We met in high school, back when Brendan spent his summers in Sully’s Beach with his family. The Marcos were one of those wealthy families with a summer house on the beach—a version of life that felt like fantasy to me.
With his summer tan, backwards cap, and warm, brown eyes, I hadn’t stood a chance. Falling for him had felt inevitable, especially given how much time we spent together.
My brother had warned me to stay away, but I hadn’t cared about being reckless. I’d wanted to spend as much time as possible with him before the season ended.
Neither of us had planned what happened later that night. He’d set up a projector and screen on the beach—his idea, which I should have recognized as significant, because Brendan didn’t do things like that for just anyone. We watchedThe Princess Bridewith a bonfire going behind us, and the whole night felt perfect. Brendan was supposed to take his sister home afterwards, but instead, he’d sent her ahead without him. He’d just graduated, and we both knew everything was about to change.
It had started innocently enough—wading into the water to our knees, fully clothed, kicking at the waves. I’d stolen his baseball cap and put it on, and that’s when I caught it: the spark in his eyes. He liked seeing me in his things.
When he noticed me shivering, he’d offered his sweatshirt. It had swallowed me whole, covering my hands, hanging to my thighs, but smelled like fresh laundry and whatever soap he used, and I never wanted to take it off.
Then “Cruel Summer”played on his phone,and without thinking, I took his hands and started to dance, even though he hated dancing. To my surprise, he didn’t push me away; instead, his arms looped around my waist while the waves lapped against our ankles and our wet clothes clung to our skin.
The beach faded around us, all the world narrowing to just him and me, swaying to music with the ocean at our feet. It had felt right, his warmth against mine, his eyes tracing my face.
I’d been so caught up in him that I’d stumbled on his foot. His hands had caught me instantly, pulling me closer to keep me from falling. And suddenly we were inches apart, our bodies pressed together, and something snapped between us.
The next thing I knew, we were both kissing, our mouths crashing together, like someone had uncorked a bottle that had been shaken too long.
Our kiss had been urgent and awkward, the way young love often is—all teeth and bumping noses, hands grasping at damp skin, the taste of salt water on his lips. We’d both known time was running out. He’d be leaving in a month. School would start again. This moment would be all I’d have of him.
But then our song had been interrupted by a phone call. And what followed turned our first kiss into a nightmare.
His sister had been in an accident on her way home. Brendan ran to meet his family at the hospital, and I’d followed, but stayed in the lobby. After hours of waiting, his uncle told me to go home, that Brendan didn’t need me there and that this was for family only.
So I’d left, and waited for some news from him. A text. A phone call. Anything.
But all I got was silence.
I understood that his sister’s accident devastated his family—but not hearing back from him devastated me.
And then he left for the Marines without a word, and I’ve never understood why.
So that’s why saying yes to this feels like handing him the opportunity to hurt me again. I know what happens when I let myself believe there’s something there. I read into things too easily, and then I find out the other person was never even into me.
“I don’t know, Gabriella.” I slice through another plump strawberry. “What if I’m terrible at charming rich people? What if I spill something on Rafael Marco at the wedding? What if?—”
“What if you stop finding excuses and just say yes to the whole thing?” She leans on her elbow, giving me heryou’re being ridiculouslook. “I already asked the girls over there if they’d help cover your shifts. They all said yes.”
I glance toward the table of WAGs, who are all smiling at me like they know something I don’t. Considering this town’s gossip network, they probably do know something I don’t.
“What exactly did you tell them?” I ask through a frozen grin, then drop my voice. “I haven’t even told my family about our…situation.” I whisper the last word.
“I told them you’re dating.”
I stop mid-slice. “But did you tell them the truth? That we’re not really…”
“DATING?” she says at a volume that could probably be heard all over the cafe.
“Shh!” I practically dive across the counter to shush her. “You cannot say that word so loud!”
She rolls her eyes. “You might think it’s only one date, but pretty soon everyone in town will be talking about you and Coach Marco. Welcome to small-town celebrity status.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I mutter. “Which is why I’m planning on telling as few people as possible.”
I grab a chocolate brownie from the bakery case and slide it onto a red plate for my friend Janie Bennett. The petite blonde is dating Crushers defenseman Rourke Riley—a whirlwind romance that developed, thanks to a Christmas pageant he was forced to volunteer for. Now they’re completely obsessed with each other, which gives me hope that it could happen to me someday.
The thing is, I have spectacularly bad luck with men. Take Jaxon, the hockey player I went to the team Christmas party with. I thought we’d had a perfectly nice time, but apparently I was wrong because he never contacted me again. It hadn’t helped that Brendan spent the entire night glaring at him like a jealous boyfriend with atouch her and diecomplex.