Maine Squeeze (16 page)

We don't have a big sandy beach on the island, because most of the land at the water's edge is very rocky and covered with trees, pine and otherwise (Maine
is
the Pine Tree State). But there's a small sandy beach where you can lie comfortably and watch the surf roll in—and swim if you're feeling either very very hot or very brave. The water temperature never gets all that warm.

We were enjoying having the time to ourselves to snuggle against each other. Everything was finally okay again, and it felt so perfect to be close to Ben like that. Nobody cuddled better than Ben. We fit together perfectly. He was gently moving strands of my hair off my face, and kissing me as he did that. I didn't know what I wanted more: to fall asleep with him holding me or to run off this beach and go somewhere more private together, like to a small cove, the way we did last summer when we ended up taking off our clothes and—

And then I stopped myself from thinking about it. Because that hadn't been Ben. That wasn't something Ben would do. It was too risky, too dangerous—what if somebody saw us? He'd never go for that idea.

That had been Evan.

A second later a shadow fell over us as someone stopped beside our towel.

Don't be Evan,
I thought.
Please don't be Evan going for a jog and stopping by to say hello
. It would be just like him to do that, now that he knew I had a boyfriend, and now that I was lying here next to Ben—thinking about Evan. He'd be able to tell I was daydreaming about him; he'd see it in my eyes somehow. He was devious and horrible like that.

“You guys mind if I join you?”

I squinted up into the sun and saw Haley standing over us. “Hey!”

She lifted the beach towel that she'd been carrying on her shoulders and shook it out. “Is it okay?”

“No, we want you to go sit over there,” Ben said, sitting up and resting on his elbows. He gestured to John and Molly Hyland, who were sitting underneath an umbrella where they'd both been reading and not speaking to each other since we got there. “With the Hylands.”

“Shut up.” Haley pretended to kick sand into his face. “How long have you guys been here?” She peeled off her T-shirt and shorts, revealing an orange floral bikini.

“Not long. Hey, is that suit new?” I asked. “It's nice.”

“Looking good, lass,” Ben teased her in a bad Scottish accent, for some reason.

“Again. Shut up.” Haley grinned at Ben as she lay down on her towel beside me.

“Man, what a nice afternoon.” Ben turned onto his side, looking at both of us.

“I feel like this is the part of summer we kept talking about all winter, when we were freezing our butts off on the ferry every morning,” Haley said. “This was what kept us going.”

“That and the thermos of hot chocolate my mom kept packing for me every day.” Ben shook his head, embarrassed.

“Hey. At least she finally let you stop carrying that Superman lunchbox,” Haley said.

Ben laughed and collapsed on his towel. “Oh, man. What'll she pack when I go to college?”

Neither of us said anything for a minute. Thinking about the three of us splitting up to go to different schools was a little daunting. We'd gotten so inseparable senior year. The three of us had even gone to the prom together.

“Maybe it's not too late to change our minds and transfer. What do you guys say? We'll do one of those Internet schools so we can all stay on the island.” Haley rolled her T-shirt into a ball to use as a pillow.

Ben reached for my hand and squeezed it tightly. “Maybe we should. That way things could stay like this.”

I turned toward him and smiled, but as fond as I was of the island—and there's no place on Earth I like more—I was looking forward to the changes ahead. If only that being away made me realize that I wanted to come back here to live, and to be with Ben. But I didn't want to just stop looking at other options yet.

I knew they probably didn't, either—it was just this building fear we all had of leaving, of possibly being so homesick for this place that we wouldn't be able to stand it.

I was working on a new collage on Monday when I heard a loud laugh coming from the front porch.

A very familiar laugh.

And then I heard Blair's voice saying, “I'll be right back.”

I got up and peered out the window, but I knew I couldn't really see the porch, since it was below my window. That
laugh
, though. Had he come over to see me?

I heard Blair come upstairs and I opened my door, expecting Blair to be about to knock. But she wasn't. Instead, her bedroom door was just closing.

I went downstairs anyway. He had to be here to see me. Right?

The screen door closed behind me, and Evan asked, “So, you ready?”

“Ready for what?” I asked.

Evan looked up from the magazine he'd been reading. He had a baseball cap on and was wearing a pair of old, beat-up running sneakers without socks, khaki shorts, and an old Bobb's T-shirt that had a hole by the neck.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were going to be Blair,” he said.

“No. Not quite.” I smiled. “A little shorter, a little less … blond.”

We both looked at each other and did these awkward sort of nods. As in, Ahem, isn't
this
uncomfortable? At least I was uncomfortable.

Evan leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. He didn't seem uneasy at all. In fact, he almost looked like he was happy to be here.

“So this is the bachelorette house,” he said. “Funny, it looks the same as it did when your parents were here.”

“Yes, but have you been
inside
?” I asked. “We've painted the entire place pink.” Or at least late-afternoon lupine.

“I've been inside,” Evan said.

Before I could respond or even process that, Blair flounced through the door. “Ready!” she proclaimed. She was wearing a white polo shirt, blue shorts, and what looked like a brand-new pair of tennis sneakers. “Hey, Colleen. When did you get home?” she asked.

“I was … home,” I said slowly.

How she could come out of that messy, dirty room where the floor was covered with clothes and old coffee mugs sitting on the dresser and look so neat and put together was beyond me. Of course, looking like Blair was beyond me, period.

And then they announced they were off to play tennis. Tennis, of all things. I hadn't noticed the racket propped against Evan's chair, probably because I was trying very hard not to look at him.

“You don't play tennis,” I said to Evan.

“Sure I do,” he replied with a laugh. “I've been playing since I was a kid.”

“You have? But you never—”

“The thing is,
you
don't play tennis, Coll. That's the part you forgot.”

I could have picked up his racket and overhead-smashed him, right then and there. Did he have to be so smug? When he was here picking up another girl—my housemate, no less? Did he have no respect for me?

“She does play a mean game of cribbage, though,” Evan told Blair as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and secured it with an elastic.

“Cribbage?” Blair scoffed.

“You know, fifteen-two, fifteen-four,” Evan said, standing up.

“No. The only fifteens I know about are in tennis,” she said.

“Then I'll teach you how to play cribbage. Come on, let's go. See you, Colleen.”

“Yeah. Bye,” I said. Good riddance. Have fun. Don't trip over the net. No, do.

And then they took off, just like that. Oh, wasn't that nice; he was going to teach her to play cribbage. He only knew how to play because of me, because I taught him!

Now he was the expert?

I hated him. I loathed him.

And Blair was definitely not one of my favorite people right now, either. She knew I'd gone out with Evan, so why did she have to flaunt the fact that they were hanging out by bringing him here?

Of course, I didn't have any dibs on Evan. I knew that. It was still really incredibly awkward, though.

It's not about Evan,
I told myself.
It's about me and Ben. Just forget Evan
.

Still, I felt that I needed to blow off some steam, and also, Ben would be getting out of work soon.

I ran upstairs and cleared up my worktable. I put all my art materials away, closing the tubes and jars.

Then I got my bike out of the garage and started riding down toward the Landing.

On the way, I went past Betty McGonagle's house. Mr. McGonagle had died about five years ago, leaving Betty on her own. The house was at the top of a little bluff, and it had a gorgeous view of the water and the smaller islands in the distance. Betty was standing on her deck in front of an easel. Why did she even need to look at the ocean when she painted? I wondered. Didn't she have it memorized by now?

Blue here, white here, green here. This one would be called
Early Morning Sea Foam
, would be 5”x7”, and would sell for $45. No, wait—$39.99.

Stop being such a snob,
I told myself just as Betty looked up and noticed me approaching.

“Hello, Colleen!” she called to me. “How's your summer going?” Betty was in her mid-seventies. She tended to wear big denim shirts that invariably had paint drops on them, and she wore a scarf over her short, completely white hair. When she worked, anyway—I hardly ever saw her when she
wasn't
working, except maybe at public suppers and the post office occasionally.

“Great!” I called back.

“Any new pieces to show?” she asked. “Anything I can see?”

“Not yet—maybe soon!” I yelled. Then I coasted down the hill, feeling terrible.
She
was supportive and nice and interested in my artwork; I was mean, judgmental, and cruel about hers. She was a real artist who'd actually made good money selling her paintings; I displayed my stuff at an elementary school—and only because both my parents
worked
there. I was really awful.

On my way to the Landing I had to ride past the tennis courts. I had to. Really. And … ick.

Blair was standing at the net, practicing her volleys. Evan was hitting shots to her, and Blair laughed as she smashed a tennis ball that hit Evan's leg and nearly knocked him down.

I rang the little bell on my bike's handlebars in approval. “Go, Blair!” I yelled. Keep that up, would you? She waved at me and smiled. Evan didn't look nearly as happy to see me. I was tempted to hang out for a while, because I had a feeling Evan was going to get beaten, slightly badly. That would be fun to watch.

But the ferry was coming in soon, and I wanted to be there to see Ben when it did. So I continued on my way, regretfully.

When I reached the Landing, the ferry had already docked. I saw Ben walking off, talking to the tall redheaded girl again.

Why did he have to get his stupid sea legs, so he could flirt with that girl every day? What was her deal, anyway? She didn't even have a frizzone. It was ninety-five percent humidity, and she showed no signs of it. Come to think of it, she'd
never
had a frizzone.

Which could only mean one thing: She was wearing a wig. Extensions—that had to be it. I had to cling to
something
.

“Who is that girl?” I asked Ben after I gave him a kiss hello.

“That's Holly,” Ben said.

“And, uh, why does she seem to be on the ferry every afternoon?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Because she works on the mainland. She's doing an internship in a law office there, from eight to two every day.”

“Hm. Really,” I mused.

“Yes, really.” Ben laughed as he put his arm around my shoulder. “Why is that so fascinating?”

“It's just … why did we never see her before?” I asked.

“She's older than us. She's in college, home for the summer. You know.”

Yes, I did know. All about this painful pang of jealousy I was having, anyway.

First Evan with Blair, and now Ben and this … Holly. I was having a very jealous day. I didn't like feeling that way, especially on my day off, when I should be enjoying all things and not stressing about anything. It seemed shallow, and petty, of me.

But maybe that was how I was.

Chapter 14