this tendency to think things through a little
too
much, envisioning things in the future while I completely missed the present.

Or, as my first grade report card said, “Prone to daydreaming.”

“So, busy today?” Ben asked.

“Ridiculously busy, yeah. I think I had a snack at like eleven, and I haven't had a chance to sit down since,” I said. “This is nice.”

“Yeah, it is.” Ben paused. “Sorry I've been kind of—”

“No, it's okay,” I said quickly.

“Not really,” he said. “I kind of acted like a jerk about it. It was just—it really came out of left field. I wasn't expecting it. I mean, I guess I remember you or Haley talking about someone from last summer …”

“You do?” I asked.

“Vaguely.”

Phew. Vaguely
was
the best way to remember Evan, especially if you were Ben.

“But why didn't you tell me?” he asked.

“I really thought I'd never see him again. Maybe that was stupid, but that's what I thought. Trudy said he wasn't coming back this year. And I hadn't heard from him since last fall, so—”

“Yeah, but why didn't you tell me, like, the day he showed up? You waited a week,” Ben said.

“I was nervous?” I said. In fact, I'm still nervous? And couldn't we have this conversation a
little
farther away from the building? And couldn't I get a few more shifts that weren't the same as Evan's? It was like a Trudy conspiracy.

“Yeah. Well, I can understand that, I guess. I was just really surprised. But I'm over it now. I realized that I probably haven't told you every single thing about my exes, either,” Ben said.

“You haven't?” I asked.
Hold on a second,
I thought. What exes was he talking about? And why was it plural, as if there had been a lot of them?

“No. And I'm probably not going to, unless there's a point, unless there's some reason why I need to, because that's all in the past,” Ben said. “Like you and that Evan guy. And I understand you had to tell me, since he showed up here unexpectedly.”

Is Ben the greatest guy on the planet or what? Well, maybe not the planet, but definitely this one little self-enclosed subplanet.

“Thanks for understanding.” I stood up and leaned across the table so I could kiss him on the cheek.

“You're welcome,” he said.

I sat back down and started eating my sandwich again, this time with a little more appetite for it. So I had nothing to worry about. Ben knew now; case closed.

“So.” Ben popped another French fry into his mouth. “Is he here?”

“Is who here?”

“Colleen.”

“Oh,
him
. You mean … him him,” I said.

Ben smiled. “I don't know. What does that mean?”

I had to laugh. I really was being slightly psycho about this, I knew that. “Well, he's inside still, I guess.”

“Is he one of those guys?” Ben pointed with a French fry at the restaurant.

I looked over my shoulder as I heard the back door close. A group of co-workers had just come out of the restaurant, and they were walking over to take another picnic table. “Yeah. He's over there,” I said.

“Well, which one
is
he?” Ben asked, laughing. “Or is this supposed to stay a secret? Well, hold on, I know Rick … and Chad—”

“He's the one with the … um …” Nice ankles? Somewhat handsome stubble? Triathlete body? How did you describe one boyfriend to another? “Birkenstocks.”

“Colleen. I can't see
shoes
from here,” Ben said. “They're all sitting down.”

“Well, he's kind of …” I was about to mention the brown hair, green-blue eyes, and short sideburns when Evan noticed we were both staring at him. He popped a straw into his mouth and waved at us. “He's the one waving at us,” I said as I quickly waved at him, then turned back around with a nervous feeling in my stomach.

Oh, God. This was the most uncomfortable situation I had ever been in, the most awkward minute of my entire life. Evan, waving at Ben. What next? Were they going to talk? Shake hands? Sit at the same table with me?

“Maybe I'd better head back inside to work,” I said. “Since they're all taking breaks now, Trudy probably needs me.”

“Okay, but what about tonight? Can we get together tonight?” Ben asked.

“Of—of course,” I said. “I'd love that. I'll be home at ten—or do you want to pick me up here?”

“That sounds like a good idea. Maybe we can go down to the beach for a little while.”

“See you then!”

I knew Ben wanted me to kiss him good-bye, but I just couldn't. I felt so awkward, like I didn't want Evan to see me with Ben, and I didn't want Ben to see me with Evan. But that was ridiculous, because I wasn't doing anything wrong, I wasn't cheating on anyone. It
felt
like it, though.

Even though everything was supposedly out in the open now, I still felt like I was keeping things from both of them. I was acting like someone in a cheesy love song, the kind my mom would play loudly while she was doing housework, the kind I usually said “ick” to.

Now I was living an ick life.

The rest of the day was just as crazy at work, which was okay with me. Keeping busy was a good thing—and I was making more money than I could count.

I bumped into Evan at around eight, when I was refilling my water and iced tea pitchers.

“Is this the busiest Saturday you can remember?” he asked. “My feet are killing me.”

I glanced down at his sandals—a new pair, a different kind—and decided not to comment this time on the fact that he should wear running shoes, that he might be more comfortable, that sandals were banned. If he wanted to be in pain, fine, good, that was his business, not mine. Not this year.

“So, who was that guy you were eating lunch with?” Evan asked as he filled a couple of pitchers with ice.

Oh, no. Here it came. More ick. “That was Ben,” I said.

“Ben,” Evan repeated. “Ben … who?”

“Ben … my boyfriend Ben. My boyfriend,” I stammered.

Evan stopped mid–ice shovel. “Oh. You have a boyfriend?”

“Well, yeah. I do.” I dropped a couple of lemon slices into the pitcher of water, and realized I'd meant to drop them into the iced tea. So, the water would have a nice crisp taste now. I dropped lemon slices into the iced tea and was about to bring the pitchers out to my tables when Evan said, “Interesting. Very interesting.”

I stopped and turned around. “Would you stop saying that about everything? What's interesting about it, anyway?”

“Aha! Are you saying he's not interesting? Or maybe you're not interested in him?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Don't flatter yourself.”

“I was flattering myself? I didn't realize. Usually I'm a lot more demonstrative when I do that. As in, Evan, you have the best—”

Ankles,
I thought, but thankfully my mouth didn't open.
Stop that, brain. Stop that right now
.

The swinging doors flew open and Trudy stood there with a stack of menus in her arms. “Evan, Colleen, come on—you've got three new tables apiece.”

“Aren't we supposed to get a break at some point?” Evan asked. “I mean, a lobster takes breaks, Trude. A lobster can't keep going and going and going. Not even with eight legs.”

“Yeah, every now and then a lobster has to stop and smell the roe,” I said, quoting a T-shirt joke Evan had come up with last summer, along with one that said “Dip Into Something More Comfortable,” with a picture of a butter dish. He had even gotten a few fake T-shirts printed up with that slogan, to try to convince Trudy to use them, but the T-shirt shop had messed up and spelled Bobb's as “Boob's.” So Trudy wasn't convinced, but he kept them and wore them for running.

We smiled at each other and then started laughing.

“You two.” Trudy shook her head. “Same as always.”

No, we're not, I wanted to say. We're not the same—things aren't the same! We weren't back here together because we were trying to sneak in a moment alone, so we could kiss by the fluorescent glow from the food-warming lamps.

Yeah, that
is
as tacky as it sounds, and we'd done it last year. How embarrassing.

“Come on, Trude. Cut us a break. Has anyone else been working since ten
A.M
. straight?” Evan asked.

“Well, I have,” Trudy said. “Now run—your tables are waiting.”

“I can't believe we're still seating people, and it's almost nine o'clock,” Evan complained.

“We're not getting out of here at ten, are we?” I muttered.

I'd have to call Ben and cancel our plans. The way this summer was going so far, I was spending more time at work than I was with Ben. Which meant, in a way, that I was spending more time with Evan than with Ben, even if I was only constantly bumping into him in the kitchen.

This was a trend that had to change. Soon. But how?

That night, Haley borrowed her family's pickup truck and drove down to Bobb's to get us when we were finally released. She knew that if we weren't home yet, we'd all be too tired to walk when we finally did get out of work. Erica called her grandparents and told them she would be sleeping over at our house. Then she sat up front with Haley, while Sam, Blair, and I all piled into the back of the truck. When we got home, it turned out Haley had bought ice cream and cookies for all of us, and the five of us sat on the porch and ate and talked and laughed until long after midnight.

Chapter 13

Sunday afternoon I was exactly where I wanted to be: lying on a giant towel on the beach, right next to Ben. It was pretty warm, and very sunny, and we'd just eaten a late breakfast together over at his house. I hadn't seen Ben's family in a while because I'd been so busy. It was cool to catch up with everyone and remember how nice things used to be before the summer started and we both got overworked and overtired.