The Season of You & Me (14 page)

I sighed. Sat up.

No.

Oh, no, no, no
.

I liked Bryan. A lot. The pleasant tingle, the flushed feeling, the way I couldn’t stop smiling at our picture together.
What did I think I was doing?

I came to Ocean Whispers to forget about a boy, not fall for one.

I sprang up from my bed, pulled on shorts and a tee, and went back downstairs to find Leslie. I purposely left my phone in my room. It was nothing but trouble.

There were five rooms in total to clean. Leslie made the beds; I did the light dusting, emptied the wastebaskets, and made sure each fresh flower arrangement still had enough water. It was the first time I’d spent more than a few minutes in the inn section of the house. Each room was decorated differently in some variation of floral and frilly, with antique furniture and doilies on every flat surface. While not exactly my taste, the rooms were warm and inviting. The fifth room was huge, the only one with a private bathroom and balcony with rocking
chairs. It was also the one we needed to turn over.

“This is our master suite, booked every day for the summer and through the fall,” Leslie said.

“It’s really nice,” I said, trying not to imagine what went on in the master suite. The room
was
pretty impressive, with a king-size four-poster bed and an electric fireplace. Quite the love nest. I helped Leslie pull off the fitted sheet and stuff it into the laundry bag.

“So why a bed-and-breakfast?” I asked. Leslie pulled the fresh fitted king sheet out from the linen pile on the rolling cart. She smiled, shrugged.

“It was sort of an impulse buy,” she said, her tone casual. She sounded as though she was talking about a pair of shoes. “Your father and I were down here, taking a long weekend one December, and we went on a house tour. Well, I went on a house tour, and dragged your father for as long as he could stand it. You’ve seen the town at Christmas, right? How magical it all looks? I just fell in love with it. The owner of this place talked about how she was moving to open another bed-and-breakfast in Taos, and we started talking, and before we both knew it, the touring time was over and she gave me her card and it all just . . . felt right. I could see us here.” She unfolded the fitted sheet and fanned it out. We started tucking the opposite corners.

“But you had such a cool job before,” I said.

She laughed as she tucked the sides. “I guess it was sort of
cool, the movie stuff, but that seems like a lifetime ago. My publicity skills have come in handy here. We were both ready to slow down a little bit. Ha, were we in for a surprise! You know, the guests who checked out today said they loved your quesadilla. I’d like to add it to my rotation. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

I smiled. It felt nice to hear the breakfast had been a hit. “I don’t really write anything down, but I guess I can.”

“Would you mind if we put it in the newsletter?”

“Really?”

“Yes, I . . . ooh.” Leslie leaned against the bed and put her hand up to her forehead.

“Feeling sick again?”

She nodded. “A little. Maybe I’ll go lie down after this. Do you think . . . could you help with afternoon tea, too? That’s really just putting things out and making sure they’re replenished for the hour. On a gorgeous day like this there might not be many back for tea, but you never know.”

“Sure, I’ll keep Hunter busy too,” I said, anticipating the moment he woke up from his nap, if he’d even taken one like Leslie had suggested.

“Thanks for letting him help, Cass. I should let him do that more often. He really loves having you around.”

Before heading down to tea, I raced up to my room and grabbed my phone. My heart lurched when I saw I had a voice mail, but then calmed when I saw it was from my
mother. I did owe her a phone call.

Afternoon tea consisted of pitchers of iced tea and lemonade, which I was relieved to find out, because who wanted hot tea when the street was melting? The cookies and fruit salad were already made, and service consisted of checking the table every once in a while to make sure nothing needed to be replenished and it all looked pretty. A lone woman sat on the front porch in a rocking chair, reading a book and sipping some iced tea. Another couple—the youngest I’d seen yet—came up, grabbed some lemonade and a plate of sweets, and wandered up to their room.

I sat down on the top step to call my mother.

“Hey, it’s me,” I said.

“Cass! We haven’t talked in forever, but I take that to be a good sign. How are things?”

“Let’s see, it rained all last week, so they canceled field day; Leslie was sick this morning, so I had to make breakfast for the guests. You know, same old, same old.”

“Wait, what? Really? What did you do?”

“I whipped up breakfast quesadillas. The ones I make sometimes at home.”

“Mmm . . . the ones with the cinnamon? Wow, Cass, I’m impressed. Is Leslie okay? Where’s your father?”

“Yeah, she thinks it’s just a twenty-four-hour thing. Dad’s fishing—some annual teacher excursion or something like that.”

“Fishing? I can’t picture that.”

“Me either,” I said. My father’s idea of outdoorsy was firing up the grill. I couldn’t imagine him on a boat trying to catch a living thing.

“So, I thought I’d come down next weekend for a visit; would you be up for it?”

“Yes, definitely. Is Nan coming too?”

“No, but I thought I might let Emma tag along, if that’s okay with you.”

I stood up. “Omigod, really? Emma!”

She laughed. “Why didn’t
I
get that reaction from you?”

“I’ll be happy to see you too,” I said.

“I’m getting a motel room for us, so we can all stay together.”

“You didn’t want to stay here?” I asked.

“There’s no vacancy,” she said. “Thought you might enjoy getting away for a night too.”

“When are you coming?”

“I figure we can come early on Saturday, maybe hit the beach, go out to dinner or something, then I’m sure you’ll want to show Emma around. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” I said.

Hunter clomped out onto the porch and sat next to me, playing a handheld video game.

“So we’ll see you then, Cass.”

“Bye,” I said, shutting down the phone.

“Oh, wow.” Hunter pointed toward the street. My father
pushed through the front gate holding a large, silvery-gray striped fish about three feet long, still attached to some sort of fishing line. Hunter put his game down and went sprinting toward him. My father grinned from ear to ear, his face ruddy from the sun. I picked up Hunter’s game and walked down the stairs to greet him and see what the giant fish was all about.

“Look at this! I wouldn’t even let them gut it for me. I have to show this to Leslie, she’ll never believe it. I’ve been on this trip four years in a row and this is the first time I’ve ever caught anything.”

He took off toward the back door before I had the chance to say anything.

“Hey, um, Dad,” I said, following him with Hunter at my heels now too. Dad was like a little kid, racing toward the yard with his prize. By the time we reached the back deck, he was in the kitchen. We took the stairs two at a time and followed him inside. Leslie was sitting at the table, cup of tea and magazine in front of her.

“Ta-da,” he exclaimed. “Four years and I finally caught something.”

Hunter ran his hand along the fish. “Ew, it’s slimy.”

“Les, what’s wrong? I thought you’d be thrilled for me.”

Leslie’s face contorted. She got up from the chair, leaned over the sink, and vomited.

A couple of hours later, Ocean Whispers was as quiet as its name implied. The offensive striped bass had been taken out somewhere to be gutted, cleaned, and then grilled at home by Dad with some rosemary and garlic and fingerling potatoes. Leslie had turned in early, Dad was busy working on something in his office, and Hunter begged me to watch some special on great whites to kick off Shark Week.

In the midst of all the excitement, Bryan had texted me about meeting up with him, Wade, and Tori at Sip N’ Freeze. I wanted to go, I did. The thought of him and his blue eyes made that pleasant warmth rise up again. Definitely not safe. Sure, he would be a distraction, but . . . that’s not what I wanted him to be. He deserved more than that. Maybe I was wimping out by staying in, but I didn’t care. I was taking Tori’s advice. I was being careful with him.

I texted Bryan.

Helped at inn.

Kind of tired.

See you Monday.

I knocked on the doorframe to Dad’s office and wandered in. He was dozing lightly in his office chair, the
Whispers Weekly
newsletter up on his computer screen.

On the first page was a headline for my breakfast quesadilla. I laughed. It made it seem so official. My father startled.

“Hey,” he said.

“You put my recipe in the newsletter.”

He yawned. “Well, it was all Hunter could talk about. Thanks for today, Cass. Leslie said she couldn’t have managed without you.”

“It was fun, I guess. Interesting to see how you guys run things. It’s tough.”

He laughed. “Yes, it can be sometimes. Did you want something?”

“Just wanted to see if you were going to watch that shark thing Hunter keeps talking about. I think it starts in ten minutes . . . I came out to make some popcorn.”

“You’re staying in tonight?”

I nodded. He smiled.

“Give me a few minutes. I’ll be in.”

“YOU REALLY WANT ME TO BELIEVE YOU BLEW US
off on Saturday night because you were watching shark shows with Hunter?” I said.

“It’s Shark Week, did you know that? It’s like a national holiday in Hunter’s world. And I told you, he helped me out at the inn, I had to do something for him.” Cass splashed me. I paddled away, trying not to smile.

“You missed a great time,” I lied. It hadn’t been awful, but it wasn’t the best Saturday night in history either. It was just a night with Wade and Tori and some of the other guys hanging out. Something I hadn’t done in a while, and it felt good being around actual people instead of on a raid on
Realm Wars
. What I’d really been looking forward to was seeing Cass outside of camp again. I wanted to know her. And sometimes
I even had the feeling she wanted to know me better too.

She was swimming with me, and that meant something, didn’t it? There was a reason she kept getting up early, burning through towel duty, and hanging out with me. Sometimes I even believed it—that she could like me
that way
—but I didn’t know how to pursue anything more. One moment I was sure we were friends, and completely content with it, then the next she would pout, or smile, or hell, breathe next to me and I ached for more. I was starting to want it too much, especially if she didn’t, and I’d settle for being around her, even if it meant we were just friends.

I grabbed the pool noodles and set myself up to float. Cass still splashed in the other lane, then without warning popped up next to me, spitting water in the air as she broke the surface. I laughed.

“I think I just heard a piano version of ‘Pompeii’ underwater—please tell me I’m not crazy,” she said, blinking the water out of her eyes.

“You probably did; that’s Owen’s version of being cutting-edge.”

“Hey, is there room for two?” she asked, grabbing one end of the noodle.

She needed to stop saying things like that to me.

“You can try,” I said.

She put her head back next to mine, but let her legs drift up in the water instead of throwing them over the other
noodle. We floated like that for a moment, but it was far from my usual blissed-out solo cooldown. Not that I minded—we were so close, even in the water I could feel the heat coming off her skin.

“Did you know otters hold hands?”

“You sound like H-bomb now,” I said.

She laughed. “It’s true. Didn’t you ever see that video where they’re floating and then all of a sudden the one takes the other’s hand, like this?”

Cass entwined her fingers through mine. I didn’t resist. She pulled us closer together. She was only touching my hand, our forearms kissing, but it felt incredible. A #wheelchairperk of my permanent nerve rewiring. New turn-on zones. My heart pounded so much I was sure it would cause the water to ripple.

“They do that so they don’t drift apart when they’re sleeping, isn’t that the cutest thing?”

Cassidy. Was. Holding. My. Hand.

“Otters!” Jena pointed at us and smiled.

“Yes, like the video; you’ve seen it, right?” she asked. Jena nodded.

We floated like that for a few minutes, until she finally let go and treaded water next to me.

“By the way, I requested to be in your group for field day,” she said.

“Cool. Hunter will be happy,” I said.

“Will you be happy?”

“You picked the best group to be with,” I said.

“I
could
have helped Monty with the dance party.”

“Hmm . . . tough choice, I guess.”

“So, what do we do at field day that’s so different from any other day?”

“Much more organized fun. At the beach. That’s about it.”

“Oh, is that . . . will you . . . how will you get to the beach?”

“Think you could give me a piggyback ride?” I said, as deadpan as I could possibly manage. She stood up in the water, brow crinkled, curvy mouth bunched up. I sat there enjoying her face until I couldn’t stand it any longer. “No worries, I got it covered.”

She splashed me.

Field day was never something I had looked forward to in school. For me, organized sports meant searching for obstacles to grind with my skateboard or a day shredding in the surf.
That
I could get behind, but dividing into teams, playing games with rules and prizes—not so much.

Camp Manatee field day was different though. It was more about spending the day on the beach, and we had a rotation for activities, so only one group would be at one station at a time. We had a couple of planned games, a sand-castle challenge, an organized ocean swim, and the big finale before we went back to the rec center for quiet time was going to be a
dance party led by Monty. How Nick was going to pull that off in a-thousand-degree heat I wasn’t sure, but it would be fun to watch.

The one part I was dreading was having to use the all-terrain wheelchair, because it required someone to push me around. Maybe I was overthinking it—I’d only been to the beach with my family a handful of times since my mishap. Bottom line: it took effort, planning, special wheels to deal with the sand, and the one thing I’d liked about going to the beach before was that it was a no-brainer. Sometimes it sucked to be invisible, to have people talk over you or around you or about you, like I was deaf instead of para, but the opposite sucked even harder. It was impossible to
blend
. I guess if I were a kid and saw some dude being pushed around in a big-wheeled chair I’d be interested too, it’s just—I hated being the center of attention for it.

The kids were over-the-top excited for the beach, moving like little pinballs knocking into each other down the hallway. The beach was only a block away, so we were heading over in our individual groups. Both Cass and Tori were with us. The kids held on to a long rope, so no one would get separated. Cassidy led everyone across the street.

“So where is this four-wheelin’ wheelchair?” Wade asked.

“It’s supposed to be waiting at check-in—you sure you’re okay pushing me around?” I asked.

“Ugh, dude, what a drag,” Wade said.

“Can I push you?” H-bomb asked.

I laughed. “You’re here to have fun, buddy, not worry about me.”

The sun was strong, and we’d been told to take water and sunscreen breaks every forty-five minutes. Water sooner if necessary. We sprayed sunscreen on the kids before heading out to the sand. When I’d gone as far as I could on the wooden walkway, I stopped and waited. There was no other chair in sight. Wade looked from side to side. The kids sort of pooled around me. Sweaty, sticky, and whining—it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.

“Mr. B.’s supposed to be here, right?” Wade asked.

“Yep.” More campers arrived, stopping out of instinct at the traffic jam we were causing. I waved for them to go around us. Owen came rushing over, red-faced and slightly out of breath. There was a section of the beach marked off by several large Camp Manatee banners. No chair in sight.

“Wait, guys, you need wristbands,” he said. He fumbled around with his clipboard and gave Wade a handful of purple strips. He gave the counselors behind us some too.

“Hey, Mr. B., do we have the chair for Bryan?” Wade motioned with his head to me.

“Yes, sorry,” he said, eyeing the growing line behind us. Our kids had wrapped themselves up in the rope they’d been holding and started to spin in a giggly circle.

“It’s over there next to the shade tent. Could you get it, Wade? I meant to have it over here. Time got away from me. Sorry, Bry.”

“It’s cool,” I said. Wade handed me the wristbands and walked off to get the chair. I whistled for the kids to cut it out.

“Come here, guys, you need wristbands.” They bombarded me with questions.

I hate things around my wrist.

Why purple?

Do we have to wear it all day?

I whistled again.

“Dudes, stop. Do you want to make sand castles? Play giants, wizards, and elves? Then calm down so I can put these wristbands on you—these are your tickets to as much fun as you can handle,” I said, motioning for Hunter to be the first. He beamed and held out his wrist while I wrapped it around him and peeled off the adhesive to secure it. “Next.”

By the time Wade got back with the beach-access chair, the kids were all wristbanded up and raring to hit the sand.

“Oh, cooooool,” they crooned as Wade stopped the chair in front of me. The rec center had zero budget, so they didn’t have one of those tricked-out motorized beach chairs. They had your basic beach-access chair, which, to be honest, was goofy as hell to look at, with fat wheels that still sank in the sand. The worst part was I couldn’t use it on my own. I needed someone to push me around. Wade shooed the kids away from the chair and studied my face.

“C’mon,” he said, crouched down. “I’ll give you a lift over.”

I held on to his shoulders and he bent lower to grab my legs. In one motion he stood and hoisted me up a little
farther onto his back. I kept my eyes forward, not wanting to see anyone’s reaction. It was a short walk to the chair. He crouched down again and helped me position myself. The kids actually fought over who could help him push me. Colby handed me my backpack and we moved along to our first activity. Games.

I supervised as they played giants, wizards and elves, but got involved during volleyball, where I didn’t need to move from one side of the makeshift court to the other. Cass was on the opposite team and we volleyed a few times.

After a water and sunscreen break, we took our turn at the sand-castle station. I was self-appointed general contractor, with Colby as my right-hand little dude.

“We need more water; the sand needs to stick together better than this,” I said, directing them how to build a base. Cass took Hunter and some of the other kids to get more water and to collect shells to decorate. When they got back, she knelt next to me, and stacked sand for a tower.

“You’re taking this very seriously,” she joked.

“Sand castles are serious business,” I said. “It’s all about the sand-to-water ratio. Too little water, it’ll all fall apart before you even start. Too much and you’ll end up getting a shapeless mound. Consistency is key. My dad used to build epic sand castles when we were little, so I guess I’m geeking out.”

“It’s nice.”

“It’s nothing right now; we don’t have much time so we
have to keep it simple, a few towers maybe.”

“No, it’s nice to see you so . . . relaxed. You smile differently when your guard is down.”

She noticed my smile?

“It’s good being out of the rec center, I guess.”

“Yeah, something different, right?” she said, stacking another handful of sand onto the pile that was now ready to be shaped into something. “I’ll go get some more shells. Let’s trick this thing out.”

I laughed. “Cool.”

She grabbed a pail and asked for volunteers. Five hands shot up.

“C’mon, guys. Hey, Bry, want to sit together for lunch?”

Like she really had to ask.

After lunch and a bathroom break, it was swim time for our guys.

“Do you want to be by the water?” Wade asked.

Did I want to be by the water? I wanted to be in the water, on the water, one with the water. Deep dark blue, with the sun glinting off the waves . . . I could only imagine how good it would feel, that first shocking plunge, taking the edge off. There were too many variables though. I had no control.

“Nah, I’ll stick with the shade, I’m getting a little overheated anyway.” Another #wheelchairperk—anytime I mentioned a physical issue, people never questioned it.

“Okay.”

Wade pushed me over to the tent.

Cass was by the water’s edge, Hunter and Colby next to her. Colby kept running away from the surf, while Hunter tried to grab his hand and drag him into the water. At one point Cass took both of their hands to go a little farther into the surf, the waves lapping at their ankles. Lucky kids.

I closed my eyes and imagined I was the one holding Cass’s hand, standing next to her, racing out to the waves, pulling her into the water. We could hold hands and float like . . . what was that . . . otters.

“Hey, no sleeping on the job.”

I opened my eyes. Cass was there, running a towel up and down her legs. She fanned it out when she was done and sat on it.

“Just chilling for a moment; these little dudes can wear you out,” I said.

She leaned on her hands and dropped her head back, stretching her neck. No blue bikini today, but Cass could probably wear a rain tarp and still look amazing.

“So this is what all the fuss is about?” she said.

“The fuss about what?”

“The sun, the sea, the sand—you know, the reason people flock here to roast in the rays and eat fudge.”

“Yeah, I guess it doesn’t suck,” I said.

“You sure you don’t want to go by the water? I don’t mind pushing you down there,” she said.

“I’m cool here, wanted to get out of the sun anyway.”

Wade was with Colby and Hunter now. He was kneeling in front of Colby and pointing toward the water. He splashed him with some of the foam from a wave.

“So how was Colby by the water? He gets scared in the pool.”

“Yeah, he was a little freaked. Hunter’s funny though, trying to get him to go in. I swear, that kid wants to find a shark and ride it. I keep telling him one bite and he’s a goner, but I think he’s convinced he’s the shark whisperer or something.”

“You know, if anyone could be, I’d put my money on H-bomb.”

“Ha, I think you’re right.”

“There you are,” Tori said, shielding her eyes from the sun and looking at Cass. “We have to hand out the ice cream cups at this dance party. I can’t wait until quiet time, I’m wilting.”

“You could hang out in the water with Wade,” Cassidy said.

Tori stepped under the canopy. “Or I could just stay in the shade. We need to be stationed here, otherwise we’ll be handing out cups of ice-cream soup. I’m going to suggest that to Mr. B.”

Wade came up behind Tori and shook out his hair, sending droplets of water onto her. She arched her back to get away from him.

“Wade, I managed to stay dry all day. Thanks.”