Chris looked up from his cheeseburger. “Your summer really blew. You had to live with old people, your hair got fried, you’re practically albino, and they didn’t feed you. Sucks to be you, huh?”
“And she missed cheer camp!” Ally added.
“But I’m back now,” I chimed in, twirling a finger in my necklace chain and maintaining my smile with an effort.
“We’re not letting you out of our sight for the rest of the summer,” said Hil.
“Tomorrow we’ll do a pool day. Magazines, drinks, and lots of gossip,” Ally soothed.
“Sounds perfect,” I said. She described a typical day from any other summer.
“We’ll catch you up on the choreography you missed at camp, so you’re not clueless during tryouts,” added Hil.
“You can have her tomorrow, but she’s mine tonight.” Ryan stood and offered his hand. “Ready, Mia?”
Ally gave a high-pitched squeak and smiled at Lauren. Chris groaned and rolled his eyes.
Hillary stood up too. “Wait! What? I thought we’d sleep over my house tonight.”
“Sorry. I made plans with Ryan.”
“But you haven’t seen us in a month!” Hil glared at Ryan’s hand on mine. “I can’t think of a single reason you’d choose him over us.”
I’d noticed her watching Ryan watch me and knew exactly what her emphasis referred to. “I promise I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.” My eyes pled with her to let it go.
She did, with a reluctant, “If it wasn’t August and you weren’t Summer Girl …”
“Relax, Hil. I go back to the shore tomorrow. It’s one night,” Ryan said.
Chris grinned and leaned toward Hil. “I’ll sleep over.”
Hil sneered, “You wish,” and hid her smile behind a sip of Diet Coke.
I hugged them all. “It’s so good to see you guys. I can’t wait till tomorrow.”
I followed Ryan across the restaurant, catching Gyver’s eye as I passed. He nodded once and I nodded back, fighting an urge to interrupt his lunch so I could hug him too. I’d gotten used to seeing him every day; it’d be hard to readjust to the small doses we saw of each other in normal life. I needed to remember I wasn’t usually the central person in his life, and he shouldn’t be in mine.
Ryan was holding the door open for me. “Want one?” he asked, holding up one of the chocolate mint candies from the dish by the register.
“Sure.”
Lauren always had a handful of these in her purse. “Kissing mints,” she called them.
Kissing was exactly what I needed right now. Kissing Ryan—whose fingers were warm and strong around mine when he passed me the green-and-brown mint. Whose smile was an invitation.
I smiled back.
Ryan led me directly to his bedroom door.
“Am I allowed in here?” I asked.
“My mom’s not home.” He stepped into the room. I’d avoided situations like this before—limiting Ryan to party and parking-lot kisses—but it seemed too late to turn back, so I followed.
It was a shrine to sports: a collection of his trophies on shelves beside his bed, newspaper clippings tacked above his desk, his soccer jersey draped on a chair.
I stumbled over a duffel bag. Ryan caught me and kicked it to the side. “Dirty laundry. Mom offered to do it before I head back.”
I nodded and examined the photographs on his dresser. Some of the soccer team, more of the basketball team, and a couple of the two of us from prom and parties last spring. Comparing my face in the photos to the gaunt, pale one in his mirror was painful. I put them down—facedown.
Ryan stepped behind me, kissed the back of my neck. I felt the afternoon’s tension melt, along with my resolve. “When are you coming home from the shore for good?”
“Not until right before school.” Ryan resumed his kisses. My hair had never been this short, so he’d never had access to so much of my neck before. The feel of his lips almost convinced me to leave it bobbed.
“Really? Not sooner?” My words were breathier than I expected.
“I make extra pay if I work after the college kids go back. And double for working Labor Day weekend. I need the money—I’ve saved enough for my car, but there’s insurance and stuff. Wait till you see it. It’s worth it.”
“Hmm.” I managed an almost word.
“You’ll come visit, won’t you? I don’t want to wait another month to do this again.” Ryan tipped my face back toward him, leaned over my shoulder, and covered my lips with his. I relaxed into the kiss, luxuriated in it.
I stopped relaxing when his hand began to drift down inside the collar of my shirt. Too close to my port, which hadn’t been there the last time his hand had.
“Stop.” I pulled away.
“What? Come on! We haven’t seen each other in a month. Haven’t you missed me?”
“Of course.” I was tired and a little queasy. The greasy food wasn’t settling well.
“Really?” He sat on the end of his bed.
“Ryan, you’re the one with the commitment phobia. As for this”—I pointed to my shirt—“I’ve spent the past month living with old people. Give me a little while to catch up.”