Nantucket Blue

Thirty-six





WHEN I HEARD THE WHISTLE across the street, I knew it was meant for me. Since I’d stepped out of the inn, I’d felt eyes on me. Liz had worked wonders with my hair, making it appear thicker and bouncier than ever before, and she’d applied little fake eyelashes one by one with a pair of tweezers to “open up” my eyes. At first I told her there was no way I was going to let her put fake eyelashes on me, but she assured me they’d look great. She was right.

But it was the dress that was turning heads. This dress was a beautiful-girl costume. Another whistle. I thought maybe it was Zack, but when I turned my head, it was Jay. He was across the street, flanked by Fitzy and Oliver. They had fishing poles over their shoulders. Jay was holding a tackle box, and Fitzy was barefoot, smoking a cigar.

“C.T.,” Jay said.

“Hi,” I said, and waved.

They watched me cross the street. Fitzy narrowed his eyes and puffed on his cigar. Before I’d arrived, I had this idea that Nantucket was so small that it would be impossible not to run into the people you knew. But it wasn’t like that. I hadn’t seen these guys since that night at the party in ’Sconset. A few times, I’d actually tried to will Jay to appear so I could explain to him, in my own words, how sorry I was about what I said about his brother. Maybe there’d been a delayed reaction to my prayers, because there he was, looking happy to see me. I wondered for a second if I should be nervous, if this was a trick, if Jay was going to make me think everything was cool and then tell me off, but I didn’t think so. He was drinking me in like a cold glass of lemonade.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Fitzy said.

“Yes, we have,” I said.

“I think I’d remember,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Cricket,” I said. I watched him listen. This was the power of looking good. It made boys pay attention. It popped their little independence bubble.

“I’m Andrew Fitzpatrick,” he said, and planted a cool kiss on my hand.

“Cricket Thompson”—Jay glared at him—“is a friend of mine from Providence.” A friend? I met his gaze. Jay’s bright blue eyes shone against his tanned caramel skin. There was no doubt about it: Jay was probably one of the best-looking guys in the world, and summer had given him a glowing confidence. He’s going to be important someday, I thought.

“Where are you off to looking so beautiful?” he asked.

“Dinner,” I said, feeling myself flush.

“What I wouldn’t do to be dinner,” Fitzy said, shaking his head and biting his cigar.

“You sound like someone’s gross uncle,” Oliver said, laughing.

“How about you guys go ahead,” Jay said, nodding his head at Fitzy and Oliver. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“How come you get a private audience with this gorgeous woman?” Fitzy asked him.

“Because she’s my friend,” Jay said. There was that word again. Friend.

“We’ll just pop into the pharmacy for a hot dog,” Oliver said, slapping Fitzy on the back. “Would you like a dog, Jay?”

“I could eat a dog,” said Jay. Fitzy snuffed his cigar, and the two of them went inside the pharmacy.

“Listen,” I said, “I need to apologize. I’m so sorry for what I said. It was horrible and judgmental and I’m just so sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” he said.

“Really?” This seemed too easy.

“Jules told me she’d taken the comment out of context.”

“She did? Really?” He nodded. “Oh my god, that’s great.” I breathed in deeply. Air filled a spot in my lungs that had been puckering since the fight. Jules had made things right. She had forgiven me.

“She also showed me this.” Jay pulled out of his pocket the list I’d made the morning after the party at Nora’s, my top five reasons for liking Jay Logan.

There was tape along the edges, and I could tell that Jules had saved it in our notebook and removed it to give to Jay. “I especially liked number five,” he said, and I reread it. Jay always sticks up for his brother so I know he’s a good guy with a real heart. “I guess I also like number one.” He has big, dreamy eyes and the best boy butt I’ve ever seen.

“I’m so embarrassed,” I said.

“Don’t be,” he said. “It’s nice.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, I’m just so glad this is cleared up.…” I trailed off. He was gazing at me the way I’d wanted him to since the eighth grade. His smile was so bright and winning, I was in a spotlight. The people passing by all seemed to notice us. They were looking at us the way I’d looked at the glossy, dressed-up Nantucketers when I’d stepped off the ferry. My throat was dry.

“Me too. ’Cause I was hoping you’d be my girl next year.” His girl? So old-fashioned. And yet…like something Jay-Z might say to Beyoncé. It was the invitation I’d been waiting for for three years. Was he asking me out? He was, right? Being Jay Logan’s girlfriend would be like winning a prize. I’d be untouchable. Golden. Chosen for a better life. It would be like getting into Princeton, early admission, with a full ride for specialness. I smiled.

“Is that a yes?” Jay asked, and stepped closer to me.

He was standing so close, glimmering like some kind of American hero in his faded Whale’s Tale beer T-shirt. We would be the couple of the year. I drank in the possibility. There had been times when I’d imagined this moment at lacrosse practice, and it always made me run faster.

“I’ve thought about that night at Nora’s,” he said. “I really wanted to kiss you.”

“Me too,” I said. It was true. I’d obsessed about that moment at the beginning of the summer. But not recently. Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t fantasized about kissing him, or played the Jay playlist for weeks. It struck me that I didn’t want to go any further with him than this. Right here. This was enough. This was the fantasy. Maybe this whole time, the possibility of Jay was all I’d wanted. But before I could tease this thought apart from all the others that were going through my mind, he placed a gentle hand on my back, leaned in, and pressed his lips to mine. Jay Logan was actually kissing me!

I pressed back. I did. I kissed him back because I had to know if it was the idea of Jay or Jay himself that I liked so much. I tingled with a feeling that I was doing something wrong, which was confusing because tingling is tingling.

“Nice move, Logan,” said Fitzy. “Way to break your buddy’s heart.” We pulled apart. There were Fitzy and Oliver, hands full of hot dogs. The church bells chimed eight o’clock.

“I’m having a party on Friday,” Fitzy said. “Eighty-two Cliff Road. Bring your sister.”

“I don’t have a sister,” I said.

“Damn,” he said.

“I have to go,” I said.

I spotted Zack as soon as I pushed open the bright red door of Gigi’s. He was sitting at a table by a window with a bouquet of wildflowers and a bottle of champagne, looking at his watch. He was wearing a button-down shirt and his Nantucket Reds.

“Hi,” I said. He looked at me and stood up. He was only six feet away, but I couldn’t get to him fast enough. Any confusion I’d experienced on the walk over vanished like a drop of water in direct sunlight. He put his arms around me and I kissed him. And when I did: phosphorescence.

“I’m in love with you, Zack Clayton,” I said.

“I’m in love with you, too,” he said, and kissed me again. “I’m in love with my secret lover.”