The Season of You & Me (10 page)

“Really?”

“Yeah, she checked me out a little too much,” Cass said.

I laughed.

“How long have you been exes?”

It felt like eons ago. Another life. It hadn’t even been a year.

“She broke up with me in September of last year.”

“So you were together . . . before your accident?”

“Yeah, just about a year; things got a little complicated after that.”

We went a bit without saying much. Cass finally said, “Well, that’s awful.”

“I probably would have broken up with me too. I had a hard enough time getting used to my body, so I couldn’t expect her to be down with it too. It was tough though. I wasn’t the most upbeat person to be around my first few weeks home. She just, you know, couldn’t handle it. I don’t blame her.”

“And now you’re seeing someone else?”

“Um . . . no.”

She stopped. “You’re not?”

I shook my head.

“Oh, Tori said—”

“Tori said?”

She looked as if she was sorry she’d brought it up. “She mentioned you were seeing her friend . . . Liv? The one whose place I took at Camp Manatee?”

I had no idea what Tori had said, but whatever it was, it had given Cass the wrong impression. “We hooked up a few times, went to prom, but that’s it. I’m not with anyone at the moment. Well, except you, here.”

“Oh,” she said. We continued down the promenade. Had I shared too much? I hadn’t anticipated having a conversation about my exes.

“So what about you? Who are you trying to show you’re having the best time in the world without them?”

She sucked the corner of her lip in thought, then looked toward the beach. For a moment I thought I may have asked too much but, screw it, I was curious.

“A guy. Gavin. My ex. He’s sort of the reason I’m here this summer.”

Thank you, Gavin.

She continued.

“The pictures are my friend Emma’s idea. Kind of a ‘screw you, this is war’—I mean, I used to love StalkMe, until . . . well, that’s how I found out he’d been, you know,
with other people. He has this flask—”

“He carries a flask?”

“I know, pretentious hipster bullshit, right? It’s not really even his flask, it’s his father’s, but anyway, he left it somewhere, and the person he left it with decided to take a picture and tag him, and me, and, well, then it just got messier. And yeah, here I am, trying to forget him and his stupid face.”

“That . . . sucks. Sorry.”

“I went to see the girl too. I was so humiliated by the whole thing and how it was just there for everyone to see and laugh about, and I was prepared to rip into her—it was someone he worked with, how cliché can I be here?—and then . . . when I saw her, I just couldn’t. There was something sad about her. She’s a year younger than me, and she looked so . . . like this had been the biggest thing that ever could have happened to her, and when she saw me she was scared, like I was going to tear her hair out, and I didn’t want to be that person. Of course Gavin swept her up in his special Gavin-ness. He’s good at it. I just hate how much the whole thing makes me doubt everything. Makes me doubt myself.”

“Wow,” I said.

“But, you know, it’s nothing, compared to . . . I know I’m making a big deal out of nothing. . . .”

“It’s not nothing, Cassidy. Breakups blow, no matter what happened.”

She laughed. “I guess.”

“Hey, can I see those pictures?”

She took out her phone and pulled them up, handed it to me.

I scrolled through the shots, each one better than the next. Then I found it, my favorite one. It was the least posed, the wind blowing her hair away from her face. She had this cute, natural smile—like she had just taken a bite of the ice pop and was laughing at something someone said off-camera. It was perfection.

“Here, post this one, that will get to him,” I said. She took the phone from me.

“Really? I was thinking more like this one,” she said, showing me one of the arched-back pouty ones.

“Can I be honest?”

“Um . . . okay, I think.”

“No denying this is hot, but it looks almost too—”

“Posed? Like I’m trying too hard?”

“Kind of.”

“Okay, agreed, the other one it is,” she said, pulling up the StalkMe app and chuckling. She read the caption to me. “‘Sea-salt caramel ice and the summer sun, another day in paradise.’ Sound good?”

“Perfect.”

Something had shifted between us, I wasn’t quite sure what—this wasn’t a date, it was hanging out, and maybe that’s what had made swapping stories about our exes easy,
comfortable. Every time I was around her, I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to study her face, find out what I had to say to make her smile.

“By the way, what I meant before—you would have totally fit in at Croft’s. I’m just glad, you know, you chose camp instead.”

She looked up from her phone and smiled.

“Me too.”

THE FOURTH OF JULY WAS INSANELY BUSY. EVEN
though I had off from camp, I’d been working all morning at Ocean Whispers. I helped Leslie make two batches of “Independence Muffins,” filled fancy glass bowls with homemade clotted cream, strawberry preserves, and blueberry jam, draped red, white, and blue bunting along the railings, hung the
No Vacancy sign underneath the regular one, watered flowers, and made raspberry lemonade from scratch, which was chilling in the fridge for afternoon tea. By eleven, I was ready to go back to bed. Instead I settled for hanging with Hunter and his kiddie pool in the yard, while catching up with Ems on the phone.

“Cass, well done with the bikini shot, but you need to be posting something like that every day. The picture of your
feet in flip-flops or a giant manatee mascot does not have the same effect.”

“You know I’m not a selfie person.”

“Pretend you are; keep ’em coming,” she said, the sound of hangers slapping together in the background as she searched her closet.

Hunter splashed me. “C’mon, Cass, come in.”

“I think I’ll pass on the ankle-deep water, thanks.” For some reason he found this hysterical and convulsed into a fit of giggles.

“Hey, I’m putting you on speaker, okay?” Emma said, her voice far away as she continued. “So, what fun, exciting thing are you going to be doing today? Please tell me your toes will be in the sand.”

“Nope, it’s wall-to-wall bennies down at the beach,” I said.

“Cassidy, you better scope out the fun places to hang out, because when this benny gets there in a few weeks, we are not going to be sitting around some sleepy little B&B, got me?”

“Yes, Ems. What are you doing today?” I asked.

She remained silent, but it was one of those very full,
I really don’t want to tell you what I’m doing
silences. It must have involved jerkface.

“You can tell me, really. I know it’s unavoidable.”

I heard drawers opening and closing. Emma was probably searching for the perfect outfit. My stomach ached with envy. Not because I wanted to be around Gavin, but because I
missed being around people and places I knew, was comfortable in. I missed Ems. I missed knowing I would always have something to do.

“The Henleys are having a pig roast today; apparently it’s a thing they do every year. I really don’t want to go, but Drew can’t stop talking about it.”

Gavin had mentioned the Henleys’ annual pig roast to me before, how much he hated it. How the whole thing always felt like it was more about his father trying to impress his business associates than just a family barbecue. How he used to have nightmares that the pig was still alive when they put it in the pit. How much he hated that it still looked like an actual pig.

“Sounds barbaric. Are they roasting Gavin?” Ems laughed.

“Yeah, well, there’s a pool and Drew and a martini fountain, so I’m going to focus on those things, and stay away from the pit. You’re not pissed, are you? I hate situations like this.”

I wanted to hug her for playing it down.

“Why would I be pissed? It’s not like I’m there and you’re bailing on me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You should wear the red halter top with the white stars, you look hot in that,” I said.

“Get out! I have that exact top in my hand, Cass; what are you, psychic?”

“If I were psychic, I think I could have avoided a lot of heartache,” I said.

“Ha, right? Gotta run, Drew will be here in, like, five minutes and I’m still not ready. Make sure you take more selfies! Hot ones! No more feet!”

“Sure, bye.”

Maybe I was a little pissed. Pissed that she was so excited, and I was sitting in a yard, two feet from a kiddie pool. I did have on my new bikini. Selfie time.

I slipped my shades back on, sat up, tilted my face toward the sun, and started snapping away. Hunter splashed me again.

“Please come in, Cassidy.”

I sighed and put my phone on the patio table. Maybe I wasn’t doing anything, but at least I had the cutest date. I scooted my chair closer to the pool.

“Hunter, I’ll take up the whole pool. Would you settle for this?” I asked, plunging my feet into the six inches of water.

“Yay!” Hunter sized up what exactly my feet and legs would serve in his imaginary world. In no time, his action-figure great white shark was swimming around my legs. I closed my eyes. The lazy sound of buzzing bees from the garden lulled me toward sleep. Who needed a pig roast and martini fountain anyway?

“Wade likes you,” Hunter said, not missing a beat with the shark, who he now had swimming toward a floating pirate island. I put my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun.

“What are you talking about?”

“He said you were pretty and stacked.”

“Wait, he said that to you?”

The pirate island overturned; Great White lunged for the pirates.

“No. To Bryan. What does stacked mean, anyway?”

“Um, tall. Does he know you heard him?”

Hunter shrugged. A screen door rattled shut. I turned to see Leslie coming down the deck stairs with a towel.

“Did Bryan say anything to him?” I asked. This was what my life had come to . . . grilling a six-year-old about guys.

“Nope,” he said, tossing the toy shark up in the air.

“Hey, buddy, time to get ready. Cass, is that what you’re going to wear?” Leslie held the towel open for Hunter.

“Wear? What do you mean?”

“We’re going to the Lakewoods’ this afternoon; didn’t your father tell you?”

“No, he didn’t. How much time do I have?” I was sticky with sweat and sunscreen.

“About half an hour.”

I raced upstairs to change.

The Lakewoods lived about twenty minutes from the main part of town. The roads were a little more winding, without many stops, and everything was so green. We passed farm stands selling tomatoes, fresh-cut flowers, home-baked bread—some even using the honor system, which would
never fly back home. This was another world entirely.

“I feel sick,” Hunter said.

“We’re almost there, sweetie, can you hold on? Do your breathing.”

Hunter squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, counted to five on his fingers, and let the breath out. Then he repeated it. I found myself following him as he continued. My stomach was queasy from the bumpy ride too. Finally Dad pulled down a narrow paved road lined with trees that opened up to a sprawling green lawn and a small yellow house that could only be described as cheerful. There was a porch with a swing and a ramp and so many hanging planters spilling over with brightly colored flowers. Several cars were scattered around on the grass. I spied Bryan’s car and felt a little jolt that put me on edge. Maybe it wasn’t the roads I’d been queasy about.

I helped Hunter out of his car seat and adjusted my shorts and halter top, the same top I’d told Ems to wear, only in blue, which I suddenly felt self-conscious about.
Why didn’t I wear a tee? Less skin showing
. Hunter grabbed my hand, or maybe I grabbed his—new things, new people, simultaneously exciting and scary—and we walked through a vine-covered archway that led to the backyard.

“Jeff! Leslie! You made it!” A woman with dark hair, Bermuda jean shorts, and a white blouse that tied in a knot at her waist came up to us. She tousled Hunter’s hair and gave me an approving once-over. “Cassidy?”

“That’s me.”

“I’m Angie Lakewood, Bryan’s mom. Well, Matt and Bryan’s mom, but I think you know Bryan from camp.”

I smiled. “Yes, I do.”

She took the serving dish from Leslie. “Will’s cooking brats and burgers, and if you’re at all interested in home brews, he made one special for today.” She looked over her shoulder and then back to us, lowering her voice. “I hear it’s sort of sour, so don’t feel bad about turning him down, lots of other options. Hey, Cass, would you put this in the kitchen on the table? Leslie, it smells amazing.”

“Her famous blueberry crumb cake. I can vouch for its amazingness,” my father said, putting an arm around Leslie’s shoulder. She turned bright red.

“Family recipe.”

“I hate blueberries,” Hunter exclaimed, then took off toward a group of little kids who were playing keep it up with a beach ball.

Mrs. Lakewood handed me the blueberry cake. “Bryan’s over there, honey.”

I searched the crowd for a familiar face. Mr. Beckett was there, looking more like an aged surfer dude than a polo-wearing camp director. Bryan was in his wheelchair and sitting with some people I didn’t know. I saw Tori with a few girls, and there was another group of guys and girls near a half-pipe on the far end of the yard watching someone on
a skateboard do tricks. And there I stood, alone, holding a blueberry cake. I walked in the direction Mrs. Lakewood had pointed and climbed the deck stairs two at a time.

I slid open the door and stepped into the kitchen. A tall, sandy-haired boy stood there with a cookie in his mouth, looking as if I’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t. I laughed, then realized who I was looking at. Last time I’d seen him he was hanging out of Bryan’s car. He bit into the cookie and smiled, putting a finger up to his lips. I placed the blueberry cake down on the table with the other desserts.

“Hey, I’m Cassidy.”

He swallowed. “I’m Matt, Bryan’s bro—”

“Brother who likes to hang out windows of cars and scare girls. We’ve sort of met before, haven’t we?”

“Oh, um, that,” he said, averting his eyes and finishing the cookie.

“Yeah, that.”

It was hard to be angry anymore. Face-to-face, in the kitchen, he was just a guy with a cookie in his mouth. He seemed smaller and definitely not as creepy. He resembled Bryan, but with more angular features, lighter hair. I was having fun making him squirm.

“Just my way of welcoming you to town.”

“You should really work on another way,” I said.

“I will,” he said.

I stepped back outside and did Hunter’s count-to-five
breathing trick. Bryan spotted me and waved. His smile was a beacon in an alien sea. I trotted down the steps and walked toward him.

“Hey, Cass,” Wade said, getting up. “Take a seat.”

Next to him was Tori, whose tight-lipped, quiet hello made me think twice about sitting down, but Wade’s outstretched hand and insisting smile wouldn’t have it any other way.

“What are you drinking?” he asked.

I blanked and shrugged. “Um, Sprite?”

“Sure; anyone else?” he asked, looking around before heading off to the table with the drinks.

“Didn’t realize you would be here,” Bryan said.

“Neither did I,” I said, smiling maybe a little too much. It was nice to see him. My body wanted to spring up and move closer, but I felt obligated to stay in the seat Wade had given up. Wade came back with my drink and another folding chair. He handed me the soda, then parked himself near Bryan.

“I hear you guys are kicking our ass with the scavenger hunt,” Wade said.

“I don’t know about kicking ass, but we did find two more clues this week,” I said. We were taking them one at a time. They’d been easy ones, in and around camp. One had led us to a towel, which we figured out pretty quick, and the other was about Monty. I kind of hoped the others would require more effort, like the day Bryan and I went to the promenade. It had been fun hanging out with him.

“It’s all Cass, I’m just there to write it down,” Bryan said.

“See, Tor, we gotta get moving,” Wade said.

Tori was busy scrolling through her phone. She looked up after Wade spoke.

“
We?
Really? Why don’t
we
just wait until the last minute like we did last year, and I’ll figure them all out.”

“We could work together,” I said to her.

She looked at me. “I think that’s against the rules.”

“I don’t think there are any rules,” Wade said.

“Whatever, we’ll figure it out,” Tori said. “Hey, by the way, everyone, Liv says hello. She’s in Galveston today.”

She scrolled through a few more messages. “And she’s going to Austin next week. She’s so lucky.”

“Why would you want to be anywhere else but here for the Fourth?” Wade said. “We have the better beaches.”

“She says a special hello to you, Bry,” Tori said. Bryan raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Should I say anything back?”

“Sure. Tell her I said happy Fourth.”

Tori shook her head and laughed, tapping away on her phone. Bryan looked at me. He’d told me the truth about Liv. I wasn’t sure why Tori kept this up, but it was suddenly clear that she wanted me to believe that Bryan was involved with Liv, even though he really wasn’t. I just didn’t understand why. Did she not think I was good enough? Not that I wanted to be involved with Bryan in any other way than friendship, but it still got me a little steamed. I’d done nothing to Tori,
had even gone out of my way to be nice, and she still kept me at arm’s length.

“Here, look, Cass, this is Bryan and Liv at prom,” Tori said, handing me her phone.

Liv was pretty in a bodycon cobalt dress, her light-brown hair in a curly updo. Bryan wore a black suit with a tie that matched her dress. She was sort of draped over Bryan in his wheelchair. They were on the dance floor and they both looked like they were having a great time. Tori reached over and scrolled to a group shot. I recognized her and Wade and even a few of the kids at the barbecue now. My throat tightened. I shifted in my chair.

“Did you and Wade go together?” I asked.

“No,” she said, a little too forcefully. Wade flinched.

“Sheesh, Tor, if I’d asked you would it have been that bad?”

Tori blinked a few times, then whispered, “Yeah, right.”

“What?” Wade asked. She turned her face to me and ignored him.

“You look really pretty. I had the same color dress,” I said.
I just never wore it
.

“Got any pictures?” she asked.

I was about to lie. It would have been easy just to say
no, I have a new phone
or something, but I didn’t care about the awkward anymore. “No, I ended up not going.”

Her face scrunched in confusion. “But you had a dress?”

“Yep, you can figure it out from there,” I said, getting up.
I walked toward the group near the half-pipe. I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone, could just stand there and watch. I didn’t even look back.