Trouble From the Start Read online

  “On a Saturday night?” he asked. “That’s more than being a friend.”

  “He didn’t have anything else to do.”

  He gave me a pointed look. “That guy? He could have not only found something to do, but found some chick to do it with.”

  I knew that well enough. “Really, Marc, it’s not a big deal.” Maybe Fletcher just wanted to unload about being drunk the other night. I hadn’t seen him since I’d put him to bed.

  “Maybe not to you, but it is to him.”

  When the last of the customers had left and the doors were locked, Jenny and Katie came up to me and spun me around. I felt the ties on my apron loosened, a tug on my hair as my hairclip was removed. One of them whipped away my apron.

  “What are y’all doing?” I asked as they spun me back around. They were grinning like mad.

  “Hot guy is waiting for you,” Jenny said.

  “Get out of here,” Katie said. “We’ll finish cleaning up.”

  “But it’s my job, too.”

  “Not tonight it’s not,” they both said as they shoved me toward the office where my things were stored in a locker.

  “Go,” Jenny said. “We’ll want deets tomorrow.”

  I didn’t want to disappoint them, but I didn’t know if the details would be that salacious. I had no idea why he was here. And that made me a little nervous because I didn’t know quite how to act. To anticipate being with him or to prepare for another brush-off. “Thanks, guys.”

  I clocked out and grabbed my bag from the locker. I quickly ran a brush through my hair, reapplied mascara and lipstick—which I realized was a little silly since it was dark out—but still, it made me feel more put-together.

  Dot was waiting for me at the door. “Have fun,” she said as she opened the door, let me out, and relocked it.

  I walked around the side of the building, intending to meet up with Fletcher on the deck, but he must have been watching for me through the window, because he met me halfway.

  “Want to walk along the beach before heading home?” he asked.

  Maybe he wanted to talk about something. I almost laughed. He didn’t share things. Still, I said, “Sure.”

  I pulled off my shoes, dropped them in my bag, retrieved my flip-flops. The lights from the restaurant provided enough faint light that we could see where we were going as we wandered over the dunes to the beach area. Sandpipers scurried along on spindly legs. The tide was low, leaving a lot of beach area.

  “You seem to have recovered from your drinking spree,” I said lightly.

  He groaned. “I don’t know why people get drunk.”

  “I heard you leave early Friday morning. Did you actually go to class?”

  “Had to turn in my homework.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “You’d be even more impressed if you’d met the guys with sledgehammers inside my head.”

  “I met them the morning after Scooter’s party.”

  He chuckled low. “I bet you did.”

  We continued on in silence until we reached the water’s edge.

  “So I never asked: how was your date?” I asked.

  “It wasn’t a date.”

  “The booty call then.”

  His smile flashed in the darkness. “It wasn’t a booty call either. It was just . . . her name is Raven. We went out a couple of times last year. When she called and wanted to hook up, it sounded like a good idea.”

  I slipped my foot out of my flip-flop, squiggled my toes in the wet sand. “Do you like her?”

  “She’s nice.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I’m not going to see her again, though.”

  “Thought you liked her.”

  “I said she was nice.”

  “What’s not to like about nice?”

  “She wasn’t you.”

  My heart went into a hard gallop.

  “How was your date with Marc?” he asked.

  “He wasn’t you,” I said quietly.

  Fletcher moved in, cradled my face. “I’ve missed you. That’s crazy. I’ve never missed anyone before. You’ll be leaving soon and this is going nowhere, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about you.”

  “Why weren’t you waiting for me when I got home last night?”

  “Thought if I went a little bit longer without seeing you then I’d stop missing you.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Didn’t work, huh?”

  “Don’t look so happy.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just nice to be missed. I missed you, too.”

  “So maybe we can be friends,” he said.

  “Gee, you made that sound really enticing. Where do I sign up?”

  “Right here.” Then he kissed me.

  The kiss was slow and hot, had the potential to go on into tomorrow. But I had the nagging thought that a few days earlier he’d kissed someone else. So had I—not so much to make him jealous but to make him realize other guys would kiss me. But Fletcher kissed girls because he liked to. I deserved loyalty. I was worth being considered special.

  Breaking off from his lips, I backed away. While there wasn’t a lot of light, I could tell that he was confused.

  “You can’t tell me a few days ago that you’re going to be seeing other girls, then kiss me tonight and think everything is going to be okay. If you want to be friends, we’ll be friends, but I don’t kiss my friends.”

  “I kiss my friends,” he said impatiently.

  “Not if you’re kissing me,” I said. “I like you, Fletcher. I like you a lot. I want to explore these feelings, see where they take us, but you want easy, and I’m not. I want a boyfriend. I want a guy who isn’t trying to get together with other girls.”

  “You’re talking about a commitment.”

  “It doesn’t have to be forever. But yes, if you want to be more than friends then I need to know I’m the only one you’re spending time with. Otherwise, we can just be friends. Late-night walks and talks. No kissing, no snuggling, no skinny-dipping.”

  “Like you’d go skinny-dipping.”

  “You’re right. I probably wouldn’t. But I’m not just someone to kiss when you’re in the mood for a kiss.”

  He looked disgruntled and frustrated, which made two of us. I wanted more with him, but I needed for him to want more with me, too. More than he’d ever had with any other girl.

  “I don’t know how to be a boyfriend,” he finally stated flatly.

  “I’ve never been a girlfriend, so it would be new to me, too. Maybe we could figure out how to be a couple together. But I can’t pretend our kisses don’t mean something. Every time we kiss, I fall just a little bit more.”

  “You’re so open about it.”

  “I’m not afraid of falling. I am afraid of being a fool, of getting hurt. You said you didn’t want to hurt me. Then don’t kiss me anymore unless you’re willing not to kiss anyone else.”

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, Fletcher stared out at the water.

  “You don’t have to decide tonight,” I told him. “Just know that I’m a no-kiss zone as long as you’re seeing other girls.”

  He faced me. “I guess that means no kiss for the road.”

  “No kiss for the road. But I will hold your hand if you want to walk me to the car.”

  He wrapped his hand around mine and we headed back toward the dunes. It wasn’t a lot, but I couldn’t help thinking that maybe it was a start.

  The next afternoon, after lunch, I was basking in a lounge chair by the pool. Although my eyes were closed, I was aware of a shadow crossing over my face, someone blocking out the sun. I expected to find Fletcher there. Instead, it was my dad.

  “Your mother and I need to have a talk with you and Fletcher.”

  My dad wasn’t the sort who did a lot of joking around, but he sounded way too serious. As I got up and followed him into the house, several possibilities went through my head. That the kiss-cam had been posted to the Internet, gone viral,