Page 59 of The Summers of Us

“Still, I don’t want to mess up our friendship. I have to take things slow and read the signs.”

“Thisis a sign.” I pinched the sleeve of his shirt off his shoulder. “You’re wearing his shirt. Like did he dress you and tuck you into his bed or something?”

Holden’s face turned pink. “No. He sat with me in the bathroom until I was done puking, then set clothes out for me while I was showering. And he only put me in his bed so he’d know if I threw up again. He was just being a good friend.”

Could he really be that clueless? He was speaking like it didn’t paint an obvious picture of thesomethingbetween them.

“Those aresigns,” I said. “Where is he now?”

“He went to get more bait.”

“Right. Totally something I do in the early morning for myfriend.”

“Speaking of, you should go get Everett some bait,” he said facetiously. “Or, like, a new pair of running shoes or something.”

I nudged him with my elbow. “I hate you.”

“I hate you.” It crooned out of his mouth like his favorite song—one he hadn’t heard in a long time but he’d never forget the words to.

Age 15, August 2

Three days had passed since Kelsie’s party.

After I left Holden at the dock, I brought Blair and Haven donuts. I tried to talk to Haven about Chance, but she only thanked me and assured me she was happy with him, just like our first day at the beach.

She’d been with him the past three days straight.

Not that I knew for sure, since I hadn’t seen anyone since the party. Blair finally put her mom pants on and grounded me for going to a house party, though she said she was proud of me for keeping Haven safe and told me she was always a call away if I needed her. This implied she expected there to be a next time, but I left it at that. A girl could only take so many lectures about drunk driving and teen pregnancy before it was more fun to lie in bed, toy with ideas in my journal, and count the popcorn kernels in the ceiling.

She let me use my down time behind the wheel of her car. Getting my driving hours was easier on the sleepy roads of Piper Island. I drove us on errands, ten miles under the speed limit, almost hitting the stop signs from accelerating too fast. The whole time, she made me listen to adult contemporary radio. She rolled the window down every time we passed innocent bystanders, shouting, “Stay off the road, folks, my niece is behind the wheel!” She sang along to said adult contemporary radio, pitchy and shrill andso embarrassing.

I took her to the post office for stamps, the tax office for God knows what, the fish shop for fresh crab, the grocery store, the same circle of parking lot until I was dizzy.

Point made, Blair.

On the last night of my prison sentence, I was on the couch watching Blair’s favorite terrible reality show, stuffed from crab cakes I’d made with Blair. I didn’t tell her that I didn’t mind that part of the punishment. It was nice to cook something with such intention, to sing along to Adele who maybe didn’t make theworstmusic.

I was almost asleep on the couch when I heard a knock at the door.

Blair and I exchanged a confused look until my phone lit up:It’s me, can you let me in?

I opened the door so quickly there was a gust of air in its wake.

Haven stood below the yellow porch light. Mascara ran down her cheeks. Her body hid away in one of Holden’s Piper Island Fishing Pier hoodies. Her ponytail was clearly disheveled by her pillows.

“What’s wrong?” I pulled her away from the moths buzzing around and into the house.

Her brown eyes looked at me like they’d never experienced anything more heartbreaking. “Chance.”

It was all she managed before the dam broke and she started crying. It was a loud, slobbery mess that I didn’t know how to fix, so I pulled her into a hug to keep her from shattering.

“I’m sorry,” I said instead of everything else running through my head.

I told you this would happen.

This is why you shouldn’t date bad boys.

I knew he was bad news.

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