“Hey, I noticed that he always seems to use a napkin to open his truck door,” I mention as we start walking toward the picnic tables together. “Do you know what that's about?”
“Oh.” Tahnee starts chuckling to herself. “His handle tends to get covered in spit every time he's around here. I guess he's more prepared for it now.”
Spit? Every time? That's horrible.
She starts giggling again, but all I can think is how bad I feel for the guy. And that's stupid, isn't it? Feeling bad for him? I mean, he did something horrible, and now he has to pay for it. Right?
Only . . . he did pay for it already, didn't he? He spent time in frickin' prison, and now he has no friends here as far as I can tell. Will he be punished forever?
He hasn't proven to be a repeat offender.
Yet.I remind myself.
I keep wondering if I would feel even half as bad as I do if he were to be an older, sleazy looking guy, rather than the handsome young guy with a nice body and the beautiful eyes. Truthfully, I know the answer is probably no. I most likely wouldn't feel bad.
I doubt I'd be one of those people spitting on his door handle, but I'd definitely be making sure to avoid him at all costs.
And that's opposite to what I find me kind of wanting to do with Jacob now. And that is, weirdly enough, maybe becoming his friend. It feels wrong and dirty, and it's against what anyone else would probably feel or want to do. But I can't help it.
I drift back into the present and realize that I've missed most of what Tahnee has been saying, but from what she's talking about now it appears to have just be about the drinks from the juice stand.
I make more of an effort to pay attention to her since I do actually want to keep our friendship. I don't ask her anything more about Jacob.
Instead, she tells me about growing up in a nearby town, how she moved here during her senior year, and how hard it was for her at first.
Even though my initial thoughts were to keep quiet about my family, I find that I trust Tahnee and actually want to talk to her about them. So I do. I tell her my story about growing up with my parents and why I'm here now.
“So, you're kind of famous? Does that mean I have to treat you differently?” She wrinkles her nose. “'Cause I don't really want to.”
I can't help but laugh at her candidness. She's such a breath of fresh air, and I love it.
“Please don't treat me differently,” I reply. “Besides, it's my parents who are, not me. And I wouldn't even call themfamous-famous. Just well-known.”
We grab our juices and then sit at the table that she was sitting on earlier.
“Well, I guess that explains how you were able to afford the house you're in.” Tahnee slurps at her juice loudly and then swallows. “It may be small, but that bitch is right on the beach.”
I smile, thinking about my cute little home. “Yep.”
She tilts her head to the side in a thoughtful way. “But why are you working at Peaches?”
With a shrug, I place my drink down next to me. “I didn't want to sit on my ass all day. And I figured it was a good place to meet people.” I absentmindedly pick at the chipped paint on the table. “Plus, Jolene is super nice.”
“Oh, Jolene is a hoot. Especially after she gets a drink or two in her.”
I let out an amused sound and take in that extra piece of information, storing it with all of the other things I've learned about her so far. “I'll have to remember that.”
“But seriously,” Tahnee adds. “If you want to meet people, you should come work with me at The Big Five. No better place to meet people than at a bar.”
“Nah. I'm good, thanks.” I take another sip of my drink. “What does the name stand for anyway?”
“Fuck if I know. I've tried figuring it out, but no one there knows either. Not even the owner. Guess it already had the name when he bought it.” She smirks shaking her head. “Anyway, you're liking it here so far?”
“I am,” I say with a contented sigh.
We spend the afternoon chatting and by the time I get home, the sun is just starting its descent. I make myself some easy pasta for dinner and take it outside onto the deck to eat with some wine and watch the steady flow of waves coming in on a rhythm only the ocean knows.
Eventually, my eyes drift down the beach to the lonely shack that stands by itself. It looks as if he might be having a bonfire or something on the beach beside his place this evening. I swallow down a large mouthful of wine and hum while leaning my head back on the chair.