“Graphic design.”
I look at her strangely.
“Ryan, I have spent the entire summer watching you doodle on napkins and trace in the sand. I may not be an artist, but I do know talent when I see it.”
“You think I’m talented?”
“Very.”
“I wouldn’t know the first thing about applying to college,” I confess.
“I can help you if you want.”
I consider her offer. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course. You don’t have to make any snap decisions tonight.”
It’s definitely something to think about.
Suddenly a strong gust of wind sends all her papers soaring through the air. We both scurry to catch them before they fly away. After a few seconds of flurrying commotion, we get them all.
“That would have sucked,” Alana expresses as she piles the papers into a neat stack and then heads into the cabana. I just stand there, not sure if I should follow or not. It must be close to eight thirty. The sun has started to set and is throwing multiple hues of pink all over the sky.
Alana pokes her head out the narrow doorway. “What are you, a vampire? Do I have to invite you in?”
I shoot her—that mouth is going to get you in so much trouble—look.
I glance over my shoulder. “I sort of wanted to get a swim in.” Considering I’ve been sweating like a pig all day.
“Now? It’s getting dark.”
“I need to clean up.” Why I didn’t plan this out better, I’ll never know. That’s what I get for thinking solely with the head in my pants.
“So, we’ll take a shower.”
“We’ll?”
“Yes, I’m all sandy and salty from being on the beach all day.”
“I sort of like you sandy and salty,” I admit.
Alana rolls her eyes, then grabs my hand and yanks me inside. The cabana isn’t very big, but it isn’t that small either. I would describe it as cozy. It’s decorated in all oranges and creams, has a flat screen TV, and even a stall shower. Fancy schmancy.
There’s an orange and cream striped La-Z-Boy in one corner near the small fridge and wet bar, and what looks like an oversized futon directly across with lots of small, matching throw pillows. Definitely cozy.
But the smell. It smells like...
“What is that?” I inhale.
“The sweet scent?”
“Yeah.”
“Stargazer lilies.” Alana nods to a bright pinkish-orange bouquet of flowers near one of the tiny windows. “They were my mom’s favorite. We always have a fresh spray here.”
She uses that melancholy tone, the one she always uses whenever she talks about her mother. It breaks my heart knowing she lost someone she loved so young.
I turn to her, taking her face in my hands. “I’m sorry she’s gone.”