“Mmm. You look better in my shirt than I do.” Ryan joined me on the pillows.
“I like you better shirtless, so that works.” I felt nervous now, wanting to joke and delay. Gyver’s lack of reaction shocked me. He’d flipped at the hospital over something innocent, but us—clearly mid-something—hadn’t made him blink. It made no sense. Unless he didn’t care anymore. I bit my lip and held my breath, willing myself to ignore the ache in my chest.
Ryan’s hand stilled on my stomach and his lips left my neck. “You’re on another planet.”
“Sorry.” I crinkled my nose and sat up. Shaking my head to clear the maybes and focus on my reality—a guy I’d initially given so little credit and who exceeded my expectations daily. A guy who loved me.
Ryan groaned. “You know, this really doesn’t make me like Gyver more.”
I kissed him softly. “It’s my fault—and he did offer lasagna. just keep picturing what would’ve happened if his mom had come instead …”
“The police chief? Okay, yeah, the moment’s pretty ruined for me too.”
“Sorry. Soon?”
“Please.” He pulled me into his arms and lay down. I nestled against him, inhaled his sunshine scent; relaxed into his fingertips rubbing my back and his warm skin against my cheek.
I woke to an empty pillow beside me and my parents’ voices in the hall.
“Kitten, are you asleep?” Mom leaned in my room and asked.
“Yes,” I mumbled.
“Did you eat, take your meds, and do your homework?”
“Yes,” I lied.
“Sweet dreams.” She kissed my cheek and felt my forehead.
But when she shut the door, I got out of bed. My restlessness had returned and sleep had fled. I didn’t have enough time and I couldn’t waste any of it.
“I don’t want to go to school today,” I told Ryan as I climbed in his car the next morning.
Ryan frowned. “Because of the girls? It’s been a week; maybe they’ve calmed down. Apologize. Talk to—”
“No.” I didn’t want to discuss it: Hil was hostile; Ally was teary-eyed polite; Lauren avoided me with obvious discomfort. At least Chris had more or less gotten over it. “Not because of them. I want you to take me to the shore, since I never made it this summer.” I reached over and turned his keys in the ignition.
“Really? You want to skip?” He gave me a disbelieving half grin. I traced his left dimple, making him smile wider and reveal its twin.
“Yes, really! Can we?” Making up for my stolen summer with a trip to the shore would be the first thing I could cross off my before list.
“Let’s do it.”
Ryan talked the whole two-hour drive. Anecdotes about the people he’d worked with, the places they’d hung out at night—clubs where the bouncers didn’t check IDs; beach houses of the week-long renters; the homes of year-rounders who were equal parts distrustful of and intrigued by the summer workers.
“Chris always threw the best parties. His mom was gone half the time, and his house is insane. If I’d known we were skipping today, I would’ve gotten him to give me the key.”
“It’s okay, we’ll only be there a few hours.”
Ryan ticked off the things he needed to show me on his fingers. “We’ve got to go to Spud McGee’s. They make these french fries—but it’s a whole potato that they cut into a long spiral, and then they serve it on a stick. And Hot Diggity—stupid name, I know, but they’ve got the best hot dogs. I practically lived on them this summer. And there’s a smoothie place, where, if the right person’s behind the counter, they’ll pour some vodka in your cup as they take it off the blender. We’ll skip the coaster, the thing rattles like a mofo, but maybe the Ferris wheel and definitely a funnel cake.”
“You ate like that all summer?” I laughed and tugged the hem of his shirt free from his seat belt so I could slip my fingers under and onto his hard abs. “Where do you put it?”
He grinned and came to a stop at a traffic light, leaning over to press his lips to the shoulder of my sweatshirt. Well, it was one of his sweatshirts, but I was wearing it. “I can’t wait to show you everything. I really wished you were here this summer.”
And for the last few streets of the beachside town, I thought this was a good idea, one of the best I’d had in a while. After a week of causing nothing but fights, I was making someone happy. Making Ryan happy—hopefully as happy as he made me.
The center of town had some traffic, but not much. The farther we got from the main street, and the closer to the boardwalk and sand, the more the cars dwindled. Ryan pulled into a parking lot with a ten-dollar bill in his hand, but the attendant’s booth stood empty. He idled there, his window half-lowered.
“Park anyway,” I told him. “We can leave the money under a wiper blade in case anyone comes—they’re not going to tow you.”
I should’ve told him to turn around. There was unease growing in my stomach. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe it was a horrible one.