Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Harper

Ms. Connelly gave me a warm smile, standing up from the rocking chair she had by the window in the colonial-style bungalow shop and heading over to the register.

“Harper,” she said. “Getting out of the house a bit, are you?”

“Yeah, well… it’s spring, so you know. Starting to come alive a bit more.”

She hummed, waking up the tablet the register was on. Ms. Connelly was a woman in her late seventies, with the most adorable perfect old-lady perm, straight out of Golden Girls. She’d had a divorce just four years ago with the man she’d been with all her life and had just resigned herself to being with, talking herself down for the longest time that she was too old to start over, but she’d been pure sunshine ever since. She’d bought this cozy little house by the water and set up the sunroom as a rental shopfront for water equipment, although it was usually quiet here—I think she liked it that way, just getting to sit under the hanging baskets of flowers and read her mystery novels. She always outpaced Nancy on reading goals, and I knew from Anders that Nancy had an eternal grudge against her for it.

“Well, it’s good to see you,” she finally settled for saying. “Oh, I forgot to mention—the strawberries and cream cake, it was delicious. Nick loved it.”

“Your son was in Bayview?”

“Just for that weekend. You know, I keep trying to convince him to live here full-time, but he’s on about his nice house in DC… always trying to one-up the neighbors. Well, if I can get him to keep trying your cakes, that might just do the trick.”

Well, that would hardly work when I had one foot out the door, but… Ms. Connelly didn’t need to know that. Or—she kind of did, because she was a pretty regular customer too, but it was so much easier to tell myself I’d take care of it another day. “I’ll keep an eye out for nice houses that are up for sale. Then he can impress his neighbors here.”

“You’re a peach. What can I get for you, then?”

“Oh, er.” I scratched my head. “I’m looking to rent a floating camper.”

Her face lit up. “Oh, are you, now?”

I looked away. “Don’t make it weird. I’ve just always wanted to try and never really got around to trying it.”

“Paisley convinced you, didn’t she?”

“It’s not that… I can make decisions for myself, too, you know.”

She just smiled knowingly as she tapped away at the screen, and I burned.

Still, it wasn’t long before I was out at the water’s edge, and I had the bright yellow and blue inflatable on the sand in front of me, kneeling and fumbling around inside it to get the tent part of it pitched properly. Paisley was late, because the woman had a god-awful sense of timekeeping and I had no idea why I of all people was attracted to someone who couldn’t keep time, and I was going to jab a hole in the damn thing and let it drown at the rate it was giving me a headache, and I finally gave up and texted her.

Paisley where the hell are you?

She replied immediately. oh shoot!!! I thought we said ten omg I’m cominggggg I’m just getting bubble tea please still love me

I rubbed my forehead. This woman was going to be the death of me. She was a good reminder why I was leaving this damn town. Just getting away from her was reason enough.

She texted again. do you want anything? they have tea!

yeah, of course they have fucking tea. no, I’m good, I just want you to hurry up.

Ugh… I kind of did want bubble tea, now that she asked. The brown sugar milk tea—whatever Dani did to make it, it wasn’t like anything I’d had anywhere else, and I was deeply craving it now that I’d thought about it, but I wasn’t going to go back and tell Paisley I did want one. That would be mortifying.

So I went back to setting up the camper, and I’d finally finished getting the tent up and had it sitting while the inflator pump ran when I got another text from Paisley, a shot of her hands carrying two drinks. She’d… gotten me the brown sugar milk tea. She got it with half sugar, the way I liked it, too. I sighed. I had no idea how I was supposed to pretend I wasn’t enjoying it.

I guess I’m having bubble tea. also, how did you take that picture? your hands are full

She replied right away. paisley has her ways.

Right. So she did. The fewer questions I asked, the better.

At least Paisley had picked a good day for a break, not that I imagine she’d thought about that at all—the air was cool and a nice breeze off the ocean kept it feeling brisk and fresh, but the clear-sky sunlight was warm. The air smelled fresh, clean, the salty scent of the ocean mixing with the smell of fresh grass and young flowers, and I breathed it in deep knowing I’d probably never get that feeling again.

Every place had its individual smell, and no matter where I went, it would never smell exactly like Bayview did in the spring again—that specific combination of aromas that felt like opening up the door and seeing the sunlight again. And if this was my last time taking a day off to go out and breathe it in…

This was what leaving always felt like, I knew. I had to get used to this kind of life. Bayview wasn’t the last place I was going to have to leave.

“Yo, Harps,” Paisley’s voice called from behind me, and I turned to face her and genuinely, honest-to-god would have kept looking for her if I didn’t see the two cups of bubble tea in her hands.

She looked like a completely different person. She’d switched out the oversized sweater and shorts for a matching set of black sports bra and leggings, both printed with a sleek minimal design, and had a striking yellow coat pulled on over top, her hair pulled back into a ponytail and through the back of a baseball cap—I didn’t think I’d ever once seen her with her hair up, or with a hat. High-top sneakers with a color splash design finished the look, which might have been the first time I saw her wear something other than her ratty old tennis shoes.

And she didn’t have her glasses on. I wouldn’t have recognized her without the big round glasses alone. Everything else? If I hadn’t heard her voice, I’d have thought she’d asked someone else to deliver the tea for her.

She took quick steps from the paved path down onto the sandbar, and she thrust the brown sugar tea into my hands. “Don’t just stand there gawking. You could say hi. You know, the polite thing to do?”

“Uh—hi.” I flushed, it suddenly setting in that it actually was Paisley. She was… well, she’d always been more attractive than I wanted to admit, but this look—it worked better for her than I’d have ever imagined. “So… should I assume the reason you’re late is because you had to go shopping for clothes?”

“That took, like, thirty minutes. The reason I’m late is because I had to dig out my contacts and clean them. I probably need a new pair because I’ve had a new prescription since I got these, but I’ll do that another time. So? I look hot, right?”

My throat suddenly felt like it was coated with sand. I looked away. “You certainly went all-out with the restyle.”

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw her shoulders slump. “Yeah… just, you know, just trying stuff. It’s the only way to know what works. I guess it’s an exploration.”

Shit, she thought I hated it. Even just out of the corner of my eye, I could see she was mortified. I put a hand to my forehead. “Ugh, all right, fine. Yeah. You look good. It, uh… works well on you.”

She snorted, looking away, sipping her tea. “Oh my god, even I don’t want pity compliments, Harps. How pathetic do I look?”

“No—it’s not a pity compliment, just…” The inflator pump went quiet behind me, and I turned to where the camper was ready, sitting on the sand close to where the waves lapped. It was taller than I’d expected once it was inflated—I wasn’t exactly riding a lot of inflatable dinghies, so I hadn’t really realized how big they got. Paisley followed my gaze.

“This our pimped-out ride?”

“Pimped-out ride. Is that what we’re going with?”

“I call dibs,” she said, ducking in through the tent flap and sprawling on her back inside. The sight made my chest feel tight—Paisley looking like this spread out all casual-cool looking up at me with that playful look in her eyes, waiting for me to climb into a small, private space with her. I swallowed. Why had I thought this was the thing to suggest? Especially after we’d had sex on a boat the other time, something about being out on the water with her again…

“Pais,” I sighed, forcing myself to look away. “Do you think maybe we should put it on the water before we get in?”

“You can move it with me in it.”

I scowled. “What do I look like, your assistant?”

The worst look I’d ever seen flared over her eyes. “Someone who knows how to follow directions,” she said, her voice low, and I—my throat felt suddenly tighter, and I felt myself blush, hard. Dammit. I knelt and zipped up the tent flap, if only so Paisley wouldn’t see how red I was.

“I’m going to push you as hard as I can,” I said. “Better hold on tight to that tea.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said lightly. Dammit. I didn’t know why this woman always won with me.

I dragged the thing along the sand, and I felt Paisley’s weight inside lurch as she shifted, laughing and squealing as it moved. It wasn’t as hard to move with her in it as I’d expected—it glided down the sand and into the water, far enough it was just about to push away from the sand and start floating, and I went around to the front, where Paisley had unzipped the flap and didn’t give me the chance to say anything—she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into the camper with her, tugging me so I fell inside with a grunt, the whole thing lurching as I did, the momentum pushing us away from the sand and drifting out onto the water.

“See?” she laughed. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The camper lurched and drifted, feeling like it would pitch and flip and drown us, and I fumbled around trying to balance the thing while Paisley just laid back relaxed in the center, her head and shoulders propped up against the back, looking at me with a big smile, clearly enjoying my struggle until we’d spun a full revolution and it became clear I wasn’t going to capsize the thing by leaning on the side. I relaxed, sitting up straighter, trying to look cool like I hadn’t just flopped around the place like a fish on land, and I zipped the camper shut before I punched the straw into my tea, settling in with a long, slow sigh.

“Would have been a lot easier if we’d done it the normal way, but that wouldn’t have been very Paisley of us, now, would it?”

She gave me a playful shove. “Just admit you don’t like fun, Harps. Good lord.”

“Your idea of fun is breeding lizards.”

“It was a one-off thing! Jeez. Nobody gives a girl a break.” She relaxed, looking out the small plastic strip with the view of the water—the rocky stone faces at the end of the sandbar and the outlines of Bayview’s colorful roofs past it, and then as we drifted in the other direction, the open ocean. It was a beautiful day today, but it was a weekday morning, so it was quiet right now, a small yacht some distance away and a couple strolling the beach looking like toy figures in the distance, and just the two of us in the perfect serenity of the moment.

Well, maybe Paisley was serene. My heart was pounding.

“We should—” Paisley started, at the same time that I said, “I meant—” and we both stopped, looking at each other.

“You go,” she said.

“You go.”

She lit up. “Okay, great, I totally wanted to go. We should take a picture.”

“A what?”

“Oh my god, Harps. Photography! An art form developed from the invention of the camera!”

“Yeah, I know, but—but what do you—”

“For the frame, you dork. Remember? We’re going to put in it the memory of the thing you enjoyed the best from our bucket journey. So we should be taking pictures of all of them.”

“Oh, right…” I relaxed. “A picture of what? The camper?”

“What?” She scowled. “No way you’re not getting a picture with me and you. I dressed up just for you, so you’re getting a picture of me looking like a weirdo in my goofy outfit, now deal with it.”

Something lurched in my chest, because apparently I was that simple, and all I needed was to hear Paisley say she’d dressed up just for me and I was gone. She really did look… well…

“Fine,” I mumbled. “We’ll take a picture.”

She pressed herself up against me, her cheek pressing against mine, and it almost gave me a heart attack. “You’re the best. I love you.”

The bucket journey—or whatever the hell we were calling it today—was a mistake. I needed to make sure I was out of this town sooner rather than later.