Page 14 of Tourist Trap

I remember every fucking minute I’ve been in Claire Donovan’s presence, not that I’ll be telling her that. “June puked on my shoes, and I had to throw them out. So yeah, I remember that night.”

“And you glared at me, fighting the all-consuming urge to give me a talking to, I’m sure.”

She’s not wrong; although if I’m being honest, that wasn’t the only all-consuming urge I felt that night. But that’s just another reason I absolutely should not let her stay here for the summer.

An entire season stuck under the same roof as her would be a complete disaster.

“Come on. For old times' sake? I start work tomorrow, and I don’t have time to be house hunting and making sure it’s a safe placeandunpacking and getting settled. I obviously can’t stay with June because the place is basically a shoebox.”

“You took a job here without somewhere to stay?”

She shrugs, her blonde hair bouncing as she does.

“I knew I’d figure something out eventually. And look!” She waves her hands in my direction, her smile going wide. “I did! A safe place with a friend!”

“I’m not your friend,” I say, crossing my arms on my chest and leaning in the doorway. This all feels so surreal, like some kind of stupid prank Grant would pull on me.

“Oh, stop it, yes we are! Remember when you came to my birthday in the city?”

I remember the January before last, Paul calling me last minute and accepting the invite to the lavish restaurant only to be left with the bill, the last straw in my relationship with Paul and another reason why I ignored them both the following summer.

“Or I came down the summer before last to spend the Fourth with your mom?” she added.

I remember having to hound Paul for amonthto convince him to come and him constantly telling me Claire wanted to party for the holiday. It took me threatening not to send his monthly rent payment digitally and instead hand him a check in person to convince him to come down to celebrate our mother’s birthday.

I also remember Claire coming with the most extravagant gift for Mom and being confused as fuck, because the woman didn’tseemdisappointed not to be at some rave that night.

“What about all the times we went shell hunting together? You’re my lucky charm,” she says, and that one has me hesitating. “Come on, Miles. Please?”

I don’t respond still, and her face changes again. I always found that so interesting about Claire, the way her face shifts and changes at the drop of a hat, always so fucking expressive. She can’t keep a secret to save her life, but it’s entertaining to watch her try.

“At the very least, your mom loves me.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask, confused.

Her cuteness fades, and she cocks out a hip, clearly sliding into another angle to get her way with such smoothness it almost startles me.

Trouble. So much damn trouble this woman is.

“How is she going to feel if I call and tell her I’m living on the streets when you have a nice, clean, open bed for me topayto sleep in?”

I roll my eyes at her dramatics, but something tells me she would actually do it. And if she did, a few things would be for certain: Mom would be upset Paul fucked things up with Claire, absolutely overjoyed that Claire was here for the whole summer, and she would be beyond pissed I wasn’t giving her a place to stay.

Still, the idea of an entire summer with her…

“Claire—” I start, but she must sense my resolve weakening and keeps pressing.

“I’m very quiet,” she lies, and even though I know that’s a lie, she continues speaking before I can argue. “You’ll barely even notice I’m here! Plus, I’ll be out by September tenth.”

“What are you doing after?” I ask.

“After?”

“I want to make sure I won’t be conned into letting you stay indefinitely after September. Do you have plans?”

Am I actually considering letting her live with me? I think to myself.

I think I am.

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